Casualties
by Icey the Fox
Summary: Why did only Marche, Ritz, Mewt and Doned remember the real world? What if, actually, another group of young people also remembered? What if they took their sides in the conflict, picked their allies, and clashed with friends? This.
1. Prelude

The rain fell, a constant sheet of water on the bleak, deserted city. Nobody had come here for several dozen years, and the steady streaks of lightning flashing about showed all of the abandoned buildings, and, more remarkably, the two figures standing on top of a small two-story house. Light reflected from their weapons as they circled each other, blood flowing from each of them in dozens of little rivulets.

"It's for Jacqueline, Isaac. It's all for Jacqueline!"

Isaac panted, shaking his head to get the rainwater out of his eyes. He was done. He and his opponent both knew it. There was no escape for him now. The next attack would be his last stand.

The figure lunged forward, weapon leading.

Isaac jumped out of the way, grabbing his opponent's arm as he came forward. Using it as a pivot, Isaac turned, attempting to drive his elbow into the other's face.

"It won't work, Isaac!"

The figure's other hand grabbed his elbow, forcing it down so that the two of them were locked in an embrace, staring up at each other as they held each other's weapons at bay. The figure grinned.

"Don't do this!" Isaac stammered, his fear finally beginning to show. "This isn't you! You would never do something like this!"

"You're so naive, Isaac." The figure leaned in close, so that Isaac could feel the hot breath on his face. "I've always had the potential to do this. It's always been waiting, somewhere beneath the surface. You just provided the means."

"No..." Isaac began, but was cut short as his opponent's forehead flew forward, snapping into his own face. Isaac dropped his weapon, and his enemy threw him off the edge of the building.

He hit the earth a few dozen feet below painfully hard, and felt several of his bones break. With a great force of will, Isaac managed to turn himself enough to look away from the shadow jumping down from the roof of the house. He missed the sight of that weapon, flashing blindingly as lightning tore across the sky. Instead, he looked up at the clouds, the rain, the sky. Soon he would be up there, he hoped. Soon he would have his peace.

This was the end.


	2. Science Fairs and Track Meets

Isaac stepped out of his house into the cool light of a winter's morning. He took a deep breath of fresh air to wake himself up a bit, then rapped a scarf securely about his face and plopped his trademark fedora on his head. With that done, he closed the door, and started his walk to St. Ivalice High School. It wasn't a long walk to the school, though to be fair, in a town as small as St. Ivalice, not much was a long walk away.

There was a slight spring to Isaac's step that day, what with that day being the Regional Science Fair. Normally, Isaac would've hated anything to do with science. But then again, he didn't usually get to build whatever he wanted in science class. For example, if in a science class Isaac had suggested that they experiment with high-powered pneumatic projectile launchers, he would have been sent to see the school psychiatrist. When he asked if he could enter the fair with that idea, the organizers and his science teacher had told him that it was a marvellously original idea.

Thus, Isaac was now walking to school with, pretty much, a low powered home-made (and home-tested) handgun in his side-slung bag. Plus, not only was it a fun project, it was getting him extra credit in class. What more could he ask for?

He turned the final corner to his school just as a large van pulled up in front of the building. The door slid open, and out popped an average looking girl wearing a t-shirt and slightly beaten up jeans. She turnedback to the van, and withdrew a large something wrapped in a black garbage bag.

Isaac jogged to meet her as the van pulled away. "Hey, Eileen."

"How are you, Isaac?" she asked, shivering as they approached the doors to the school.

"I can't complain. I see you've built your project. Might I venture a guess as to what it is?"

"Nope."

"Why not?"

"Because you know that I'm a horrible liar, so if you guessed correct, I'd have to tell you. I want this to be a complete secret until we get to the fair."

"Well, suit yourself. So long as it isn't 'secret' for the same reason as that small batch of liquid nitrogen you brewed up last year."

"Yeah, you know I'm surprised that they let me back in the fair after what happened to the gym last year. Really, it was almost— uhf!"

The reason that Eileen said 'uhf' was because of the fact that the walkway to the front doors was made of concrete, which could be rather hard when one was pushed down onto it. Isaac repeated her exclamation with oneof his own a moment later, adding a few colourful words to the mix as he too was pushed to the ground. Both looked up to see Thomas, along with three of his cronies, standing before them. In his hands, he held the package that Eileen had been holding.

"Thanks, 'leen," he said, gesturing with his head towards the package. "This oughta get me first prize today."

Eileen was about to reply, but Isaac beat her to it. "Oh, very mature, Thom. You've stolen her project so that you can win at the Science Fair. What other dastardly plans have you cooked up, huh? Are you going to steal our lunch money next? Watch out, Eileen, he might try to give you coodies while he's at it."

"Big words coming from a small fry," Thom said, pushing down Isaac with his foot as he tried getting up. It was one of his favourite things to say to Isaac. Isaac was one of the few in the school who was shorter than Thom's diminutive five foot figure, and Thom used that over him whenever he could.

"Just shut up and give me back my project!"

"Not very kind, that," Thom said, shaking his head in mock remorse. "I believe we should teach her some manners, eh boys?"

The other three began approaching her with big, stupid grins on their faces. In an instant, Isaac had ripped his bag open and reached inside of it. Without hesitation, he turned on Thom and said, his voice like steel, "Don't dream of it."

Silence reigned for a moment as everyone stared at the home made gun in Isaac's hands. Then, much to the surprise of all, Thom laughed.

"Isaac, Isaac, Isaac. You wouldn't kill me. You can't."

"Do you want to test that theory?" Isaac asked. His face showed no emotion. However, there was one thing that everyone in the school knew; Isaac was a pacifist at heart, who couldn't abide bringing death to anything or anyone.

"Go on, boys."

"Is there a problem here?"

Everyone turned to see where the voice had come from. Standing behind Thom was a tall and well-built boy, the muscular shape of his arms apparent even under the thick jacket he wore. His black hair was cropped short on his head, and his grey eyes bore into Thom like a blade.

"Actually, there is a problem here," Thom said, turning to face Isaac again. "Your friend here has drawn an illegal weapon on me."

"Is that so?" the boy asked. "And I'm sure that knife you keep in your locker for holding kids up withis perfectly legal."

Silence. Then Thom nodded off to the left, and he and his goons walked off.

"And give the lady back her project before you leave."

Thom turned to face them with pure hatred in his eyes. "Whatever." He threw the bag at the concrete at Eileen's feet, and ran off.

The boy approached them, and helped Eileen off the ground. "You guys should try to keep some better company."

"Thanks for the help, Maxwell," Eileen said as she dusted herself off. Then she rounded on Isaac while he stood up. "And what the _hell_ were _you_ thinking?"

"What do you mean? I kind of stopped them from beating the crap out of you!" Isaac defended while he slapped the snow off of his fedora.

"That was totally illegal! And besides, what if your finger had slipped?"

"Then he would've had a nice big bruise on his forehead." Isaac pointed the gun at his foot and pulled the trigger. There was a hollow sort of _ka-chink _noise, and then a metal pellet bounced off of his foot. "Do you think I actually would've made a killing weapon for the science fair?"

Eileen looked at him for a moment. "Nice bluff."

"I know."

With Maxwell in company, they made their way into the school. Once inside, they made their way to their lockers, which were all in the same hallway thanks to a good amount of trading and bribing on their parts. Once there, they met the last two members of their little circle of friends: Ben and Jacqueline. They were, per usual, necking.

"Cut it out before you swallow each other's heads," Max ordered, sounding annoyed. "And while you're at it, stop blocking the way to my locker."

They broke off the kiss and stepped out of Max's way. "So, how're you all doing?" Ben asked, pushing his hair back from his eyes.

"Not bad. I beat Final Fantasy Two again last night, Isaac just held Thom up with a gun, I saved the two of them from getting their asses kicked, and Eileen had her project thrown at the ground."

"And it didn't explode?" Jacqueline asked, cranking in the password for her own locker.

"Not this year," Eileen said, not at all offended.

"Speaking of which, did your project break after that?" Isaac asked as he pulled books from his locker, trying not to allow the three months' worth of clutter to fall out onto him.

"Nope."

"How do you know? You haven't even looked in the bag yet!" Ben exclaimed, pulling his long, light brown hair back into its customary ponytail.

"Believe me, it didn't break."

"But how can you be—"

"Trust me, it didn't break," Eileen informed them, her voice cool.

"'Righty then," Jacqueline said, flashing one of her beautiful smilesas she got out her school jersey. "Well, Max 'n' I should get going to the rendezvous for the track and field meet."

"That was today?" Max asked, looking shocked.

"Yeah, and you'd better not get a cramp 'cause you ate too much this morning or something stupid like that. Without you our male team's pathetic, and then we females 'ave to make up for it."

"Alright, alright," Max said, putting his hands up to halt her berating. "Ben, I don't know how you handle this girl. Let's meet tonight to talk about my new and improved FF2 party and to celebrate Eileen's victory!"

"Eh!" Isaac protested, watching the two of them leave. "I might win!"

"Um, have you forgotten who you are, Isaac?" Ben asked, his bright blue eyes making his questioning look seem all the funnier.

"I have to admit, he does have a chance of winning," Eileen said nonchalantly.

"I do?"

"Yeah, I mean, with a decent write-up that would make a—"

"Dammit!"

"What?" Ben asked, turning back to him.

"I knew I forgot something!" Isaac yelled, then began foraging in his locker for a pen and some paper.

Ben and Eileen watched him for a while, then turned away after a large book fell on his head.

"Well, good luck, though it's not like you need it."

"Thanks," Eileen said. "Aren't you participating in the fair?"

"Nah," Ben shook his head ruefully. "There's been too much to do at the animal shelter lately for me to get all of my _normal_ homework done."

"Well, see you tonight, then."

"Yeah, I guess I—"

He stopped as Isaac tossed another fallen book over his shoulder, saying loudly, "What? I'm not even taking Gravitational Physics!"

"Do we have a Gravitational Physics class in our school, Eileen?" Ben asked.

"I don't believe we do."

They watched Isaac a few more seconds, before Ben turned away, muttering, "My money stays on Eileen."

Smirking, Eileen called back to Isaac, "Here, you can borrow my papers, let's just go!"

* * *

The time was nine fifty-six. The five friends were walking down a snow-covered sidewalk, laughing and talking about Maxwell's new regional record for high jump, pole vault and long jump (he liked jumping), Jacqueline's gold medals in the two- and four-hundred meter, and Eileen's amazing first place creation: a new metal alloy which none of the judges could break, even when they suspended it between two tables and piled six male teachers on it. As they said one last farewell to each other, they parted ways and started walking back to their homes.

Isaac's was in the north-western part of town, relatively close to the town's official boundaries, which hadn't been changed despite the little town's growth. He could feel the cold through his thick jacket, and it made him feel alive, just walking along, alone with the stars and the cool wind.

At that moment, the clock struck ten o'clock, and the Grand Grimoire opened on a boy's bed while nobody was looking. At that moment, change struck like a lightning bolt.

Isaac turned around suddenly as he saw an impossible sight: a massive light in the middle of town, expanding and spreading the inside.

"Oh my god." Isaac turned and ran for his life.

However, the massive light was faster than he could ever be. Somehow, in the back of his mind, he felt that if he reached the town limits, he'd be alright. Just maybe, just maybe—

He tripped, and flew through the air. It was just then that the light smashed into him from behind, and life changed forever.


	3. Metamorphosis

The first thing which registered in Isaac's brain as the light smashed into him from behind was a blast of pure fear-driven adrenaline which had no way to expend itself. Why? Mainly because Isaac was suspended in midair, in a sort of diving forward motion, totally unmoving.

Isaac tried to speak, but he couldn't. He tried to move, but he couldn't. He tried to do anything other than think or try, but he couldn't. Then he realised something that he had missed earlier in his fear: he could see. His eyes wouldn't move in the least, but they were still sending images to his brain. Quickly, a second thing registered in his brain; everything was still the same. Everything. Not a thing had changed. It was almost as though someone had frozen all movement of that instant in order to preserve it for their own pleasure.

_Well, if someone did, _decided Isaac, _they're an effing wanker._

Then, quite suddenly, everything around him was moving again. Not in the way it normally would or should, though. First a piece of universe here began pulling away from this piece here, and darkness filled the space. Then it sped up, with pieces of universe getting smaller and smaller in size flying everywhere. It was like some great beast had brutally torn the entire cosmos apart into tiny fragments, so that all that was left was darkness.

One of Isaac's greatest fears was the dark. His heart pounded loud enough that he could hear it in his ears. But then again, that wasn't saying much seeing as nothing else existed. _Uh, great cosmic being out there? _he asked hesitantly. _I didn't mean what I said about you? Could you please, just, you know, put the world back together?_

Almost on queue, Isaac felt himself fidget. Not much, really, but it was something seeing as a moment before he couldn't even blink. Then he fidgeted again. Finding that he could move again, he pulled up into a standing position. Then he fidgeted athird time. Then a fourth, and again, and again, continuing faster and faster until his entire body was being racked by unnatural spasms.

An itchy feeling passed through his entire body as he bent forward into the foetal position. It wasn't quite unpleasant, really, just strange. What he didn't see was the pastel shade of brown fur which was sprouting out of every pore, covering each and every bit of his skin with the short, soft hairs. Even his face and ears weren't spared as the fur passed relentlessly over him.

Isaac, still shuddering and spasming, not really knowing if he was above the ground, upon it or whether the ground even existed anymore, wrapped his arms around his knees. As he did so, both arms and legs got grinding sensations in them as they got smaller and slightly thinner. As he shrunk, his clothes reorganized themselves to fit his form. His heavy orange jacket thinned out into a comfortable orange vest, and his normal shirt turned into a too-big forest green long-sleeve shirt. His pants turned into large brown shorts which covered him until just below his knees.

His fingers, knitted togetherbefore his shins, slowly underwent a strange change, going from their normal human proportions to a shorter, thinner, and incredibly more dexterous and nimble form. As this happened, the knitted brown gloves he wore changed, losing the fingers after the knuckle in order to prevent them from hindering movement.

Then, much to his own surprise, Isaac was rocketed out of his foetal position so that his now much smaller chest puffed out and his back almost bent backwards a bit. His eyes flared with white light as a few final changes befell him in a few seconds. Despite the speed of these changes, they were the most dramatic by far. First, his ears grew so long that they were about three quarters as long as he was. At the same time, a spiky red orb grew from the top of his head and lifted away, remaining attached by a thin string-like piece of skin. His fedora, strangely enough, changed its shape to allow for both ears and spiky ball thingy as they grew in. Finally, a smallpairof dark orange batwings grew out from his shoulder blades. All this happened in a few short seconds.

Once this was complete, Isaac's eyes stopped glowing and he just hung in space for a moment. Then, he slowly turned his gaze down upon his new form. He reached up to scratch his head and found a large, rabbit-like ear in the way.

"Kupo," he muttered.

The moment he finished speaking that one word, the world decided to come back together around him. He looked around as whiteness and a light bluecascaded around into a mix of the two coloursto surround him, and varying shades of dark green carpeting down below him.

It took Isaac about point five seconds to realise where his new location was.

"Oh," Isaac said. "Darn it."

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the entire world started working the way it was supposed to. One of the things on the 'supposed to' list was gravity. Due to this gravity, Isaac, several hundred feet up from the ground, began falling at an alarming rate.


	4. Falling from the Sky

As Isaac fell, he managed to get himself into a position he assumed would make him move slower. Not that it would make any difference. Even if that bright light and the destruction and rebuilding of the universe hadn't, this fall would kill him. There was absolutely no doubt about it. Even if by some chance someone were to see him through the canopy of the massive forest below him, what could they do? Catch him?

Isaac sighed, resigned to his fate. It wasn't quite the death he had expected, but then, who _got_ the death they expected? And who even expected how they would die, unless of course they were already dying. At least he got an interesting end. The whole concept of dying in bed in his sleep just didn't appeal to him. Falling a few hundred meters after magically appearing in the sky, well, that was perfectly alright.

Looking down, Isaac was surprised to see something. At first he wasn't entirely sure of what it was. He knew what it looked like, but that was something totally impossible. Seriously, how does a boat fly? Especially one of those old ones, with three masts, different decks and such. The mere idea was stupid. But what else could it be? It seemed to be floating on air. No, wait, it was flying. It was moving forwards, and in a very normal way. Suddenly, it turned towards the direction that Isaac was falling in.

_Oh, great,_ Isaac thought, _they're going to try to save me. Isn't that nice?_

Isaac looked down, and realized something very disappointing. That boat wasn't moving near fast enough to intercept him. Figuring that it would just be disheartening to watch himself pass it by, Isaac turned his attention away from the boat and back to the advantages of dying this way.

To say the least, nobody could say he'd given in to death. It wasn't like he had an option here. To survive this kind of thing, you'd need a parachute, or magic, or wings, or, or… wings!

Isaac righted himself so that he was straight up and down again, then looked over at his left wing. Even for something his size, it was small. There was no believing that he could fly with them, especially when he was already falling so fast. However, they would definitely slow his fall a good deal. Hopefully they wouldn't break in the process.

With a deep breath, Isaac spread his wings for the first time. He felt a moment of disorientation at the feeling of two new limbs moving, but then there was the pressure of the wind getting caught underneath of them, and then flowing out behind. This effect caused him to begin moving forwards slightly and his decent to slow dramatically. Not enough for him to survive, but it was something.

The more dramatic effect it had was over Isaac's mentality. As soon as he felt that wind, he knew, no, _felt_ what to do with it. He instantly felt that this gust was his, and he would use it for his own purposes.

The boat was now speeding up quite a bit. Maybe they were just putting on more fuel or something. Isaac could now see small figures rushing about on the deck, going to and fro. There looked to be five in all. One was pointing to different places, and whenever he pointed, someone would rush off in that direction. There were also two shorter figures and one about as tall as the first. Finally, there was one small person who was, strangely, not moving at all. He just remained where he stood at the head of the ship.

Figuring that he should probably use all of his forward momentum for something, Isaac angled his shoulder so that his wings made him turn. He was aiming more towards their ship now. Knowing that they would now be able to catch him, Isaac let the air past his wings and let them down limp behind his back.

At that moment, the unmoving figure finished casting his spell. Isaac felt a moment of extreme disorientation, and then strangely, everyone and everything started moving much faster. Incredibly faster, actually. The ship looked as though it was rocketing along through the sky, and the people on the deck were moving at a rate which was truly impossible.

Isaac, watching all this, wasn't actually surprised. What with all of the rest of the messed up stuff which had happened in the past fifteen minutes or so, the sudden increase in speed of everyone below him seemed standard.

As suddenly as it had started, the speed ended. Isaac was now about eight meters away from the deck. Below him was a tight net, suspended between several people. Isaac didn't look at those people, he was too concerned with the net. Isaac smashed into it, and strangely, it almost completely broke his fall. Almost. Then, the ropes parted, Isaac fell through and his forehead smacked the floor hard enough to send him into a painful and silent darkness.


	5. A What, kupo?

_Isaac traveled far in his dreams. Normally, his dreams were simply strange delusions and feelings, but at current they were so much more. They were real, powerful… Dangerous. It almost seemed as if he could reach out to touch—_

_In one dream, he held a thin, long blade. He whipped it around his person for protection as much as for attack as another, standing opposite him, rushed forwards, a similar blade in hand. He brought the sword down to knock the blade away, but the other simply used Isaac's momentum to increase the speed of their own spinning strike. By some unknown instinct, Isaac reached up his blade to block it, and felt the shocks reverberate up his arm. However, the shock only pressed him on harder. He needed to hit first, that was all that mattered, nothing else. He needed to be the first to draw blood, those were the rules. In a fury, he lunged forward, knowing that this weapon, this blade he was so accustomed to, was designed for this sort of attack. His foe countered the blow, sending out wide to the side, but Isaac had been counting on it. He spun around the force, jutting his hips forward as he heard his opponent taking a slash at his exposed back. This movement saved him, as he felt the wind whistling by his skin. Fortunately, that slash had put his opponent off-kilter, so that as he came around from his twirl, he brought his sword out to touch—_

_The darkness. The streets. Those were what he knew, and what he hated. It didn't matter where he was, so long as he could find someone with something of worth. Then, that something of worth would be his. However, despite this comfort, he longed for the forest. For anything green, really. When he was out there, in the wild, with his borrowed senses perked, he couldn't be caught. The slightest movement would alert itself to him. Well, whatever. There was no use in just longing. He had to steal enough to buy that damned map which would lead him to the forests. Thus, he was in the game of the taker again, and his target was five feet below him. Slowly, he slithered down without making a noise, and saw what he needed. It was right there, that little bulge in the pocket. Without need of thought, Isaac realised how to get it. Quietly, he pulled out a small and balanced knife; not much to look at, but it was enough for him. Aiming just right, he threw his small blade so that it severed some heavy thing hanging from a rope. He didn't know what it was, nor did he care, just so long as it made a lot of noise when it hit the ground. It did. As his target jumped up, Isaac slipped his hand into the pocket to touch—_

_Isaac was in the air. Not the way he had been earlier that day, free-falling out of control, though. No, he was in charge of this flight. He came down to the ground at an alarming speed, and his powerful legs bent to take the pressure. The bending only built up tension, though, so he quickly released said tension by driving his legs into a straight shape, rocketing himself up into the air again. He held his heavy, long weapon behind him,tilting it this way or that to change his direction. This, this was true liberation, out in the middle of nowhere, with nothing to do but push himself harder and harder against any challenge he might meet. He couldn't imagine being cooped up in some town or something. No, he shuddered to think of that. Too many people pushing in on him. Looking down, he saw only one person. The one person he had been searching for. Why was this person hurting people? Well, it didn't matter. People who hurt other people got hurt. Slowly, he brought his weapon out in front of him, in order to be ready when he came down to reach out and touch—_

_It was cool in the room. But then again, it had to be. If it weren't cool, then the volatile liquid he held might just flare up into an explosion. No doubt it would just do it anyway just to annoy him. Slowly, he reached out with a delicate instrument to retract a small amount of the stuff, which he then quickly deposited into a separate container. Now the fun would begin. Every single drop of this stuff was worth untold fortunes, and each drop of it could kill someone who wasn't careful. Any wrong move could bring disaster. It was a work of exactitudes, and it was a work which he loved. He put on a pair of gloves which were spelled to repel any matter attempting to touch them from the outside. Now wearing them, he reached forward with one finger to push through the liquid, searching for… for… he didn't know what. All he knew was that there was something in there, something to unlock the fiery attributes of this liquid. Because that was what he did. He came up with ideas, and tested them. The ideas weren't always sane, but there was always something driving him onward, something almost tangible, something he could almost feel and touch—_

"I think he's waking, kupo." Curiosity. That was the one thing the voice suggested.

"What?" The voice was quiet and reflective, with a strange sense of wisdom to it.

"His eyes are fluttering, kupo, and he's breathing a bit less deeply." Same voice as the first.

"Out, I need everyone out of this room!" That same wisdom, with a sense of urgency.

"What, why can't we stay? I want to know his story…" Melodious, flirtatious, and female.

"No, I need to have room in case he needs any further healing."

"Eugene." This voice had authority in it above anything else. "I'll stay. I don't mean to offend, but you don't have the best bedside manners."

A pause. "Alright, Rolf. But I want the rest of you out, this instant."

There was a sound of chair legs scratching against wood, and then a door creaking open and closed again.

Then Isaac opened his eyes.

Again there was silence, but that suited Isaac just fine, as it gave him a few moments to get his bearings. He was in a bed, not a particularly soft bed, but a bed nonetheless. Above him was a slightly high ceiling, made out of, apparently, wood.

Then, a face leaned in over his vision. It was a man. Isaac couldn't tell what colour his eyes were, as they were more or less covered by his long, shaggy hair.

"Er, hello, moogle," said the head. It owned the authoritative voice. "I am Captain Rolf Klink of the airship Torrent. Might I ask what your name is?"

"I'm Isaac, kupo," he responded, only slightly distracted by the 'kupo' at the end of his sentence. He was more confused about the word 'moogle'. What the heck was a moogle? And, at that, what was an airship? "Sorry to be rude, but would you mind explaining to me what's going on?"

"Oh, yes, of course. Well, I'll let our doctor explain it to you." Another face leaned in. This one was slightly stranger than the first, as it wasn't human. To begin, it was completely covered in light grey fur. It had a huge snout that was oddly expressive, with two small slits for nostrils. The light blue eyes were slightly small, compared to the rest of the face, and seemed to exude both deep knowledge and an amazing curiosity at the same time. His ears, large and long, drooped down on both sides of his face. Each ear also had a natural hole in the middle, from which hung many rings. He had large, many-coloured bangles hanging from thevarious earrings and necklaces he wore, each one different and all seemingly organized in a certain manner. All the rest of his features which Isaac could see were covered in his loose robes. "May I introduce you," the captain said, "to Eugene Chalier?"

"A pleasure," Isaac said, not really knowing what else to say.

"Wonderful to meet you, Isaac," said Eugene. His was the second voice that had spoken, the smart one. "Now, this is the short version of events. We, at three o'clock this afternoon, were going along our usual trading route when our look-out spotted you, well, falling from the sky. Fortunately, what with this being an airship, we have a planned course of action should anyone fall overboard. So, thanks to some excellent steersmanship on the part of Captain Rolf," Eugene inclined his head to the captain, "and a bit of Time magic on my part, we managed to catch you in time. Your short flight also helped tremendously, so I thank you for that. However, the small problem was that even with our crewmembers holding the enchanted emergency net ready, it wasn't enough to completely break your fall. You ripped through it, and hit the deck rather hard. In doing so, you dislocated your left shoulder, cracked your skull, more or less shattered your left wrist, and broke your left arm in three places."

There was silence a moment. Then, Isaac said, quite flatly, "Wonderful."

"You see Eugene, this is what I meant by the bedside manners," Rolf muttered.

"Hey, I like honesty, and so I try to practise it with my patients."

"Yes, well maybe if you were to just—"

"Uh, sorry to interrupt, kupo," Isaac said, again noting the 'kupo'. "But could someone fill me in on how long I'll be restricted to bed?"

"Sorry?" asked Eugene, sounding genuinely confused.

"I've broken two bones, dislocated one, and cracked my skull. I'm assuming I'll have to stay in bed until I heal, won't I, kupo?"

"Are you joking?" Eugene asked. "I've been using a good deal of white magic on you, and you should be as right as rain by now. A bit achy, but fine."

"Kupopo?" Isaac asked, noticing the slight variation on his new favourite word.

"Eugene here," Rolf said, "along with being experienced in Time magic, has a good deal of practise in the white magics. He managed to heal you up in roughly an hour."

"Alright," Isaac said, shaking his head. This was not going to be a fun day, and he knew it. "None of this is making any sense to me, kupo. First of all, what do you mean I'm on an airship? Second, what is white magic, kupo? And most importantly, why do I keep saying kupo, kupo?"

"Uh, well," Rolf said, a look of concern in his eyes, "you _are _a moogle. The kupo thing is sort of a given."

"Do you know what?" Eugene interjected. "Maybe it would be better if we were to just get him up and walking. He's probably got some momentary amnesia. Would you mind helping him, Rolf?"

"Not at all." He reached over and grabbed Isaac around the shoulders, then slowly helped him sit up. As soon as his head was in the air, Isaac felt a sudden moment of dizziness. He let out a small moan as the world began spinning around him.

"Oh, right, you've been out for over eight hours, and that added with the head injury will cause a good deal of nausea right about now," Eugene informed him.

"Don't you think you could have told him that earlier?" Rolf asked as Isaac's head drooped slightly.

"I'm a battlefield healer mage, not a doctor. I'm just used to casting a spell and forgetting it. This is one of the first times I've had a long term patient, so don't get mad at me for this."

"You're filling me with kupo confidence," Isaac muttered.

"Right, let's just get him up and walking. The nausea has gone away, right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine now."

Isaac, still helped by Rolf, slowly got off the bed. He was surprised by how far down he had to jump to get down from it. It must have had something to do with the fact that they were on a boat, or an airship, or whatever. He looked over at the captain, just to make sure he was still being supported, only to be even more surprised. He only came up to Rolf's waist! What was that all about? He knew he was short, but this was ridiculous!

Shaking it off as the captain just being very, _very _tall, Isaac looked around the room. It was pretty big. Actually, everything _in_ the room was pretty big, too. The ceiling looked to be about four metres up, and the room itself was roughly four by seven metres. He could barely look over the edge of the bedside table at the mirror which was set on it in the wall.

But he could. What he saw in the mirror he assumed was some sort of strange portrait of a fantasy creature. It had long, light brown rabbit ears, with extra bits of fur sticking out from the back in a few untidy tufts. The rest of the creature's face was covered in the same such fur. He also a strange growth on his head; a large, slightly spiky red ball. It was attached by a small string-like apparatus.

Isaac smirked at the picture, thinking it pretty cool. The picture smirked. _That was strange, _he thought. He began turning his head to look at the rest of the room, and the character in the painting turned his head.

Shaking now, Isaac raised one hand, observing as the creature mimicked his actions. Finally, his hand shaking, Isaac reached up to his head—

And felt a rabbit ear where his normal one should be.

Isaac passed out.

* * *

When Isaac woke, he was alone. He didn't need to look around to check; his newly enhanced sense of hearing was enough to tell him that nobody was in the room. Slowly, he sat up, of his own free will this time.

_At least that's alright, _he thought. Considering what he had seen, he began trying to rationalize, _I remember that transformation after the light hit me, but that could have easily been a dream. And Eugene, he said that I hit my head pretty hard, so that image in the mirror could have been a hallucination. I guess there's only one way to be sure, though._

Quietly, he slipped down from the bed, and then, closing his eyes, hopped up onto the bedside table.

_Well, this is it. If I'm still a, what did Captain Rolf call me, a moogle,_ he decided, _then I'll just have to accept that this is how thing are from now on._ He opened his eyes.  
Before him stood the reflection of a two foot tall, when not counting the ears, moogle. A moogle. Not a human.

"Dammit, kupo," he muttered under his breath, noticing the 'kupo' once again. He figured that the word must have been a package deal with being a moogle.  
But that small part of speech didn't bother him. It was kind of convenient, really, having a word that worked for everything, it seemed, that wasn't about fourteen syllables long, like supercadjufradulistickexpialladocious.

What really bothered him was his general appearance. His clothes, while in a style he couldn't deny he liked, were a bit too large for him, all of them slightly baggy. His gloves, he had to say, were pretty awesome; they were the exact same as the ones he was wearing before the light hit him, just cut off at the first knuckle. Flexing his fingers, he also noticed how much more exact and smooth they moved. He liked his hat. It was pretty cool, that it was still there and all, totally unchanged aside from the holes for his rabbit ears and… ball thing. What was that for, anyways?

Slowly, he hopped back down onto the bed and laid down, feeling slight discomfort as his wings were pressed between his back and the blankets. _Wings… I have wings_, he thought. _While not exactly something that I would normally say, it is pretty nice. _

As he lay there, he noticed the slight rocking motion of the entire structure he was in, and also the familiar low hum of some sort of machinery. He decided to get up and investigate. Leaping down from the bed, he fluttered his wings a bit to make the landing a bit less hard. As quietly as he could, he opened the door and walked out, looking around.

He was in a very short hallway, with two doors on the wall opposite him, a short staircase leading up to the left, and a final door at the end of the hall to the right. It was dark out, and he could just barely see the area. Gazing around, he made his way towards the stairs, noticing that the entire structure seemed to be made of some sort of wood. Instead of wasting energy on climbing the stairs, as he would probably have to literally climb each step, he fluttered his wings and hovered up to the top.

He found himself on the deck of a ship. Not one of those giant yachts, or a small sailboat, or even a speed boat of some sort, but an actual, giant, three-masted schooner. It was like one of those ships from a pirate movie. He was on the lowest front deck, while the higher rear deck, what was it called again… the poop deck was just behind him.

It was nighttime. The moon hung above the center mast like an orb, full and completely unobstructed by clouds. Everything around Isaac seemed peaceful and quiet, totally normal. It was a beautiful sight, but it was strange somehow. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, not anywhere to be seen. It was possible, but quite unlikely. Even on clear nights, there was usually at least a bit of scattered mist somewhere.

Isaac found himself strangely entranced by this perfect, unobstructed vision of the moon. He dimly realised that this was the first time that he had seen _this_ moon, because it definately wasn't the one from his own world. The silvery light it released mesmerized him in a way his own moon never had. His eyes drank in that strange light for several moment, before finally tearing his eyes away to focus on the banister.

Slowly, already anticipating what he would see, he made his way to the edge of the deck, and looked over the banister. Below the ship, where there should have been water, there were clouds. Very thin amounts of clouds, so that he could see through them to the land below. The land _far _below, so far that it was barely visible, even in the bright moonlight. He could tell, however, that the land looked flat, not at all like the forest he had been plummeting towards those few days earlier.

Regarding this, Isaac didn't feel any shock or surprise. Maybe there was just so much that one could take in a day, before everything just seemed normal. If so, he figured he had survived enough to be at that point.

He walked slowly back down the staircase. Now, he wanted to know where the sound of machinery was coming from. His large, attentive ears could tell that the noise came from behind the door at the end of the hall. Once again trying to be quiet, he snuck down the hallway to the door. He was surprised by how quiet his feet were, not making the wood creak in the least.

He opened the door cautiously, then walked in, closing it behind him. The entire room was filled with the hum of machines, working away at whatever their intended purposes were. There was a small glowing orb in a socket on the wall, casting a pale yellow glow in a small area. In that light, Isaac could see the large machines, attached to the walls and coming into and out of the ceiling and floor. They were all different, with knobs, levers, pumps, gears, pulleys, and all kinds of different meters measuring everything. It seemed like heaven to Isaac.

Staring wide-eyed at the mechanical wonders around him, Isaac took a few steps forward, gazing at all of the different machines and guessing at their purposes.

"Beautiful, aren't they, kupo?" came a voice from behind Isaac.

Isaac turned around to see another moogle behind him, leaning up against a large drum which was attached to one machine. This moogle's fur was a pristine shade of pearly white. His clothes were simple; a purple jacket which covered most of his person, and several belts and straps which were secured loosely around it. Isaac's eyes were instantly drawn down to the sword which hung loosely at the moogle's hip from a wide belt.

The moogle followed his gaze and smirked. "You like my sword, kupo?"

"What can I say," Isaac said, "I've never seen one before."

"What, you've never seen a Flametongue? They're pretty common amongst us mog knights right now, kupo, and fighters and gladiators have been using them forever."

Isaac assumed that the sword was called a flametongue, and let it slide. "Er, well, maybe I just can't remember well right now. I did crack my skull a little while ago, kupo."

The other moogle laughed a slightly high-pitched belly laugh. "Too true, too true." He approached Isaac and offered a hand, or paw. "I'm Foobar, the ship's co-machinist."

Isaac took the hand and shook it. "Isaac, kupo, totally confused and unexpected passenger."

Foobar's smile widened somewhat. "Meh, that's how I got my job here."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, kupo, I was walking around Baguba Port, when I got attacked by one of the clans. I—"

"Wait, sorry, please explain something to me. What is Baguba Port and what are the clans?"

Foobar regarded him curiously. "You did hit your head pretty hard, didn't you, kupo? Ah well, Baguba Port is the fifth largest city and the largest airship port in the country, and it also happens to be the city with the highest concentration of moogles. Overall, for air dwellers like us, it's a kupo place. However, the clans are in constant turmoil over it, seeing as it's a difficult place to defend with the easy access on caravans taking trade routes. One clan, called Clan Dip, saw me with my kupo sword, and decided that they wanted to 'recruit' me." He shook his head. "When I refused, they attacked me six to one before I could call forth a judge to witness it. Fortunately, before they could beat me too badly, my kupo companion showed up. I didn't know him at that point, but he just rushed in with his gun blazing, and all of a sudden all of the clan members started fighting amongst themselves. During the confusion, he managed to grab me and get us out of there." He was silent for a moment.

"Kupo," Isaac said. "What happened next?"

"Well, I was roughed up pretty badly, so I don't remember kupo. Afterwards, he said he more or less dragged me to the airship, where Eugene, who you've met, healed me up. It took me a lot longer to heal than you, seeing as Eugene wasn't as skilled as he is now. By the time I came to, we were in the air, kupo, and I was so good with a wrench anda sword that I got hired."

Isaac shared his silence this time. He was quiet as Foobar checked several pressure gauges around on the machines, turning a few knobs every now and again. At length, Isaac asked quietly, "So where's your companion now, kupo?"

"I'm right over here," answered a voice from the shadows to the left.

From said shadows emerged another moogle. His fur was probably at one point the same colour of white as Foobar's, but it was now dyed grey with grime and sweat. He looked like he hadn't had a bath in three weeks, and smelt a bit like it too. His clothes were different from Foobar's because they were ragtag, patchwork, and very ragged in general. Hehad ona short, ripped up shirt, and over it he wore a variety of ripped up cloaks. On his head he wore a large cap, red and white in colour, which didn't let his ears through. He wore a dangling belt covered in ammunition from his left shoulder to his right hip. Around his hips were looped two belts, each one with a different gun on them.

He smirked at Isaac. Moogles seemed to enjoy smirking. "I thought that the work around here was too much for one moogle to handle, kupo, so I asked the captain if he could stay on. And as you can see, things have gone kupo. I'm Clay."

"Nice to meet you. So, you two work this _entire_ room? On your own?"

"Well," Clay said, looking a bit embarrassed, "most of these machines aren't in use right now. We pretty much adjust the number online depending on how large our cargo is and how many machinists we've got working, kupo. So, pretty much, the amount of money we make on each cargo is all up to the efficiency and number of kupo machinists."

"Kupo," Foobar agreed, "that and on whether or not we allget killed by a pirate ship."

"Kupopo?" Isaac asked.

"There are _lots_ of pirates out there, kupo. Luckily, between the five of us on board, we can normally fight them off without much damage."

"Do you get attacked often?"

"Not too often, kupo," Clay muttered. "Only about once per cargo. So, as you can guess, we're pretty lucky."

_Lucky? _Isaac thought, shocked. That was a rather large number of attacks, if you were to ask him. "What are you two doing awake, kupo?"

"Well," Foobar said, as he twirled the large green knob of a machine, "I'm doing one of the two nightly checks we have to do. As for Clay… What _are_ you doing up, kupo?"

"I heard you two talking, so I figured I'd come and welcome our guest, kupo," Clay responded, turning to Isaac. "Welcome."

"Thanks, kupo."

"Well, you two should probably get to sleep," Foobar said. "We've got an early morning,—"

"We've always got an early morning, kupo," Clay whispered to Isaac.

"–and you probably still need some rest after that injury, kupo," Foobar finished.

"Yeah, I heard that you're staying in the captain's quarters, kupo," Clay said.

"Oh, those are his? That's alright; I'll be fine just sleeping on the floor or something, kupo."

"Nonsense," Clay muttered, as he led him away from Foobar, who was still making little adjustments. "If you really don't like those rooms, we've got an extra hammock or two down here, kupo."

"Really? That'd be great, kupo!"

"Alright, well, it's right over here," Clay said, as they approached one of the room's corners. Hanging between the wall and several machines were small, tight hammocks, perfectly moogle sized. "Is that good, kupo?"

"Perfect," Isaac said, and he meant it.

"Alright, well, goodnight, then, and welcome aboard the airship Torrent, kupo. I hope the rest of your trip will be a bit less eventful than the first day."

With that, Clay hopped up into his own hammock, and instantly began snoring.

Isaac gave his wings a flutter and got himself up into a hammock strung between the pipes of a large machine which rumbled occasionally. It was comfortable, when all was said and done, and the slight shaking and hum of the machine was rather relaxing. Gazing around him, Isaac marvelled at this wonder which surrounded him, wondering what it would be like to live and work here. Well, no matter, he was going to be there for a little while, at least until they got to Baguba Port, or wherever it was.

_Until then, _Isaac thought, gazing at one machine in the opposite corner as it let out a little plume of steam, _I think I can take this._

He curled up, and, his ears drooping down over his eyes, fell asleep.


	6. Working for his Stay

Isaac woke in the morning feeling awake, refreshed, and vibrant. He began to roll out of bed, only to gasp as the entire structure shook heavily with his movements. So heavily, in fact, that he fell right out of the hammock, which was suspended about a metre and a half from the ground.

On instinct, he rolled with his momentum and went over so that his front was facing the ground. Then, he spread his wings out to break the speed as much as they could, and landed gracefully down on his feet.

_Wings? _he thought, confused. _Oh, right, _he continued, looking down at himself, _I'm a moogle._

Surprisingly, this time he didn't freak out or anything. He just shrugged it off with his weariness and looked around to see if Clay or Foobar were around.

As they weren't in sight, he stepped around a rather large machine and began making his way to the door. There was a spring in his short step, and a certain satisfaction in his eyes. In all truth, he had no idea what was going on, nor what he was going to do, but he would figure it out as he went along, just like he had done back home when he was working on, well, anything.

"Oh, good morning, kupo," Clay's voice drifted down from the top of a machine which was linked to the top of the ceiling. He was standing on a tall ladder, with a wrench in hand, tightening a few bolts. "I guess you had a good rest?"

"It was excellent, kupo," Isaac responded honestly. "That was the comfiest bed I've ever slept in, kupo."

"Well, that's the way it works with us, isn't it?" Clay called back down. "We like living where we work, kupo."

"This isn't quite where I'm working, kupo!"

"But would you work anywhere else if you had the option?"

Isaac considered it seriously. Where else would he work on the ship? Navigation? He was horrible at geography and math. Magic working? He didn't know any. Captaining? Not likely, he didn't have the slightest idea how to lead anyone, let alone a crew on a ship hundreds of metres above the ground.

Isaac was interrupted from his thoughts by Clay's voice. "Hey, the captain was looking for you, you know?"

"Thanks, kupo," Isaac said. "Where is he?"

"On deck, kupo! Where else would he be?"

Realising just how stupid his question had been, Isaac took his leave and walked out the door, heading for the staircase he had used just the night before.

Things were much different than they had been that night. Instead of tranquillity and calm, there was a constant buzz of activity. The wind was blowing, and Captain Rolf was bellowing orders around. He was wearing what Isaac assumed was his official clothing, with a large brown hat that had a large feather stuck through it. Around his shoulders was draped a heavy and warm-looking cloak of a deep black shade. Stuck into his thick belt was a short, straight sword with a very small guard. Beneath the cloak the young captain wore a short shirt of chainmail. Isaac could also just see Eugene up in the crow's nest, looking about and raising a staff every now and again. At the tiller, there was a tall, shapely woman who, much to Isaac's surprise, had rabbit ears taller than his own.

Isaac approached the captain, who had stopped yelling orders from the poop deck. He climbed a short staircase and called out, "Good morning, Captain Tink, kupo!"

Rolf turned to look at him, and smirked. "Good morning, Isaac. Please, don't call me Captain Tink, it just makes things uncomfortable. I'm glad to see that you're alright after you passed out."

"Yes, I apologise for that, it was probably shock or kupo."

"That's alright, and I wouldn't doubt that it was some residualshock that Eugene forgot to tell you about." The captain rolled his eyes. "That Nu Mou is useful in a fight, but he's never been much of a doctor. Even when Foobar…"

"Yeah, Foobar told me about that," Isaac told him.

"Oh, yes, I'm glad that you met Clay and Foobar. They're both very kind, and I was pretty sure you'd be more comfortable with your own kind."

"Surprisingly," Isaac muttered, considering the circumstances, "I was. Oh, yes," Isaac added abruptly, thinking of something that had been bothering him. "I don't intend to let all of your kind actions go unrewarded, kupo. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to work here to pay for my passage."

Rolf waved a hand at him, dismissing the idea. "We can't charge you for saving your life, that'd be unethical. Besides, we were already bound for Baguba, and one more person doesn't make too much of a difference."

"No, really, I feel that I must," Isaac argued. "Besides, I'm quite sure it'll be a pretty boring flight if I don't have anything to do, kupo."

Rolf laughed softly. "I hate to say it, but I guess you're right. Well, then, I doubt that Clay or Foobar will mind if we get a few of the extra machines up and running, that is, assuming that you know how to work the machines."

"Yes," Isaac said, without thinking.

"Well, good, I'll go and tell the others that we'll be increasing the pace soon, and… That reminds me. You haven't met Tifone yet. Come along," he said, and swept down the stairs towards the tiller.

Isaac walked down to where Rolf was standing beside the lady at the wheel. Now that she was turned towards him, he could clearly see what she looked like. All of her skin had a dark tan on its surface, giving her an exotic look. However, that was the least of her exotic features. The before mentioned rabbit ears were among these. A large shock of silvery white hair cascading down to the small of her back as well numbered with the exotic features. Her dark face gave off an alluring and mysterious air. Isaac knew that she was unnaturally tall, even in his new form, for she also had a very strange configuration of her ankles that made her stand up on her toes to go with her ears. Her clothes were all very tight and limited, revealing her shapely form. They were definitely made to prevent hindering movement.

"Isaac, may I introduce you to Tifone, our part-co-steerswoman, part-lookout, and part-fencer extraordinaire. She was integral in getting the net organised to save your life."

Isaac bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, madam."

Tifone giggled, flipping her long hair out of her eyes. "Oh, don't be stupid. It wasn't like I could just let somebody die." She fluttered her eyes exaggeratedly. "Especially, somebody as cute as you."

Isaac found that he couldn't breathe for a moment. "Um, kupo, w-well…"

Rolf snorted. "Be kind, Tifone."

"Oh, don't worry," she said, then gave Isaac a teasingly suggestive look, "I will."

"Kupokupokupo," Isaac gasped.

Tifone burst out laughing, a much heartier sound than the initial giggle, and Rolf rolled his eyes. "For Mateus's sake, Tifone, he just got a long term healing from Eugene, cut him some slack."

"Alright, alright," Tifone said, still laughing. "I'm sorry, I just like messing with people's heads. How's yours?"

"Sufficiently messed, kupo," Isaac responded, taking a deep breath.

"Good, then my job here is done." She turned to Rolf. "Is there any other reason you needed my various talents?"

"Yes," Rolf said, rolling his eyes again. "We're going to be increasing speed roughly thirty percent in about ten minutes, I believe."

"Moogle wants to work for his stay?" Tifone asked, flicking her eyes towards Isaac.

"That he does. Tell Eugene, would you?"

"'Course," she said, gazing up at the crow's nest. "He's been messaging me since we got started this morning. Apparently the winds aren't favouring us today."

"Are they ever?" Rolf asked, then turned back to Isaac. "Let's go on down to the machine room and see if we can find Foobar or Clay."

"Hey, Isaac, would you pass me that wrench, kupo?"

"I'm still using it, kupo, find your own!"

"That _is _my wrench, kupo, you stole it yesterday!"

"Are you kidding? I stole it from Foobar yesterday, kupokupo!"

"Yes," came Foobar's voice called down from above them, "but I stole it from Clay the day before."

"Fine, but just because you guys will steal it from me if I don't give it to you, kupo."

Isaac passed him the contested wrench. That, in itself, was difficult to accomplish, as Isaac was hanging upside down from his short legs, adjusting a bolt about four metres up in the air. So, to prevent Clay, who was on the ground ripping pieces out of a control board, from complaining, he simply dropped it down in a direction more or less above his toolbox. It slipped down and made a loud, satisfying _clang_ noise as it landed in it.

"Kupokupokupo!" Clay jumped up almost half a metre in the air. He glared up at Isaac. "Was that really necessary, kupo?"

"Absolutely," Foobar called down from up above. "Did you expect him to go all the way down from there, kupo?"

"He's got wings!"

"So do you, kupo!" Isaac yelled down, or up, if you considered that he was upside down. "Why couldn't you fly up and grab it?"

"_I'm _not the one who stole it!"

Isaac shook his head in mirth as Foobar yelled something else back down at Clay. He had to say that he loved the work in the machine room, and the constant playful bickering really helped pass the time.

"Hey, who's off shift tonight, kupo?" Isaac called up to Foobar, interrupting yet another rebuttal.

"Oh, er, I don't know offhand. Hey, Clay! Would you mind checking that for me, kupo?"

"I know it, you two are on, kupo, and I'm off."

"Oh, right, like we'll trust that, kupo!" Foobar yelled down.

"What do you mean, kupo? I worked on last night's shift!"

Isaac rolled his eyes and pulled out another wrench to tighten the bolt from his belt. He'd been working with the two irrepressible moogles for just over a week now, and he had taken quite a liking to them. They had explained several things about the world to him, with Isaac excusing it as his amnesia. It was—

"TO ARMS! TO ARMS!" The voice thundered all around them. It was the loudest thing that Isaac had ever heard, and strangely it didn't echo at all in the large, mostly empty room. It came from every direction at once, yelling at them.

After it was done screaming, everything was quiet for a moment. Then Isaac called out, "Uh, what does that mean?"

"That," Foobar said, and then let himself fall, landing on his feet after flapping his wings once or twice. As he stood up slowly, he drew his short, red, flametongue weapon. "That was the call to have some kupo fun."

"Fun?" Isaac asked, mimicking Foobar's fall. "It sounded like we were supposed to be preparing for a pirate attack or kupo."

"That's precisely what we're supposed to be doing, kupo," Foobar told him matter-of-factly as he grabbed the bag he kept beneath his hammock.

"Oh."

"You two ready for the battle, kupo?" Clay asked, running back from his own hammock. He had grabbed an extra belt of ammo, which was now fixed around his left shoulder and right hip, crossing in front of the other belt in an 'X'.

"Totally," Foobar said, pulling out a large, heavy helm. "Who's attacking?"

"The Dark Ship Matrix," Clay informed him, then snickered as he pushed a bullet into his longer gun and cocked it. "I love it when they come up with such annoying and stupid names, kupo."

"Well," Foobar said through the visor of his helm, now well fixed onto his head, "you have to give them points for originality, kupo."

The two of them were about to leave, when Clay suddenly said. "Wait, Isaac, aren't you coming up here to join in?"

"Uh, to tell the truth, kupo," Isaac said. "I don't know _how _to fight."

There was silence for a good minute as both Clay and Foobar stared at him. Then, Foobar said slowly, "Alright, don't blame it on your amnesia, because _everyone _can fight. You're good at handling machines, kupo?"

"Well, yes…"

"Clay, lend him one of your lighter guns, kupo, and he can help you with the sniping," Foobar instructed. Clay ran by Isaac to get to his personal bag again. Then Foobar turned to Isaac. "Seeing as you can work machines well, you should be pretty good with a gun. First thing after this battle, we're teaching you how to fight with a gun and a blade, kupo."

Clay returned holding a small, handheld gun, which actually reminded Isaac quite a bit of the gun he had made for the science fair. He passed it to Isaac, who grasped the handle, feeling the surface and the comfortable curve of the metal. It was heavy, but not too heavy, just right, really.

"Is that alright, kupo?" Clay asked.

"Perfect…" Isaac muttered, breathless.

"Here, do you know how to load it, kupo?"

"Pass me a bullet, kupo," Isaac requested. Clay obeyed, and Isaac felt the small metal pellet. Without knowing how he knew the way, he passed the bullet from his hand to the gun, then pulled back the guard to cock it.

"I think I've handled one of these before, kupo," Isaac told Clay as they started walking towards the deck.

"Great," Clay said, "just make sure you leave some pirates for the rest of us, kupo. Oh, right, you can borrow this belt," he said, giving Isaac the belt he wore with smaller bullets attached to it.

They emerged onto the deck to see the other three crewmembers, Rolf, Eugene, and Tifone, putting on their own equipment and getting ready for fighting. Tifone had a long, thin rapier attached tightly to her back so that its handle protruded over her left shoulder. Eugene wore his same old robes, and had a willow staff clutched in his hands. Rolf wore the same battle gear he always kept; his blade and his chainmail.

"Ah, good to see that the three of you heard us," Rolf said as they approached him. "I see that you're using a gun Isaac. That's good; it shouldn't mess up our normal battle plans much. You'll be up in the crow's nest with Eugene and Clay. All that you really need to do is work with Clay to protect Eugene from any enemy mages, archers or gunners."

"What'll you three be doing, kupo?"

"Well, I'll be navigating the ship, and attacking with a spell or two if I think that the five of you need the help. Foobar and Tifone, on the other hand, will be diving down onto that ship and dealing with our attackers, assuming that they don't get at us first. And if they get at us first, well, we'll deal with that as it comes. Understand?"

"Uh, yes, kupo."

"Good. Well then, to your posts, everyone."

Isaac made his way over to the rigging which lead up to the crow's nest. He saw that Clay was already almost halfway up the network of ropes, so Isaac just got to climbing as fast as he could.

At the top, Clay helped him into the basket. After that, the two rushed to the edge to look over at the airship, which was coming up towards their own ship from beneath.

"Why hasn't anyone attacked yet?" Isaac asked.

"Because nobody's summoned a judge yet, so it's not an official engagement, kupo," Clay said simply.

"Right," Isaac muttered, filing away the words 'judge' and 'engagement' to learn about in this new world. "So how do we choose our targets from amongst all of them, kupo?"

"Well," Clay began, "as far as rangers and gunners go, we can just tell them apart by simply the weapons they carry with them. But remember, those targets are used to dodging, and they'll be targeting us too, kupo, so there'll be a lot of ricochet going off up here; be ready to duck, and don't be afraid to make the me or Eugene duck. The mages, well, that's hit and miss. Hopefully hit, because it isn't good when they manage to cast a spell, kupo. The best way to identify them is by whether or not they're being guarded by other rangers. One more thing; if you ever have a choice between hitting a ranger or a mage, unless the ranger's going to hit Eugene, take the mage, kupo."

"Alright," Isaac said, pulling out an extra bullet from his belt, just to be ready.

"Oh, and try not to hit Foobar or Tifone," Eugene gasped as he pulled himself over the lip of the basket. "They don't like it when we attack them by accident."

The ship continued to advance as Eugene got into a comfortable position. With every passing moment, Isaac could feel the tension rising, and the blood pounding through his heart to his ears. He'd never felt so tense.

"Hey Eugene," Isaac asked, "what happens if somebody dies here?"

"Well," Eugene said, "the judge revives them after the battle. That's why there's very little danger in engagements. However, if somebody gets hurt in a battle before the judge can show up, or if it isn't an official engagement, then whatever wounds gained are permanent. That's why it was so dangerous after you fell."

Isaac nodded, breathing deeply. _Calm down, Isaac, _he told himself. _Nobody is going to die or get hurt, unless course they attack us before the judge shows up, or if one of us dies from something outside of the engagement, or if… Shut up! Don't think that way! _He flipped the safety on his borrowed gun on and off a few times, and then spun it around on his trigger finger.

"Wait for it, Isaac," Clay cautioned as he noticed Isaac's anxiety. "Just wait for a judge to arrive."

The moment that he finished saying that, the judge arrived. He was a large man, covered in massive plate armour, riding a big, wingless bird. There was no doubt that this was the judge, as a flash of light appeared around him and he appeared from nowhere, perched on the edge of the enemy ship's prow. As soon as he arrived, Isaac brought his gun out, and put his left hand on top of it for steadying. The judge's voice rang out across the distance.

"Begin!"

And with that, it began.


	7. Engagement

There was a split second of silence, and then everything started all at once.

Before and beneath him, the enemy ship, _The Dark Ship Matrix, _came barrelling onwards, faster now.

Behind him, Eugene started chanting.

On the railings, Tifone and Foobar jumped off of the edge of the ship?

At the helm, Rolf drew his sword and began manoeuvring the wheel.

Next to him, Clay pointed, and cocked his gun.

Directly where he was standing, a moogle was filled with a sudden rush of adrenaline. Instantly, his eyes flicked around to each of the seven members on the deck of _The_ _Dark Ship Matrix_. There were three rushing over to the railing of the ship, and one at the helm, and one pulling back the string on a bow…

Without thinking, Isaac brought his gun up and fired. Somehow, he knew to brace for the kickback of his small arm, and did so perfectly, so that the weapon hardly even jumped in his hands. The archer, down on the deck far below, let out a barely audible yelp and released his hand from the string so he could rub his opposite shoulder. Isaac spent a moment to smirk in satisfaction.

"DOWN!" Clay yelled, and kicked Isaac's feet out from under him. As Isaac hit the floor, he clearly heard a loud whizzing noise rush by overhead.

Clay reached down and grabbed the back of Isaac's neck, pulling him roughly up to his feet. With a slight shrug as an apology, he turned back to shooting.

Isaac quickly forgot about the hard handling and reloaded his gun. He searched around for a target, and was surprised to note that Tifone and Foobar had landed gracefully and apparently unharmed on the deck of the enemyship. They had both drawn their swords, and were now dancing around, apparently using each other as a pivot and somehow managing to hold a two on one against each of the three fighters tangling with them.

He figured that he would just get in the way if he tried participating in such a battle, so instead, he went back to his main targets: the two figures with bows and the one with a large, strange sphere in his hand. This one was a nu mou. All of a sudden, he threw his hands up in the air, and something strange happened. His skin bulged. It became yellow. He grew wings, a snout, and in general, he just got bigger in size.

"Clay," Isaac said, very scared now. "What is that, kupo?"

Eugene finished casting a spell, and a dull yellow light began pulsing on Tifone's form. Then, he shook his head, and looked down at the battle ground.

"Oh," he said. "Shit. It seems we've got a morpher, gentlemen."

Clay said some choice words, but Isaac simply asked, "A morpher?"

"Nu mous who can assume some physical and magical traits of animals. They can become the most powerful creatures known to man, in cases."

"And," Clay interrupted, "he seems to have chosen a creature that can fly, kupo."

"Which is the exact reason that I said shit, my friend," Eugene informed him.

"So what does this mean, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"Leave this to myself and the captain," Eugene said. "We'll deal with it. You guys just watch Tifone and Foobar's backs."

With that, Eugene swung himself over the edge of the basket, and began climbing back down the riggings.

Isaac, just like Eugene had told him to, turned his attention back to the others on the ship. And not a moment too soon, for he just had enough time to see the arrow coming for his face, and throw himself violently to the side. The arrow whizzed by, just missing his eye. However, it managed to puncture and rip a massive hole through his ear.

Isaac fell to the bottom, issuing a cry of shock more than pain. Someone just shot him in the ear! Somebody actually just shot him!

The next thing he knew, Clay was down there next to him as another arrow whipped by overhead. Clay let out a little "Whoop!" of adrenaline. "This is shaping up to be quite a fun scrap, kupo!" He took a quick glance over at Isaac, then made a double-take and looked at him again. "Oh, you're hurt, kupo!"

"I'm fine, kupo," Isaac protested. "I'm really alright."

"Well," Clay said, "I'll just get that arrow out of your ear. We don't want that thing sweeping down and poking you in the eye or something."

In a quick movement, Clay grabbed Isaac's head in a firm hand and ripped out the arrow with the other. Alance of painflashed down his ear, and then he was fine.

"Are you kupo?" Clay asked.

"Yeah," Isaac said, reloading his gun. "You ready, kupo?"

"Let's roll, kupo."

Both of them stood up and fired their shots at the two bow-users. They were each gratified by the two rangers taking a step back, off-balance. Quickly, they reloaded, each at the same time, and fired again and again. Soon, they had a steady stream going, each one reloading as the other shot, with their opponents forced to take step after painful step backwards. They managed to get six shots off each, until Isaac, shaking with his excitement, fumbled with a bullet and dropped it, forcing them to drop back down.

"Nice work!" Clay laughed. "I can't believe that you think you've never fought before, kupokupo!"

"Neither can I, kupo!" Isaac replied. "I'm sorry for dropping that bullet!"

"It's okay, kupo, I'm surprised that I didn't drop or miss one before then!"

Isaac pushed another bullet into his gun, then gazed over at Clay. "You ready for another round, kupo?"

"Wait for it, kupo" Clay ordered. "Start when I tell you, kupo."

Quickly, he popped up, then threw himself flat again. A moment later, two arrows shot by overhead.

"NOW, kupo!"

They jumped up, and managed to shoot off one shot each, before their attentions were drawn to the deck of the _Torrent_.

"Wow, kupo," Isaac said, dumbstruck.

"No arguments, kupo," Clay muttered.

On deck, the morphed nu mou had landed, and was currently engaging the captain one on one. It swung a massive, clawed fist at Rolf, who expertly ducked it, and then charged forward with his sword swinging. He managed to knock the creature back a few steps, but that didn't stop it.

Even as Rolf began regaining his balance, the nu mou swung around and did a massive tail sweep. It hit him square in the chest, and knocked him flying backwards so that his back smacked against the centre mast.

Barely stunned by the blow, Rolf dropped back to the ground, with his blade remarkably still held in his hand. He paused for a moment, apparently in deep concentration, and then, as the morpher charged at him, he swung his sword in a very controlled, yet powerful, manner.

As they watched, the air between the two combatants rippled and the morpher fell backwards, letting out a strange bellow. Thinking his opponent disabled, the captain rushed forward to deal a final, fatal blow.

He was mistaken. The morpher came up to his feet with abnormal speed, and lunged forward with a clawed hand. He slashed across at Rolf, and caught him in the face. Blood flew, and Rolf fell back, crying out in pain. Not finished with Rolf yet, the half-dragon morpher took in a deep breath, and let loose a blast of pure lightning.

The bolts flew forward.

The captain flew back.

He hit the ground, and was still.

"KUPO!" Isaac screamed, pointing his gun down at the morpher.

"Wait," Clay ordered, slapping a hand on top of his gun. "Eugene hasn't entered this fight yet, kupo."

And, at that moment, Eugene entered the fight. As he hit the deck, he ran over to the captain, his hand glowing with a bright white light. He slid to his knees as he approached the captain, and shoved his hand onto Rolf's prone chest.

Isaac stared on in wonder while the burn marks on Rolf's chest and the gashes on his face slowly faded away and sealed up. As the glow slowly faded completely from Rolf's form, his eyes opened, and he hopped up, rushing again at the enemy nu mou.

"Amazing, kupo," Isaac breathed.

"Yeah," Clay appraised, "they've been fighting together for over a decade, apparently. Either way, we should get back to our targets, kupo."

Turning back to nod to him, Isaac's eyes went wide and he threw himself at Clay, toppling him down into the basket. Not a moment too soon, either, as one well-aimed arrow passed by overhead. A second smacked into the side of the crow's nest, and continued to travel through for a couple inches, finally finishing its movement not a centimetre from Isaac's forehead.

"Oh, kupo," Clay said. "That was close."

"Yeah, kupo."

"Fortunately, kupo, this does give us a bit of an advantage."

"Kupopo?"

In response, Clay simply reached over and pushed the arrow back out of the hole it had made. He put an eye to it, then pulled his face back, smirking. "Beauty, kupo."

Isaac put his eye to the hole, and found that he had a perfect view of the battle field. Everything. There were Foobar and Tifone, who had now dispatched of two of their foes. He saw the two rangers, each one staggering in their movements from the many painful pellet shots. He couldn't, however, see anything from the _Torrent_.

"What do you think, kupo?"

"Beauty, kupo," Isaac agreed.

With that, they began their attacks anew. As Isaac popped up again and again to act as a distraction, he kept close tabs on the duel between the duo of Rolf and Eugene and the morpher. They were doing surprisingly well. Despite their early inferiority to him, they seemed to be dominating now.

And finally, of course, Isaac and Clay were slowly but surely devastating the opposing crew's rangers. They were quite confident that they would finish off the duo in a few moments, when Isaac made a key observation.

"We're getting pretty low on ammo, kupo."

Clay stopped as he was about to shoot, then gazed back at him. "Please tell me you're joking, kupo."

"Nope," Isaac said. He pulled off his belt. "I've got two shots left, and you've just got the one in your gun."

Clay muttered some of his favourite curses, which the moogle knew quite a few of, and then checked the battle field. He muttered softly to himself for a moment, then turned back to Isaac.

"Alright, here's what we need to do, kupo. Do you see those barrels on their deck over there? They're filled with flamegel. Probably used for arming catapults or cannons or something, but that's not important, kupo. I need you to take your two shots, when I say, and back them up as close to those as possible. Then, kupo, I'll pop up and use a fireshot on them, and then, well, boom."

"Er, could you explain that to me in English, kupo?"

"No time," Clay said, his eye to their peephole. "NOW!"

Isaac, trusting to Clay's skill and blind faith, jumped up. He pulled his trigger, purposefully hitting one of the rangers in the lower shin. The ranger backed up a step, with her companion right beside her. Then, Isaac took a shot which landed, just as he planned, directly in front of the other ranger. The two took a few steps back, understanding that they were being chased. Clay jumped up, bringing his gun down to point.

Then, the one entity that had remained unnoticed in the battle came to bear. The steersman of the _Black Ship Matrix _whirled around, reached forward with a hand, and shot a straight, brutally fast line of pure electric energy at the crow's nest of the _Torrent._

Directly into Clay's face. The moogle didn't even let out a cry as he dropped his gun and fell over backwards, going off the rim of the crow's nest and free falling.

Without thinking, Isaac reached out to grab Clay's falling gun, and then took a running jump off the edge of the crow's nest, going into a wing-aided nose dive towards Clay's falling form.

The next few moments seemed to take forever. The feet between he and Clay shrank, just as the feet between the two of them and the deck shrank. Isaac's reaching left hand grasped Clay's shoulder, and got a decent hold. He spun around, meaning to grab the rigging to stop their fall, but his eyes instantly locked onto one thing: the firegel. The rangers were still standing right next to it.

In a moment of pure clarity, Isaac let his will flow down through his arm, into the gun, into the bullet. He knew where it had to be, and what it had to do. He raised the gun and, still falling, pulled the trigger. The bullet erupted from the barrel with a rush of flame.

Having shot, Isaac dropped the gun and reached forward, wrapping his arm around the rigging. Both he and his baggage came to a sudden stop, pain wracking through Isaac's arm. He was dimly aware of seeing the judge, still riding his strange bird creature, make an impossibly far jump, crossing clean across from the _Dark Ship Matrix _to the _Torrent._

Then the fireshot hit its target, and the clear, afternoon sky appeared to dim.

There was silence for a moment as the flames reached up into the sky, at least twenty metres. Then, its sound wave caught up to the rush of heat and light, and there was nothing but roaring for a full ten seconds.

When their eyesight returned a few moments later, Clay croaked weakly, "Sweet, kupo."

Half of the enemy airship was gone. Simply gone. There was _nothing _left, but for a few charred pieces of debris left on the other half of the airship. The rangers and the steersman were both gone, totally engulfed in the flames.

On the other side of the ship, however, there was the one, or more like two, parts of the equation that they'd forgotten.

"Dammit!" Isaac yelled. "Foobar and Tifone, kupo!"

The two moogles began quickly descending the riggings, hoping that they would be fast enough to save their comrades.

On the deck of the _Black Ship Matrix, _Tifone was quickly tying the end of a rope to her rapier as Foobar held off the remaining warrior alone. It was a very difficult thing to do, what with the way the remaining half of theship was slowly dipping downwards. Tifone finished tying her knot the moment that Isaac touched the deck of the _Torrent _after Clay. She reached over and wrapped one slender arm around Foobar's shoulders, who in turn wrapped both of his arms around her, and they ran away from the warrior, up the increasingly steep incline, and jumped for all they were worth. Clay and Isaac, watching this, stunned, from the railings of the _Torrent, _knew that they would never make the jump. However, just as they were about to reach the pinnacle of their arcing leap, Tifone threw her rapier with as much strength, speed, and accuracy as possible. It flew forward, still attached to Foobar and Tifone by the rope, and thudded into the hull of the _Torrent._ They stopped their fall, and swung there, holding on to each other and to their only lifeline.

Isaac and Clay stared, breathing deeply. They were about to yell out in jubilation, when an ominous _CREAK! _noise came from the wood around the area where the rapier was stuck through the wood.

"This is just getting annoying, kupo," Clay sighed. He gazed over at Isaac. "There's a porthole right next to where the rapier is stuck through, kupo, let's go and pull them up."

They turned to head for the staircase, but found it blocked by a large nu mou-yellow dragon morph which the two of them had forgotten about in all the adrenaline and excitement. It was sheltering there while Rolf was catching his breath and Eugene was drinking a potion of some sort.

"Always the hard way, kupo!" Clay yelled. He ran over to the closest mast, and reached into a long box at its base. He pulled out two short swords, much like the captain's blade and Foobar's flametongue. "Have you ever used a blade, kupo?"

"Nope, kupo," Isaac responded.

"Good, because neither have I!" He tossed one of the blades to Isaac, who caught it by its handle. He got a feeling much like the one he'd gotten when he'd held the gun. The weight, the grip, the balance, they were all normal to him.

"Okay, here's the plan, kupo," Clay said, putting on his planning face again. "We rush over there, kupo, we attack him, kupo, and if one of us gets an opening to go down the stairs, kupo, we take it."

"That's it, kupo?"

"Hey, I'm pressed for time right now. You ready, kupo?"

Isaac tightened his grip on the sword. "Totally."

They rushed at the nu mou, a few steps apart from each other, their blades brandished. He whipped his tail around, trying to trip them, and while Clay went down, Isaac simply jumped over it. The morpher then tried sweeping at him with his claws, but Isaac simply ducked under the first, and whirled around the other. He was far too close now to get a good slash in, so he instead lead in with his elbow and caught the creature in its jaw. He forced the creature's head off to the side, hoping that that would prevent its powerful electric breath weapon.

It wasn't the breath weapon that he should've been afraid of. The nu mou reached over with its borrowed strength, and grabbed Isaac by his front, lifting up into the air. It roared straight into his face, then threw him backwards.

Isaac flew a good two metres, then hit the ground and rolled head over heels backwards. He came back up to his feet just as Rolf and Eugene ran up to him.

"Are you alright, Isaac?" Rolf asked.

"I'm fine, kupo! Did Clay get through?"

"Yes, he crawled behind the beast just as you elbowed him there," Eugene informed him, then his gaze shot to Isaac's ear. "Oh, you must let me heal that."

"No, I'm alright…"

"It's no trouble," Eugene insisted, then pointed to the ripped skin. "_Cura desiara weiss._"

A comforting coolness spread into the burning pain which had been emanating from his ear.

"Okay," Eugene said. "Now that you're alright, what were you two doing with that mad dash anyways? Clay's never even lifted a sword."

"Well, he's down there right now pulling Tifone and Foobar up from the brink of death from which they're hanging by a very weak rope attached to a rapier embedded in the hull of the ship on a few boards which seem as though they're willing to break apart at any moment." Isaac thought for a moment, then, much to his own surprise, conciouslyadded, "Kupo."

"Alright, Rolf and I shall deal with the morpher, then. Stand back."

With that, the two of them stood up straight, and spun to face the creature. They started taking steps towards it, both in time with the other. The morpher, apparently sensing their comfort in this position, also began walking forward. Slowly, their pace increased, preparing to charge. As they broke into a full-out run, Eugene brought his staff up above his head, and screamed "_Stop requiria zeite!_" The morpher stopped moving suddenly. Eugene slowed to a stop, but Rolf kept running, and hit the morpher with a massive tackle. He wasn't done however, as he wrapped his arms around the half-dragon, half-nu mou and lifted him off the ground, still running. He ran all the way to the edge of the ship, then yelled, "Return to your own fallen ship, and let this engagement end!"

He threw the morpher off of the edge, with the time stopping spell still in effect.

A few moments later, Clay climbed back up the stairs, with Tifone and Foobar in tow.

"So, how're you three?" Tifone asked nonchalantly.

"Pretty good. It's nice to see that you two didn't fall to your deaths or get burned to death."

"Yeah, and it's nice to see that you four didn't get eaten alive by a mad nu mou or fall to your deaths from the crow's nest, Rolf."

They nodded to each other, and then the five of them just stood around, as though waiting for something, though Isaac couldn't imagine what.

However, a few moments later, what they were waiting for showed itself, in the form of the judge rushing up and declaring, "The victory goes to the crew of the airship _Torrent_. All injuries on both sides shall now be healed." As he said this, each member of the crew was bathed in a pale white light. All the remaining weariness from the battle was washed away in its radiance. The judge continued. "Judge points are due in the following amounts to the following participants from the crew of the _Torrent_: Tifone, one, Foobar, one, Rolf Tink, one, the following participants from the crew of the _Dark Ship Matrix_: none, and to the following ally of the crew of the _Torrent_: Isaac, 3." As he said this, he raised his arm, and a curious thing happened. It looked as though several small, bright stars erupted from the base of his greave, and flew out in the numbers he had stated to the people he had stated. Isaac, on instinct, reached out and caught the three which came his way, and as each one landed in his outstretched palm, it took the shape of a large card with the number 1 on it, along with some sort of seal. "All damage or stealing of equipment or property will not be refunded."

With that, he vanished.

There was silence. Then Rolf said, extremely boredly, "Well, lady and gentlemen, let's get back to work."

Isaac was, to be sure, stunned. "That's it, kupo?"

"That's it," Rolf said. "Maybe you're used to engagements on the ground, but in the air we have to get back to work. So, just shove those judge points into your sash, and we'll get back to work." He started moving back to the tiller, but turned back to say, "Nice shot, by the way."

Eugene and Tifone followed him, each going back to their respective duties. Foobar approached him with a smirk on his face. "So, you don't know how to fight, kupo?"

"Well, I guess I do, kupo," Isaac said, also smirking. "Oh, and sorry for almost blowing you up."

"That's quite alright, kupo. I was getting freaked out by the idea of having to fight that mage steersman, anyways."

"Hey, how did that guy know that I'm not a member of the official crew, kupo?"

"All of us crew members have these, kupo," Clay told him, showing a small badge on his sleeve. It had a white lightning bolt, surrounded by black clouds. "That's the official seal of the _Torrent._ Anyone who's wearing this is considered on our team, kupo."

"So, what are we doing now, kupo?"

"Collecting our judge points and starting maintenance on our machines again. Hey, speaking of judge points, kupo, where's your sash?"

"I, uh, must have lost itin my fall, kupo."

"Oh Famfrit, that's horrible, kupo!" Clay exclaimed. "All of your judge points, just… gone!"

"Well, I can earn them back, kupo."

"Here, I keep an extra on me, kupo," Foobar said, as he pulled out what looked like what would be called on Isaac's world, a red purse.

Isaac took it, and looked it over. It was connected by a thick red strap which could function as both a belt and a haversack, depending on the adjusted length. The actual bag was interesting. It was very thick leather, well connected and stitched. Inside of the actual sack portion were ten slots, each one roughly the size of the judge point cards he'd been given. He decided that it would be fine. All of the others, he noticed, were wearing them. He slipped his three judge points into the sack, and swung the bag around his right shoulder and left hip.

"Thanks," Isaac said, nodding his gratitude. "But now, we've got work to do, kupo."

The three walked down into the depths of the ship.

Isaac woke up. He could hear the soft hum of the operational machines all around him, and the occasional metallic _ting! _noise of either Clay or Foobar tinkering with a machine. Slowly, he sat himself up, and reached for his head to touch the rabbit ear he just expected would be there now. His body needed sleep desperately, but he just couldn't get it. He hadn't had a full night's sleep for three days, and it seemed as though it kept getting worse with each night. Shaking his head, he swung himself over the edge of the hammock, and landed totally braced for the impact. His sash slapped lightly against his side, now one more judge point heavier.

Isaac made his way quietly towards the door so as not to wake Clay. He nodded to Foobar as he passed him, and walked out the door and up the staircase quickly. Once he was on deck, in the bright light of the moon, he approached the front of the ship, and leaned against the lower of the two banisters. He looked around him, at the thickgroupings and formations of the clouds.

"You should be getting some sleep, Master Isaac."

Isaac didn't even turn around. "Good evening, Rolf."

"It's more like good morning," Rolf muttered as he walked up beside Isaac. He too leaned against the banister, and the two of them simply stood there, taking in the beauty of the skies.

"So," Rolf ventured at length, "what's bothering you?"

"Why do you think that there's something that's bothering me, kupo?"

"Well, Foobar told me that you haven't been sleeping well the past few nights, and I know that the only time I ever come up here alone in the middle of the night is to get some time to think."

Isaac remained silent, and Rolf didn't press him. Finally, Isaac said quietly, "I'm scared, kupo."

"Scared?"

"Yes, kupo, scared. I don't know anything about Baguba Port. I don't know anything about the world in general. All that I really know or remember about this entire world consists of what I've seen from this ship, kupo."

"Ah," Rolf said, "so you're afraid of the unknown."

"Who isn't, kupo?"

They remained quiet for a short while longer. They both knew what they were each looking at: several bright, magical lights, clearly visible on the horizon many miles away through the haze of the clouds. These lights were the famous beacons of Baguba Port. They lit the way for airships travelling in the night, and provided the light for the markers that each individual airship carried. Taking a glance over his shoulder, Isaac saw the _Torrent_'s marker up in the crow's nest, glowing out to help prevent any other ships from accidentally colliding with them.

"Hey," Isaac said, "what is it that _you _need to think about, kupo?"

"I'm sorry?" Rolf asked.

"You said that you only ever come up here at night when you need to think about something, kupo, and I know that I sure didn't wake you up."

"Ah, yes, well," Rolf said, thinking hard. "Well, I was trying to think of the best way to phrase a question to someone."

"And have you come up with it, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"Actually, I have," Rolf confirmed.

"Good," Isaac said. "I guess I'll go to sleep, kupo. I want to wake up early to take one last look at the maps so I can plan where I'm goi…"

"Do you want a job?"

Isaac stopped talking, moving and breathing for a moment. "I beg your pardon, kupo?"

"I was wondering whether or not you'd like a job," Rolf repeated. "You've proven yourself to be quite the machinist, almost as good as Clay and Foobar, and you're useful to have around during a fight."

"Well, kupo, I, kupo…"

"Oh, don't act modest," Rolf said. "You're brilliant with a gun, and Foobar says you're learning how to fight with a blade quickly. Besides, I was thinking of hiring another machinist and another guard after this cargo, so that we can deliver more, you know? And hiring you means that I'm killing two chocobos with one stone. Not to mention I'll only have to pay one person."

"Uh," Isaac said, finding it hard to breathe. "You're serious now. You're not just doing this as some part of an elaborate hoax?"

As proof that he was not, Rolf pulled something out of the pocket of his cloak and handed it to Isaac. It was a small badge, with a white lightning bolt surrounded by dark clouds. "Do you want to join my crew?"

One by one, Isaac's fingers closed around the badge. Then he looked up, and said, "It would be my pleasure, sir."

Two days of rapid loading and unloading of cargo and two rowdy nights of drinking and singing in the pub later, and Isaac was standing on the deck of the _Torrent. _He had sewn the badge onto his left sleeve, where it stood out clearly against the pale fabric. He had also purchased a long (relatively), dark brown cloak, his own proper set of tools, a gun with a long barrel designed for long distance sniping called a "Chaos Rifle", a few belts of ammunition, and a blade called an "Atomos Blade".

"Alright, let's go, right now, on the double!" Rolf bellowed from the wheel. "Let's hoist that sail, come on now, you four! Let's see you working it! Put your backs into it!"

Isaac was behind Tifone, pulling for all he was worth. He looked over to the right for a moment to see Clay and Foobar pulling at another rope, also attached to the sail, trying to get it as tight as possible. His cloak billowed behind him as they built up speed from their own physical efforts, Eugene's constant magical aid and Rolf's expert steering.

"We're almost there, we're almost there!" Rolf yelled, and then, they were there.

The ship slowly began reaching up off the ground, constantly getting higher and faster, and as the ship rose the wind around them increased. They passed by the many magically sustained towers and docking platforms of Baguba Port, and several smaller airships that they had to keep dodging.

After Rolf announced that they could stop pulling, Isaac slowly approached the front of the ship and held his fedora to keep it from coming off. He felt the wind, pulling at each individual strand of his fur, whistling through his larger ears. Quietly, he sighed as he stood there. There was an unknown destination before him, an equally unknown 'home' port behind him, and adventure everywhere in between.

Isaac had never felt so alive.


	8. Duel with an Inquisitor

_Now, he had reached his goal. It wasn't the greatest step he'd ever taken, but it was an important one. He'd worked for the past few months, fighting, competing, learning. Now he stood, tired and sweaty, alone in the dust, with the crowd roaring like thunder around him. Breathless, he just managed to pump one fist into the air, clenched around the hilt of his weapon. Someone approached him bearing his prize. Slowly, he reached out with his other hand, laying it out across his chest, then brought it out to touch—_

_Finally. It had taken him three precious months to do it, but here he was. He'd mastered some dark talents and abilitiesto do it, skills he wished to put behind him. But it was worth it. The tranquility of this natural place, the beauty of its simplicity, the majesty of its strength. They all combined to make something… more. Walking over to the proud trunk of a great Moonwood, he reached out to touch—_

_He growled and ducked under the swing. This was madness! The crowd calling and jeering, inciting a rage within him which had no target other than the being who stood before him. He couldn't help it, even though he didn't want to, he threw himself forward with his blade held before him, slashing through his foe's skin and bones. Then the spell passed. He stared at the thing before him which had once been a living being. Slowly, he fell to the ground. For support, he brought his hands down to the earth to touch—_

_This was it. This time it would work, and before everyone too. They would applaud him this time. Slowly, he pulled forth that seed of pure fire which he'd discovered. Carefully, he drew it up above his head to show everyone. Then, after they'd gotten a good view of it, he threw it into the prepared area, and watched the flame blossom forth. He smirked at their collective gasp, and swept into an elegant bow. Yes. There was no way they could deny him that special honour he'd been waiting for. A large, impressive figure approached him with his hand outstretched. He reached forward to touch—_

"Isaac!"

Isaac sat up fast, forgetting, per usual, that he was in a small piece of fabric hanging a few metres up in the air. Almost on reflex by now, he braced his legs and his small wings, then fell the distance.

"Good morning, kupo!" Isaac said, still in a crouch from his landing.

"You were dreaming again, kupo," Foobar told him, giving him a concerned look. "You should really see somebody about that."

"I'll see someone as soon as we get to Baguba, kupo," Isaac promised. "We're supposed to be back by tomorrow night, no, kupo?"

"We might," the other moogle muttered. "We've been issued an order to stop, kupo, so that our ship can be searched."

"What for, kupo?" Isaac asked. He was as annoyed by the prospect of being searched as Foobar. There were airships being constantly sent out by the palace to search the independent, commercial airships. Whenever they got stopped, it always took at least an hour before they were done.

"There've been some rumours, kupo," Foobar said. "About this human boy who's becoming a thorn in the palace's side."

"How so, kupo?" Isaac asked, getting interested now.

"Well, they say that he's been supporting some underground operations, kupo, during which time he helped a certain Ezel Barbier to escape the _Judgemaster_, and apparently," Foobar's voice dwindled down to a whisper, as though the very fact he was about to say the next words might condemn both of them to death, "he destroyed one of the world threads, kupo."

Isaac stopped moving and breathing abruptly. "Kupopo?" he breathed. During his time at the pub in Baguba, he'd heard many rumours about the 'world threads'; great crystals with guardians of immense power which were used to protect each race and keep the world in balance, not to mention existence.

"They're just rumours, kupo," Foobar repeated. "But just imagine it? And apparently this is a pretty young kid too, kupo."

"Did they mention his name, kupo?"

"Apparently it was Marche, the leader of a 'Clan Nutsy', kupo."

They were quiet for a moment. This was not the average pub gossip. This was earth-shattering news, which could cause massive repercussions.

"You should get yourself straightened up," Foobar said at length. "We want to look as organized and intimidating and possible for these guys, kupo."

"Are you coming?"

"Nah, kupo, I have to turn off all of the forward propulsion machines. I'll meet you up there."

Isaac nodded, and then went over to where his pack was stored next to the machine. He pulled out his weapons, attaching them as he liked them: his gun in a custom-made holster on his left leg for fast and easy access with his right hand, a belt of ammunition totally filled with small bullets, and his sword hanging tightly from his right leg, so that his left hand could easily reach across and snatch it. Then, he securely put on his cloak, so that it hung loosely enough for him to keep his left arm emerged, proudly displaying that well-earned badge on his sleeve. Finally, after cleaning his head fur a bit, he plopped his fedora down onto it, and then quickly ran out onto the deck.

The rest of the crew, minus Foobar, was already up there. They were all wearing their best clothes, and had their weapons openly displayed. Each of them wore a cloak, attached loosely like Isaac's. Even Clay had managed to make himself look somewhat respectable, though hestill managed to somehowkeep his ragtag look about him.

"Well, it seems we're ready for this," Rolf said grudgingly. "Remember, no matter what happens, even if they draw weapons, don't lay a hand to a hilt unless they make a swing or cast a spell. If they do attack us, you all know the formation; Tifone and Foobar out front, then me providing cover magic and melee, then Clay and Isaac shooting off anything necessary, and last Eugene, who will focus on healing magic. Got it?"

"You know we do, just like you always know we do whenever we get into one of these situations," Tifone said, giving him an amused look.

"Yes, but we don't want to be accused of attacking a Palace Airship." Then he grinned, and added, "Also, if they do accuse us of anything, we don't want to get caught, do we?"

"And most of all, we don't want to admit to any of the other airship crews that we actually got beaten by some palace scum, kupo" Clay growled.

"Pretty much. How long until the ship shows up, Eugene?"

"They should be coming into sight from the West… now."

And they did. A large ship, humongous and imposing, cut through the clouds and began closing with their ship. The wood was all the darkest shade of brown they'd ever seen on an airship, no doubt lacquered and made of some overly expensive trees. There were five sails on this ship, the extra two triangular sails attached to the third mast. There was a massive flag attached to the top mast, in the design of a crown with a law card stuck through it. On the side was painted the word _The Flame_.

"Whoa," Rolf said, envy clear in his voice. "Nice ship."

"Is anyone else picking up a general sense of dread?" Eugene asked.

They remained quiet as the ship continued approaching. They were still standing there, staring, when Foobar walked on deck.

"Hey, what's going on, you guys. What are you staring… uh, oh," he gasped. "Kupokupokupo. They sent _that_ ship after _one kid_?"

"Uh-huh," Eugene said.

"I think I need to meet this Marche person, kupo. He must be doing some _serious _crazy stuff to have the palace this obsessed with him."

"Good on him," Tifone said.

They continued gazing at the colossus before them for another few minutes, before Rolf finally said, "Well, let's get to work, everyone. Everyone be ready for the boarding, and no more bashing of the palace while they're this close. Look sharp."

Everyone got about to business, but Isaac noticed a certain look passing between Eugene and Rolf. It was recognition, anger, shock, and acceptance, all at once. What did they know?

Shaking his head, Isaac helped Clay grabbing some ropes.

The ships took five minutes of navigation and crew work on both sides to become docked to each other. As soon as the lines were secured and a ladder had been attached to the decks of both ships, the crew of _The Torrent _got themselves in order appropriate for this sort of affair. Eugene and Tifone stood side by side on the right side of the ladder, Isaac, Clay, and Foobar standing behind them in a straight horizontal line, and Rolf a few steps back from the ladder, facing it with his shoulders squared and his jaw set.

Isaac watched as three figures approached from the other ship, one ahead, and two walking behind him. One of the rear party members was clearly a moogle, and was wearing an outrageous outfit. It was a giant half-black and half-red cloak, which was huge on him. Also, he wore a double pointed hat, one half red, the other black, which sat low on his makeup covered face. The sleeves were also long and flowing, beginning to cover his tightly-gloved hands. Isaac noticed several barely visible shapes through those sleeves, and he instantly identified them: knives. Isaac thought there was something familiar about him, but dismissed it. He'd been in this world too short a time to know anyone.

The second was a nu mou. She was wearing the garb traditionally associated with black mages: billowing blue cloaks which obscured every details of a person's body, a short, wicked looking cane, and an enormous hat which almost managed to cover her face and the unnatural yellow eyes which were a side effect of so altering nature. From a loose belt around her waist hung several pouches of unknown materials.

The final, and lead, boarding party member was a tall and broad-shouldered lizard-creature which Isaac had learned was called a bangaa. They were a proud and tribal race which, by all reports, were all either the most ferocious wilders you could ever be unlucky enough to face, or the most faithful and non-judgmental partners you could hope to be alongside. This one wore a heavy helm which, in the bangaa style, covered the entire face aside from the lower jaw and long, floppy ears. The mid-sized kiltof a defender was tightly bound beneath a set of heavy, shiny silver armour. Everything about him seemed to suggest sheer power and determination. By his side hung a very heavy looking broadsword.

He approached Rolf, his gaze never flickering from the man. He stopped his march forward barely a foot from the captain, and stood, towering at least a foot over Rolf. The human met the bangaa's gaze evenly.

"Greetingsss, Captain Rolf Tink of the airship _Torrent_."

"Greetings, Inquisitor Chaucer," Rolf responded mechanically, making a stiff bow. "I welcome you and your companions to my ship. It is nice to see Amelia again," he said, nodding to the black mage, "however, I don't believe I've been introduced to your new moogle friend."

"Ah, yesss, thissssss young moogle here isss quite a lucky find on our part. He'sss an exsstremely ssskilled juggler." On hearing this, Isaac caught a look of concern passing between Clay and Foobar. "However, I underssstand that you as well have a new moogle on your crew. Where isssss he?"

Rolf gazed over at Isaac and nodded. Isaac approached Chaucer, and bowed to the defender. "Inquisitor."

"Please, rissssse," the bangaa ordered him. Isaac did so, and the tall bangaa began circling him slowly. "You sssseem like a fine young lad. What'ssss your name?"

"Isaac, sir."

"Hmm…" Chaucer thought for a moment, then leaned in next to Isaac's ear. "We could usssse people like you in the palacccce'ssss military. There'sss more money, better chancccessss, glory, power. Not to mention," he said, gazing over at Rolf, "better company. What do you think?"

Keeping his voice even, and his face as straight as possible with Chaucer's hot breath going down his neck, Isaac said back, "I'm sorry sir, but this is my crew, and this is the life I've chosen. I appreciate the offer, but I must decline."

The defender then turned to Rolf and said, in a very short way, "Tell me Rolf, do you know anything about the moogle whom you have reccccently inducted into your crew."

"Very little, actually," Rolf said, an uneasy look on his face. "However, he doesn't complain, and he works hard. That is all I require on my ship."

"Well, we happen to know that the fugitive we are ssssearching for was sssssighted with a moogle." He said the word 'moogle' like an accusation. "Unfortunately, we feel we musssst arressst those who have reassssonable sssssuspicion of being ssssaid moogle."

"Who, Isaac?" Rolf asked.

"Precisssssely. I'm afraid he'll have to come with ussssss." With that, before Isaac could even react, the large lizard reached down and grabbed the young moogle around the neck, hoisting him up. Isaac kicked at the hand weakly, but it didn't do anything. The hand was tight on his throat, and it was becoming difficult to breathe…

"I apologize, Inquisitor, but I'm going to ask you to drop of my crewmember," Rolf demanded, his voice suggesting unpleasantries should the bangaa refuse.

Chaucer began walking towards the ladder, saying, "Come, that issss all, thank you, Ro—"

_Shing!_

The bangaa was interrupted by Rolf drawing his sword and placing its blade across his neck. His dark eyes set and unwavering, Rolf said, barely above a whisper, "Drop my crew member."

Chaucer looked at him, a smug look on his face, and tightened his grip, eliciting a slight gurgle from Isaac. "Why, Rolf, you wouldn't…"

"Don't test me," Rolf said, his stony face cold.

"You realisssse that you'll be hunted down and dessstroyed for thisssssssss."

"You don't seem to know how many people will favour me for disobeying you, and frankly, I can live with a price on my head." Isaac managed to cough slightly, getting a bit of his expended air out, but he just couldn't breathe… "Drop my crew member."

Chaucer dropped him. As Isaac hit the wood beneath him, he gasped, trying to get as much air into his empty lungs as possible. Tifone quickly stepped forward and pulled Isaac back from the two leaders, standing off before the crews. For a few moments, the only sound that was made was Isaac, gasping and choking to get air.

"Get off my ship."

Chaucer looked over at Amelia and the moogle, and nodded, then began making his way back to the ladder. The two went as well, with Amelia before Chaucer and the juggler behind, going along quietly. Rolf waited until all of them were on the ladder before he sheathed his blade, and began turning back to his crew.

"Prepare to start the ship. We need to get mov- uh!"

Rolf fell forward, crying out in pain. As he hit the ground, it was easy to see the moogle, an insane grin on his little painted face, and his arm held just below his waist, in a position which suggested he'd just thrown the knife which was currently embedded in Rolf's back.

Nobody moved for a moment. Well, nobody but Clay who, on instinct it seemed, reached down to the pouch on his sash, and drew a card, throwing it into the air. "I declare an engagement!" he yelled over the deafening silence.

The judge point disappeared, and then a judge appeared on their own deck. He lifted a hand up into the air, and called out, "Begin!"

The crew of the _Torrent _acted quickly. Tifone and Foobar pulled out their swords, taking synchronous steps forward. Isaac and Clay drew already loaded guns. Eugene held up both hands, letting his staff fall to the ground, and a white light began gathering around him.

However, they were nowhere near as quick as the small juggler, who instantly launched himself off the edge of the ladder, diving until he grabbed the railing of the ship, and hopped over it right next to where Isaac and Clay were standing. As he came over the railing he kicked Isaac in the face with both feet, knocking him down, throwing one knife through the neck of Isaac's cloak, not hurting him but pinning him to the floor, and another three knives towards Clay. Clay snapped every single muscle in his body and dived to the left, two of the knives missing him completely and one catching his cloak. He hit the ground and rolled back to his feet, meaning to take a few shots at the juggler before he got away. However, the juggler was already gone and moving, so Clay simply got ready to dodge.

With that, the battle was properly engaged, and Chaucer let loose a battle cry. He rushed forward, the broadsword already clamped between his hands. He came off of the ladder swinging, directly at Tifone and Foobar.

The two trained warriors reacted in manners they had each practised many times before. Foobar ducked the sword violently, feeling the wind whistling over his head. Tifone, on her part, knew that she couldn't dodge, so instead she worked her light rapier in a fast and complicated manoeuvre, sending it under the broadsword until her hilt hit his blade, and punched upwards, sending the broadsword harmlessly high for the moment.

Seeing his enemy off balance, Foobar took an opportunity to slash at the defender's exposed side. Chaucer, however, had been counting on the attack, and retaliated by simply kicking out as hard as he could with his left foot. The foot, being about half the size as Foobar, hit the small knight under the chin and launched him into a short flight to the opposite rail of the ship.

Having regained his balance, Chaucer reversed his upper hand's grip on the long hilt, and brought the broadsword across at Tifone again. She managed to step back out of the way, easily, but then she had to pull off a very complex series of dodges and counters, as Chaucer came forward with a fast and brutal charge.

Suddenly, all activity on the ship stopped for a moment, as there came a roar and an immensely bright light from the ladder. The six on deck turned to stare at the two nu mou mages. Amelia was still on the ladder, pointing her rod at Eugene, who stood at the edge of the ladder, still on the ship. From Amelia's rod was jetting out streams of sparks and lightning bolts. Eugene was hunched forward, holding both hands up before him. Between his two open palms there was a clearly visible barrier of white light. As the bolts slammed into the barrier, they ricocheted off of its surface, flying everywhere. Both nu mous had their eyes shut tightly, and neither was moving as the magical assaults and defences continued on.

Clay brought his attention back to his own battle, and not a moment too soon. He threw himself backwards, pulling a full backflip and landing just as the last of five daggers thumped into the wood below him. Clay brought his attention up, to see that maniacally grinning painted face, and three knives gleamingin each of the monstrosity's hands. He brought his favourite sniping gun up so that it pointed at the face, and quickly pulled the trigger. His shot flew hard and fast, slapping into the wood where the juggler's face had been just before. Swearing, Clay drew out another bullet from his belt and shoved it into his gun, cocking as he ran. He turned, searching for another shot at the insane little juggler.

The juggler, however, had already found another shot at him. He pumped his arm furiously, and suddenly Clay felt a ringing pain in his wrist as the gun was knocked from his hand by a knife. Now totally unarmed, Clay ran backwards as fast as he could, keeping away from the knives. He cast around for an exit, anything…

His back touched against the wooden wall of the poop deck. He looked up, and saw that face, still smiling, and then the three knives flying directly at him.

Clay threw himself to the side, and, as he knew it would, a knife stabbed through the muscle of his shoulder, decimated the bone, and stuck into wood after it. Clay's momentum stopped dead as his arm pulled him back, and he screamed as a little more flesh was cut through.

Panting, Clay looked up at the evil little monster. It stood there, smirking, as always, and deliberately dropped a knife from one of his sleeves down to his gloved hand. He took aim, pulled his arm back…

_Kaching!_

The juggler threw himself back, and watched as the pellet from Isaac's gun smacked the ground, then whirled around to face him. Isaac had already reloaded, and had drawn his blade. There was a moment of silence as the two faced each other, and then the juggler smiled ever wider, let out an insane howl, and jumped at him, knives leading.

Tifone worked her sword furiously, whipping it around in circles and rapidly stopping it to stab forward. But nothing worked. She kept giving up more and more space to the enraged bangaa, and she had no way to stop him. The routines he was doing seemed impossible, what with their speed and accuracy and the weight of his weapon. But then again, you had to have something special about you to become an inquisitor…

Tifone pulled one last extremely complicated routine, making several quick-steps backwards at a time. She ducked under another slash, taking steps back, and turning to make sure that she didn't get backed up to a wall. As she turned, she checked the positions of her fellows. Eugene was still holding Amelia at bay, now repelling a gout of flames which spread across the white barrier he held. Both Amelia and Eugene had taken several steps back, but each still looked untroubled and pristine in the same formations. As she jumped over the broadsword and doing a pre-emptive duck in the air for the higher cut which was definitely coming. As she did so, she checked over at Isaac and Clay, wincing as she saw her small friend pinned to the wall by his shoulder. He was pale and shuddering, but seemed otherwise fine. She also saw Isaac, in the same position Clay had been in earlier, dodging and shooting, moving as fast as possible. It didn't look like they'd be able to beat that damn juggler until they could gang up on him or get Eugene back into the battle.

It was at that moment that Foobar came back into the fight. He rushed in, and Tifone noticed that instead of his shield he held Isaac's discarded cloak in his left hand. Jumping up behind the bangaa, he wrapped the cloak around his eyes, pulling it as tight as possible. Chaucer instantly began flailing in rage, throwing punches and biting at the two of them. Tifone instantly took the chance to take a few lunges in at Chaucer, as Foobar simply held on for dear life to the cloak ends, trying not to be knocked away or killed.

Suddenly, with one massive bestial roar, the defender drove both elbows back violently, slamming them into Foobar's ribs. Foobar cried out, letting go and dropping into a pained crouch. Chaucer ripped off the cloak, letting it fall to the ground, and clenched his fists, ready to kill anyone who got too close. He glanced around, at Tifone standing ready and in stance with her rapier pointed at him, at Foobar holding his blade steady while still holding his ribs with the other arm. He'd dropped his broadsword in his thrashes with the cloak. Shrugging, he simply raised one fist into the air, and, with another roar, brought it crashing down to the deck. As his fist hit, the wood of the deck shuddered, and swept outwards in a strange sort of wave. It hit both Foobar and Tifone squarely, knocking them backwards and to the ground. Grinning, Chaucer picked up his heavy broadsword, and began walking towards the moogle's prone figure.

_Come on, Eugene, come on! _the nu mou mentallyscreamed to himself. It was taking every single bit of self control to keep chanting the words to his spells, and to keep feeding them enough energy so as not to run out of energy or let any flames through, and mainly to remain ever vigilant to her chanting should it change to an ice or energy spell. He and Amelia had met each other many times before, just as Rolf and Chaucer had. What Foobar had said about he and the captain being old partners was true, though it didn't even come close to the truth. The two had, almost ten years earlier, been participants in a great competition combining wizardry and swordplay. The greatest in the land participated, and legends were born as quartets faced off against quartets. Over a thousand teams had entered the great tournament. The team of Rolf, a great sword wielder and illusionist, Chaucer, a purely physical warrior filled with berserk energy, Eugene, a much heralded healer and master of time, and Amelia, mistress of the elemental energies, known as the Torrential Flames, came in third overall. Afterwards, things hadn't gone as they'd planned with their prize money, with Chaucer and Amelia wanting more for their direct damage, saying that Eugene and Rolf were simply support. In the end, the money was divided evenly, and the two duets went their separate ways.

For a moment, Eugene opened his eyes, and stared into the yellow orbs glowing beneath Amelia's tall hat. There was a determined smugness in them, it seemed. Suddenly, in his mind, Eugene heard a voice traveling through their magics, speaking to him. _Today we see who was truly the greater mage._

_No, _Eugene responded, gritting his teeth as he blocked her mind off from his, _today we see what support can do._

"Duck, little gunner!"

Isaac obeyed the juggler as he swung by overhead by a line. He didn't even have time to get a shot off like this! It was ridiculous! As the juggler came by like a pendulum again, Isaac took his opportunity. He popped up, aiming his gun, and firing.

He missed. Unfortunately, he didn't have the time to duck back down, and the moogle swung by overhead, sliding a dagger under Isaac's ammunition belt. It slipped down to the ground, all of the bullets sliding out from their sockets, spraying across the floor. The juggler went by, sticking a tongue out at Isaac as he passed.

"_Famfhrit!_" Isaac swore. He hated using his blade. Sure, he was pretty good with it, but no where near as good as he was with his gun. However, since he didn't have much of an option as it was, he dropped his gun, not bothering to holster it, and drew his blade. He got into a position which gave him the best mobility, and prepared to cut at his foe as he passed. The juggler passed, a dagger stabbing down at Isaac's face. On instinct, Isaac reached out and caught the wrist, forcing the dagger out of the way. Turning with the swinging juggler, Isaac whipped out his sword in three quick movements, severing the rope.

Isaac let go of the wrist, and the juggler hit the ground hard, yet still managed to roll in a graceful manner back up to his feet. He spun around to face Isaac, and (surprise) smirked. He reached up to the knives in his sleeves, and then noticed something. The second and third cuts Isaac had made had slashed through his sleeves, and thus most of his knives had fallen out. He sighed, looking up at Isaac in an annoyed manner.

"That wasn't nice. You made me lose my ammo, kupo."

"So did you, kupo," Isaac said, gesturing his head toward the bullets around the deck.

"Well, in that case, kupo," the juggler sighed, and reached to the leather sheaths attached tightly to each wrist, drawing the slightly longer and more curvedknives from them. Without further warning, he threw himself all out at Isaac, sending at least ten slashes and stabs at Isaac from different directions. Isaac managed to block a few of them, but then fell back, blood dripping from several fresh shallow injuries. He stared up at the juggler, hate and rage clear in his eyes.

"Who are you?" he screamed.

"Let's have some fun, small fry."

Suddenly, Isaac noticed that the other moogle, while still short for a moogle, was about an inch taller than him. And then, Isaac knew who he was fighting.

Thomas threw himself forward, and Isaac responded, totally ready this time.

Foobar actually managed to get to his feet, which was quite a feat, what with his broken ribs and bruised body. But then, Chaucer rushed him, hit his sword five times, sending it sliding across the deck, and ran him through with a sword about as thick as Foobar himself was.

Smirking and wiping the moogle blood off of his broadsword, he turned back to the vierra, hoping that she would be as fun as muchFoobar was.

He approached her prone form. Seeing that she was unconscious, he felt a sense of disappointment rushing through him. Darn. It was so fun when they struggled. Sighing, he stepped forward anyways, preparing to run her through as he'd done Foobar.

"Stop right there, Chaucer."

Chaucer looked over his shoulder to see Rolf, actually standing with a pained expression on his face and a sharp blade in his hand. Despite the obvious agony it was putting him through, he held the blade steady, ready for Chaucer.

"Oh, you mussst be joking," Chaucer laughed.

Just to show how serious he was, Rolf swung his sword in the manner he always used, in a very stiff and fast movement. The air, in an almost solid block, flew at Chaucer, hitting him in the face and knocking him off his kilter for a moment. ThenRolf lunged at his foe while he was off his balance, the pained expression falling from his face.

Chaucer met the charge, and the two began dancing around the ship. It was truly an unbelievable battle, each sword ringing and flashing in the sun, unobscured by the storm clouds below the ships. Chaucer was at his match, and yet, he could tell something about Rolf. The captain was moving in a slightly jerky and irregular fashion. Apparently, the knife in his back was causing him more pain than he was revealing. Smirking, he realised that all he had to do was wait for him to bleed out. So it was just a waiting game then…

"It'll take more than that, kupo!" Thomas yelled. As Isaac parried the first stab, he brought his second dagger forward in another direct attack. Isaac pivoted his sword on the first dagger to parry the second, and for a moment they were at a stalemate. Then, in an attack which must have required astounding back strength, Thomas lifted himself up by those daggers and kicked Isaac in the face again.

Isaac rolled away with the impact, coming back up to his feet. He was hoping for a minute to catch his breath before Thomas came at him again, but no such luck. The relentless juggler lunged at him, both daggers stabbing, and Isaac had to work his blade furiously in a routine Tifone had once shown him. Surprisingly, it worked, and he managed to block almost every attack, and dodge the rest. Then, with his opponent off-balance, he whipped his sword vertically at the daggers.

Thom caught the blade between his daggers. Isaac quickly twirled his blade in an attempt to knock one away, and was awarded by feeling the pressure give way as Thom released the small weapon, letting it fly into the air. Filled with new confidence, Isaac attacked forward again.

Thom, however, was already out of the way, doing several consecutive back flips. As he landed the last one, probably about ten feet back, he simply held up his empty left hand to the air.

The dagger landed in it.

"_Famfrit!_" Isaac swore, and charged forward again before Thom got the chance to do so himself.

They were both tired, almost used up. Neither could afford a single slip in mental fortitude, or it would be the end. Even though his eyes were scrunched shut, Eugene could feel Amelia's eyes boring into him, their unusually tainted colour boring into him, begging him to slip.

_Strange, _he thought to himself. _She's only been using fire and electricity so far. Is she saving up her ice spells, or is it possible that…_

It came together in an instant to Eugene. She'd never used the ice-type spells in the tournament… and she wasn't using them right now… she didn't know any. She had put so much faith into fire and electricity, that she hadn't even put a single thought into her ice spells.

Smirking at his good luck, Eugene realised that he now had a fifty percent chance of winning. He was wearing a special cloak, one which could be, at any time and only once, be changed into a cloak which absorbed either fire, ice or electricity. If he could guess what type of spell her next one would be as she began casting it, he could change his cloak quickly to the appropriate spell, then go on the offensive. Gritting his teeth, he waited…

Amelia stopped to take a breath. Without even stopping to think, Eugene laid a hand upon his cloak and cried out, "_Elektrischa!_"

Amelia had already begun speaking her spell as Eugene finished his declaration. A panicked look crossed her yellow eyes as she finished it, watching Eugene's cloak turning into a bright yellow colour.

Electricity snaked from Amelia's fingers, bolting out and smashing into Eugene's face. It all quickly ran down and dissipated into his cloak, and energy flowed into Eugene's tired frame.

Smirking, Eugene took an easy step forward through the rush of blinding lightning.

"Well, Amelia, you're good," he said. "But you're still just support for the big boys like me and Rolf."

With that, he kicked the edge of the ladder off of _The Torrent_, making it and Amelia fall far, far down to the earth below.

Turning, Eugene flexed his fingers, accessing his other realm of magic. And now, it was time to end the battle.

Rolf's breathing was haggard, and his movements were constantly slowing. However, he just refused to fall or give way. Chaucer rushed him again and again, but Rolf always managed to beat him back, and occasionally score a little cut.

In one break in the action, Chaucer stopped to laugh for a moment. "Defiant to the last, aren't you?"

With that, he held up a hand, preparing to channel some of his own life energy into a last climactic blow. He hated using this technique, but meh, it worked.

"And now you fall, old friend."

"_Stop requiria zeite!"_

Chaucer suddenly stopped moving. He couldn't even move his eyes. Rolf approached him, and stared over atEugene, standing there with his staff pointed at the defender.

"Well timed."

"Thanks."

"Where's Amelia?"

"About two hundred metres below us."

"Alright."

Then, without a second thought, Rolf whipped his sword out, dragging it along the defender's throat, grabbing the hilt with his second hand, twirling so that he was behind the bangaa, and stabbed it through Chaucer from behind. Just to make sure, Rolf gave a few more slashes and stabs to Chaucer's front before stepping away.

"That was a bit brutal, don't you think?" Eugene asked.

"After what he just did to Foobar, I think that that was pretty mild."

"Right, so, maybe we should go and help out Isaac with that juggler?"

"Yeah, you go and do that, I'll get Clay and… and…" Rolf staggered.

"Are you alright?" Eugene asked, instantly concerned for his old friend. "I can heal you."

"No, don't waste your magical power. Isaac and Clay will need that."

"Fine. Go and get Clay."

Isaac was, to say the least, surprised and thankful when Thomas stopped moving at such a breakneck speed toward his exposedneck with both knives. He found he had plenty of time to step out of the way of the moogle as he sailed through the air.

"Kupo."

"Tell me about it," Eugene muttered as he walked up. They were quiet as they stood there for a moment. "So, are you going to finish this guy, or would you rather just watch him?"

"What?" Isaac asked, shocked. "While he's all helpless like this?"

"It's an engagement, he'll be revived."

"Yeah, but my conscience is more important, kupo."

"Fine, suit yourself. You grab his feet, I'll grab his arms. We'll just take him over to the edge and throw him onto his ship again."

The two grabbed him, and did just that. However, Isaac first left a small note in Thomas's pocket, which read,

_Thom,_

_Well, it seems as though things don't change that much with a change of race. If you're going to continue pursuing me, I won't be as kind next time. So good luck with whatever endeavours, legal or not, moral or not, you choose to pursue. I'll see you around, kupo._

_Isaac._

With that, Eugene cast another spell of slowness on the small moogle, and they threw him as hard as they could, watching as he progressed about a metre every ten seconds. The two then approached Foobar's still and mutilated form, waiting for the judge.

As soon as Thom's form hit the deck of _the_ _Flame_, the judge suddenly made a piercing whistling noise. He held up his hand, and yelled, "The victory goes to the crew of _The Torrent_!" The judge went through his normal routine. After he mentioned the healing part, a bright light gathered around Foobar, and his grievous wound sealed up. His eyes flickered open and he groaned, standing up next to Isaac, who was basking in the feeling of having his many small cuts and punctures dealt with.

"I'm assuming that we won, kupo?" the mog knight asked.

"Thanks to me," Eugene muttered, pausing a moment to catch his judge point. He watched as Chaucer disappeared with the judge's magic, no doubt reappearing on _The Flame_. "Well, who else thought that that was close?"

"Way too close," Tifone muttered, rubbing a hand through her beautiful silver hair. "I hate fighting people who defy the usual bounds of a warrior."

"Tell me about it, kupo," Isaac and Foobar said as one.

"Kupokupo!" Clay yelled over from the poop deck, where the dagger had fallen from his healed shoulder. "Eugene, get over here!"

As the judge disappeared, the other four ran over to Clay's side. He was struggling to hold up the much larger captain who seemed unable to carry his own weight.

"What's wrong?" Eugene demanded as they approached.

"The knife wound in his back never healed, kupo! He just collapsed!"

Rolling him over, Eugene looked at the ugly knife wound.

"Why didn't it heal?" Tifone asked.

"It occurred before the battle. It's outside of the judge's jurisdiction."

"So what does that mean?"

"It means he's going to need Mateus's favour and I'm going to need Ultima's blessings to get him through."

"But can't you just heal him up, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"I explained it to you when I healed you, Isaac!" Eugene told him. "White magic is less effective out of magic. A successful Life spell his completely unheard of outside of a fight. This is going to take everything I've got, and quite likely everything he's got."

"Great," Tifone muttered. "Anything else?"

"Yes, kupo," Clay answered for Eugene. "There's a huge storm coming tonight and we'll be arrested if we try to land in Baguba, kupo."

There was silence for a good ten seconds. Finally, Eugene said, "Alright. Foobar, Tifone, help me get Rolf down to his bed. Then, I want Tifone with me while I try to heal him. She's got minor skill with dealing with patients, and I'll need someone to get my ethers whenever I run out of energy. Foobar and Isaac, you three are going to be up here, with Clay working the machines below overtime seeing as he's the best mechanic. We'll have to either get to Barda Port (it's the next closest port and quite small, so the judges won't look there for a while) before nightfall, or kill all sails as the storm hits and get back down." He looked around at the four others, and sighed. "May the Totema be with us. We're going to need them."

Isaac and Clay watched as Tifone, Foobar and Eugene disappeared into the bowels of the ship with the captain strung between them. Clay looked over at Isaac. "I know it sounds stupid, but no matter what happens, kupo, it's been an honour."

"Thanks for everything you and Foobar have taught me. I'm sorry I couldn't be a more kupo student."

Clay smirked. "You've been one of the best I've had, kupo."

With that, the two of them got to tightening the sails and turning the ship to the East, beginning a desperate battle against time.


	9. Thunderstorm

"Hold 'er steady, Isaac!" Foobar cried. "Come on, kupo, we can totally handle this!"

The small problem with what he said was that, from Isaac's position, it appeared that they could totally _not_ handle this. The ship was bucking and swerving erratically as the two moogles clung desperately to the wheel. If the current wind held, then they would probably be able to reach Barda. But that was _if_. Theodds of something actually going right for them seemed, at present, to be slim to none.

When they'd first begun their desperate journey, it had seemed as though they would make it easily. There was a strong wind pulling them on, and the machines were behaving well for Clay. At one point, Eugene had actually sent Tifone up to help with the work on deck, and Isaac could go and help out Clay with the machines.

However, soon after that, things had taken a turn for the worse. First of all, some of the turbulent winds coming from the storm had begun reaching them, so the ship began bumping and jumping in the roughness. Eugene needed Tifone at that point to help with keeping the captain from being affected by the rocking. Because of this, Isaac had to come back on deck to do the other half of the necessary work. Due to this, Clay had to start shutting machines off, or risk an accident. Currently, the wind was getting extremely strong, strong enough to make it hurt whenever a loose strand of fur whipped Isaac's eyes, and there was starting to be a spattering of rain.

At the moment, the wind was the only thing keeping them going, seeing as Clay was simply concentrating on keeping them in the air, and not bothering with the propulsion engines. Isaac and Foobar couldn't even tighten the sails to take full advantage of the winds they were so focused on staying their course.

"What are we going to do if the storm starts getting _really _bad, kupo?" Isaac yelled.

"We'll have to find some way to get down to the ground!"

"Can we do that without a port, kupo?"

"It's difficult, but if I'm right, kupo, we're over the Delia Dunes right now, and we'll just be able to get it in the sand."

Isaac shook his head. Things weren't looking good. Not that he doubted the crew's skill. They'd be able to land the ship almost anywhere without too much trouble. The trick was making sure that Rolf survived whatever aerial acrobatics they preformed.

The wind howled suddenly, reaching a massive crescendo as the rain, which had up until then been simply a few drops here and there, dropped in a torrent.

"We need to get her down!" Foobar screamed, and Isaac could barely hear him. "We don't really have to tell Clay, kupo, just let the sails loosen a bit at a time until we start dipping. Then we should be able to come down onto the sand without any trouble!"

Lightning flashed across the sky, and everything was illuminated in perfect brightness for a few clear moments. In those moments, Isaac and Clay could see something which they'd both missed in the darkness of the clouds moments earlier.

They were above a massive, seemingly endless forest, without a clearing to be seen for miles.

"Foobar!" Isaac yelled, pausing for the thunder clap. "We're not over the dunes, are we?"

"Definitely not, kupo!" Foobar responded, fear evident on his face.

"Then where the kupo are we?"

"We must have gone off course slightly, kupo. This is the Koringwood."

"Is that bad?"

"Well, we can still make the same time, kupo, but there's no way we'll be able to land now."

Isaac gritted his teeth. "Great, kupo."

Another flash of lightning ripped through the sky, and Foobar yelled something at Isaac which he didn't hear. He tried again just as the thunder rang out, then gave up and simply gestured with his head to the left. Isaac, understanding, heaved on the wheel with all his might, pushing as Foobar pulled. All of his muscles burned, but they managed to force it to the left, heading in a direction Isaac assumed was west.

Once they'd accomplished this, Foobar leaned over by Isaac's ear and yelled so that he could hear, "Can you hold it alone for a second, kupopo?"

"Yes, but for just _a _second, kupo," Isaac confirmed.

"Good. We need to free up some ofthe tension, so I'm going to use my blade as a lock. Are you ready, kupo?"

"Just a second," Isaac yelled. Quickly, Isaac shoved an arm around a nearby pole, and then grabbed onto the wheel again, turning his arm into a makeshift wedge. Then Isaac nodded at Foobar and braced himself.

Foobar released his grip on the wheel. Instantly, Isaac's every fibre exploded with agony, screaming against the brutal treatment they were receiving. Isaac bent himself backwards in a silent scream, holding on for everything he was worth. He writhed back and forth, shaking and hoping to keep himself from being ripped to pieces.He couldn't do it, he couldn't do it…

Foobar plunged his blade through the wood with both fists, and quickly grabbed onto Isaac's end of the wheel. He looked over at the other moogle, and asked, "Are you okay, kupo?"

"Fine," Isaac gasped, not even managing to get out the kupo he'd been intending to say.

"Sorry, kupo. It had to be done!"

"So what do we do now, kupo?" Isaac asked, shaking the rainwater and sweat from his headfur.

"All we have to do is hold out until the storm ends, kupo."

"Oh, is that all?" Isaac asked, hoping that Foobar would pick up on his sarcasm.

"Hey, I never said it'd be easy, kupo. Just try to get comfortable and start praying that something else doesn't happe—"

And, of course, at that moment, something happened. A lightning bolt arched down, slamming into the lead mast's base. Instantly, fire erupted from that part of the ship. With the impact, the ship bucked and jumped much more violently than it had been doing before.

As the ship went up, Foobar, on reflex from spending many years on the ship, tightened his grip around the wheel so that he simply bounced. Isaac, on the other hand, was thrown high into the air, flying several metres and only being stopped by the banister's hard surface. He fell to the ground, but that was probably the best thing, seeing as standing up without any support would have been suicidal. He slowly crawled forward to where Foobar was still standing.

"Are you alright, kupo?" Foobar asked.

"I'm good, kupo. You?"

"I'd be feeling better if that mast wasn't on fire, kupo," Foobar told him. "Did Clay teach you how to do an iceshot?"

"Yes, kupo," Isaac told him. "Here, kupo, just give me a minute, kupo."

"You're nervous."

"How would you know, kupo?"

"You said 'kupo' three times in that sentence. You haven't had to do an iceshot outside of practise yet, have you, kupo?"

"No, kupo, but I'll manage, kupo," Isaac told him, wincing at the second kupo.

Without waiting, Isaac spun around and drew his gun, squinting as he stared into the flames. Focusing, he sent all of the coldness in both his body and his soul down into his small hand, and, using all his mental strength, forced it into the gun. He pulled the trigger.

"Nice shot, kupo," Foobar said appreciatively. The licking flames had all stopped moving, and were now razor-sharp shards of ice. It looked just like a sculpture made by some great artist.

"I guess so, ku—" Isaac was stopped by a very loud and ominous groaning which came from the flames. As they stared, the frozen flames showed several cracks, and the mast began swaying slowly.

"Oh Famfrit," Foobar muttered. "That can't be good, kupo."

At that moment, the mast split, breaking off from its base with a terrible groaning and crack. The wood remained there for a moment, suspended in the air, and then it fell, smashing into the deck with enough force to leave a large hole. The mast itself began rolling off of the deck to the left, towards the ground below. However, its descent was slowed dramatically, but not stopped, when the support lines for the sails went taut.

For one terrifying moment, everything was fine. A moment later, the entire ship was yanked to the left, turning on a violent tilt. Isaac screamed as he fell back, stopped once again by the banister, while Foobar remained clutching the wheel.

On the instant, Isaac jumped up and took in the situation. If they didn't find some way to disconnect the mast, they would all die, and if he didn't do it fast, the captain would die.

Isaac looked up at Foobar. "I'm going for it, kupo."

Before the mog knight could argue, Isaac took a step forward. He cried out and stumbled as he felt his twisted ankle. Shaking it off, the young moogle started running along the banister, ignoring the pain. As he went, he quickly realised that he would have to do the top line first, seeing as the bottom line would flail like crazy when he cut it, and it would make it all the more difficult to climb to the top rope.

As soon as he reached the end of the poop deck, Isaac grabbed the banister which divided it from the rest of the deck, and climbed it like a ladder. He had to pause several times to shield his eyes from the rain and to brace while the ship rocked even more dangerously. When he made it to the top, he decided to run out on top of the banister instead of monkey-bar climbing from down below. He needed speed, not safety.

He went along, as quickly as he could without slipping off into oblivion. His foot fell through the spaces in the banister more than once, but that didn't slow him down.

Soon, he found himself standing one metre above the top line. Being careful not to lose his balance, Isaac pulled his gun out of its holder. Taking careful aim, he pulled the trigger. And he missed. Growling, he pulled out another bullet and tried again. Once again, he missed. He tried one last time, and then put his gun away. There was only one option, then.

Slowly, with a scraping noise, Isaac drew his blade. He looked over at Foobar. Foobar's eyes met his, and the mog knight shook his head, as if to say, "Don't even think about it."

Isaac jumped off of the edge of the banister, his blade totally ready. Manoeuvring his wings just a bit, he slashed through the first rope. Then he let himself freefall, waiting until he was two metres above the lower line. Isaac grabbed onto this one, but didn't cut it.

First, he looked around trying to find another way. There was none. The wind was way too strong for him to even consider flying the distance, and it was definitely too far to jump.

He glanced over at Foobar and shrugged. He released his grip on the rope, and brought his blade across extremely fast.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Foobar looked away as Isaac fell, closing his eyes and holding tightly to the wheel as they were rocked back into position. He held the wheel on track for the rest of the night, fighting through exhaustion and grief until morning.

As dawn struck, he could actually see the sun, and that was a good thing. It appeared as though the storm was dying down. His grip on the wheel was loosening due to his lack of sleep, but that didn't matter. He could hold it until Eugene or Tifone came to take over for him.

Roughly an hour later, Tifone walked up to the deck. She gazed around at the wreckage caused by their lost mast, and then over at Foobar, who lay slumped against the wheel. She approached him.

"Foobar," she asked. "Hey, Foobar, wake up, the storm's over."

He shuddered, and opened his eyes. "We didn't go down, kupo?"

"Yes," she said, smiling with relief. "We're all still alive, including the captain."

Foobar, however, shook his head. "We're not all still alive, though, kupo."

"What do you mean?" Tifone asked, her eyes now filled with concern.

"During the storm, kupo, the mast, it…" he stopped for a moment, then continued. "So Isaac, he ran over, and he…" he had to stop. "He fell."

Tifone kept the silence with him for a minute. Finally, she said, her voice monotone and suddenly tired, "Eugene says we're going to be docking now. Then we can rest in Barda for a while. You should go down and help Clay with the machines. I'll take the wheel. Eugene has already alerted the landing crews that we're coming."

Foobar started for the stairs slowly, but was stopped by Tifone's voice. "You did a good job. Don't blame yourself for what had to be done."

"He shouldn't have been the one to do it," was all that Foobar could respond with before descending the staircase.

Tifone looked out at the massive ocean of green which was now behind them. Somewhere out there was Isaac's body. Wasn't this the place that they'd originally found him falling from the sky? She smirked slightly. Maybe he was just fated to finish that fall.

Tifone turned her face to the sun, and the small port which was coming up before them, preparing for another landing.


	10. The Morning After

When Isaac awoke, he was quite shocked to find that, according to all the pain receptors in his head, his head had just exploded, the fragments had been thrown into a blender, the blender dropped into a fire, and the fire filled with piranhas. There was no other explanation for the obscene amount of agony crashing through every thought he tried to conjure up. He tried to open his eyes, but found that that was far too much a bother for him to do at the moment.

_In the name of Famfrit, _he thought-moaned, _what were they serving in the pub last night?_

Finally, he managed to open his left eye. He was extremely surprised to find that, strangely, the ceiling wasn't that of the airship machine room or his usual room at the _Winged Saloon, _his normal crawl in Baguba. He closed his eye, now slightly annoyed. _I had just gotten used to sleeping in the hammock, too._

Slowly, as he finally pulled himself up into a sitting position, he managed to open his eyes. What he saw made him wish he hadn't sat up. Curled up across from him was a huge red hunting cat of some sort. Its fur was long and luxurious, its eyes focused and intense, its teeth sharp and prepared to rip through skin and bone. It was looking directly at him, with a strange sort of dangerous understanding in the eyes. Isaac quickly identified it as a panther, creatures spoken of in tales of battles in the deserts by drunken warriors in the pubs. Strong, fast, and wily.

"Oh man, kupo," Isaac groaned. "Good kitty, good kitty..."

The cat growled at him, and bared its teeth.

"Okay, okay, whatever kupo," Isaac told it. "Just don't hurt me."

He gazed around at the rest of the area he was in. It was a strange hollow, with an earthy floor and walls, and an extremely strange ceiling. It looked like a bunch wooden tentacles, all reaching down and then disappearing into the ground. The entire, rather large space was lit by the same kind of glowing orb which Clay and Foobar used in the machine room. As far as furnishings went, there were none, but for a small table in the corner, on which was his gun, his blade, the belt of ammunition he'd been wearing, and…

"Potion!" Isaac yelled with glee. He tried to hop up and run over to the table, but suddenly found a rather painful explosion in his chest stopping him from doing so. Isaac groaned and fell back onto his back, rolling over to his chest so that there wouldn't be pressure on his head.

The panther, noticing this, stepped up, and approached him. It bent its head over his prostrate form, and then licked the large blood clot on his head once or twice. Isaac flinched whenever it did, but didn't dare move; who knew how it would react?

A moment later the cat padded away to the table, took the bottle of potion in its teeth, and brought it over to him. It softly dropped the green liquid down next to Isaac's face.

"Er, thanks, kupo," Isaac said, looking up into those intent eyes. It was definitely something he hadn't been expecting, but one look at the beautiful liquid so close to his hands, and Isaac had to say he wasn't going to frown at the strange occurrence. He grabbed the bottle and pulled out its stopper, greedily guzzling the potion down.

The potion actually turned out to be a hi-potion. As the silky, warm fluid drained down his throat, the horrible throbbing in his head died down and disappeared. He loved the feeling of a potion. They tasted so much better than that bitter taste all those webcomics always described. Whatever, you couldn't expect someone to understand something they'd never experienced.

Turning these thoughts aside, Isaac looked over at the panther. "Thanks for the help, kupo. For curiosity, where did you get that potion? And the table, for that matter, kupo."

In response, the panther simply gave him a strange look and then began leaving the small area.

"Hey, wait up, kupo!" Isaac called after it, pausing to grab his equipment. He jogged out the door after it. He looked around, and found that the place that he had been in was a giant hollow under a massive tree. The massive tree was one of many gigantic trees dispersed around the forest. They all went up, on and on forever it seemed. From high above came the sounds of birds calling and crying out. Seeing how high the trees were, Isaac gulped. _I wouldn't be able to survive a fall from the top of those trees, let alone a fall from kilometres above. How am I still breathing?_

Figuring that it was his best chance towards getting his answers, Isaac ran after the panther, its red shape easy to follow in the brown trunks and green foliage which filled the area. The earth on which he stepped was soft and spongy, with quite a bit of moss covering it. The air itself was hazy and filled with moisture, so that even as Isaac ran he found his clothes and fur becoming very damp. However, seeing as the panther was keeping up a furious pace, Isaac didn't stop to try and dry off or anything.

Soon, they came to the edge of a large clearing, which was ringed by powerful old trees. Isaac didn't know why, but there seemed to be something… something special about it. Something alluring, and wonderful, so attractive that Isaac began taking a step into the open area.

The panther reached across with a large paw and batted him in the front. The force of the blow knocked Isaac backwards onto his rump, where he sat gasping for breath for a moment.

"Ouch, kupo, what'd you do that for?" Isaac asked. He got up and looked back at the clearing, but the spell was broken. Now there was simply a sinister feel to the air. "Oh, was I just under a magic…"

The panther simply looked up at him and nodded.

"Right. Thanks, kupo."

Isaac sat back down and looked up at his feline companion. Why was the panther doing this? Why would it take him to such a magical place and then not allow him to enter? There had to be something going on.

He was shaken from his considerations by the sound of a rustling from above. Quite a loud rustling. Isaac looked up, and stared.

"Whoa."

Up above, Isaac could see several shapes in the highest branches of the woods, jumping from one to another and back again. One of them in particular was moving constantly downward. This one appeared to be the centre of the others' attention, because they kept following it wherever it went. However, they could never seem to catch quite up.

Isaac sat up, and turned to the panther. "Okay, what's going on up there, kupo?"

The panther shrugged, then kept watching.

Soon the figures, four of them Isaac now counted, were close enough to the ground to make out their features clearly. Three of them were fairies, two of which were green, one of which was pink. One of the greens and the pink had fierce looks on their angelic faces, each one apparently very intent on destroying this opponent. The secondgreen one, however, had a strangely serene look of happiness, and was simply following the fourth.

The fourth figure was, as far as was discernable, human. However, his entire head but for his eyes and a ponytail was covered by a turban and a piece of fabric draped over his mouth. On his torso were several tightly wrapped black straps, each with some sort of strange object in them. He also wore a pair of baggy, dark blue pants with a pin stuck into their side. The pin was in the design of a lightly coloured blue human face with dark blue animal eyes and fangs. Isaac had heard descriptions of those pins many times, and knew exactly what this stranger must be: a blue mage.

Currently, the blue mage had no weapon drawn, despite the two swords attached tightly to his back. He seemed to be more of just waiting for the fairies to attack him the correct way, with a calculating look in his eyes.

One of them came at him with an open palm, apparently the only weapon these fairies had that wasn't magical. The blue mage instantly ducked the pitiful swing, and came back out with his own bare hand, which for only a moment grew a set of deadly red claws which dripped of poison and glowed with a blue light. The claws slashed into the fairy, but the poison didn't manage to infect her. He jumped back and continued circling.

Then the appropriate attack came. The more murderous of the two green fairies, frustrated now, shoved her hands forwards, and a howling gale began, whipping up into a small twister which flew forward and hit the blue mage squarely. The force of the wind knocked him from his current perch and made him fall about five metres to the ground, landing squarely on his feet. The fairy, however, would not let up, and kept the gale coming down at him. It screamed in, ready to rip at him again…

When suddenly, the mage burst into blue flames, which rushed forward to consume the twister even as it came. They stayed on the mage until all of the winds had been sucked in, and then the blue mage looked up and smirked.

He brought his hands together in a look of concentration, then brought them apart violently.

Blue light shone, and a twister leaped to life at his command, and barrelled in at the two attacking sprites. They strained against the force for a moment, before they were thrown away by its strength.

The blue mage laughed as they receded into the distance. He then turned to the kind looking fairy. "Well, your friends there managed to beat me up pretty bad there. Would you mind, uh…" He didn't know why, but Isaac got that same impression he'd gotten when hearing Thom's voice. It was familiar…

The fairy nodded, and brought her hands forward. A wind came up, much gentler than the two previous ones, and turned a whitish colour. It drifted gently to the mage and surrounded him, bathing him in its brilliance. As before, the blue flames enshrouded him, and the wind vanished in their blaze.

"Thanks, milady, though now I believe I must go. My kitty's waiting for me back home. Ta-ta!"

He walked away from the fairy, waving his goodbyes. As he left the clearing, he looked around and caught sight of the panther.

"What are _you_ doing here, Topier?" he asked curiously.

In response, the cat simply looked over at Isaac.

"Ah, our patient has wakened! How are you doing? It's quite a surprise you managed to survive such a fall."

"I've built up a resistance," Isaac muttered dryly. "Thank you for your help."

"Hey, you're welcome. I may only have an extremely lousy education as a white mage, but I do have a nice supply of potions. For curiosity, what's your name?"

"I'm Isaac," he replied, offering a paw, "machinist on the airship _Torrent_."

The blue mage shook his hand, but there was a faraway look in his eyes.

"Heh, that's strange. I used to have a friend name Isaac. Good guy. Oh, sorry, here I am reminiscing again. I'm one of the many protectors of Koringwood. The name's Ben."


	11. Nice to See You Again, Ben

"Ben?" Isaac asked incredulously. "Is that really you?"

"Yeah, why, have you heard of me?"

"Are you kidding, kupo? It's me, Isaac, don't you recognize…" Isaac stopped himself as he ran a fur covered paw along one of his foot long ears. "Okay, forget the recognize thing. But really, it's _me_, Isaac!"

There was a cautious and calculating look in those eyes, the only things visible on Ben's entire person. "Prove it."

"Well, I've got my fedora!" Isaac said, reaching up to his head. "Or, I had it before the fall…" he muttered as he felt the fur on his head. "Okay then, kupo, well, I can tell you this: our closest friends are Jacqueline, Maxwell and Eileen. They— Eep!"

Isaac stopped as Ben laid both of his sabres at Isaac's throat. Their curved edges seemed especially sharp in that light forest light, and Ben's eyes burned. "Who sent you. How did you learn that?"

"It's because _I'm Isaac_, you kupo idiot!" Isaac yelled, going up on tiptoe to avoid having the sharp swords break his skin.

"Prove it!"

Isaac had no other choice. He didn't really know whether it would work, because it didn't seem that Ben remembered, but he'd have to risk it. "We used to live in St. Ivalice!"

Ben didn't move this time, which was a good sign, Isaac thought. "Go on…"

"On the day that we disappeared, we were having the science fair and the track meet, kupo. We were wondering why they went through the trouble of renting an indoor track when they could of just waited until summer for the track meet. Eileen made that new alloy, the one she called materite, kupo, and I made a pneumatic gun for the fair. You wanted to enter the science fair, but couldn't because of your work at the animal shelter…"

As Isaac babbled on, more concerned for his own life than anything else, Ben slowly dropped his two sabres lower and lower. By the time Isaac finally stopped to take a breath, they were pointed at the forest floor bywrists reduced to rubber. Finally, Ben dropped one sabre, and reached up with his hand to unbutton the piece of fabric which covered his face. Then, Isaac could clearly see it was him, and he stopped speaking altogether.

"Isaac…" he said quietly. "I can't believe it's you."

"Yeah," Isaac muttered. "Neither can I, kupo. I didn't think I'd ever…"

"You're a MOOGLE!" Ben interrupted him, laughing.

The two of them burst out laughing, Isaac's slightly higher pitched and squeakier than usual laughter only doubling their merriment.

"Well, it's good to see you haven't changed too much," Ben said, picking his sabres back up and shoving both of them into their sheaths on his back. "But we should get back to my hideout fast. That fairy back there won't be happy when it wakes up."

"Kupopo?"

"The only reason that that was a two on one instead of a three on one is because I paid big gil for a one-time charm spell. She'll start chasing after us screaming in a couple of minutes. You wanna stick around for that?"

"Let's roll," Isaac said, drawing his gun just in case and following Topier and Ben through the trees.

As Isaac followed Ben through the forest, he noticed something different about the way he was moving. It wasn't anything dramatic, like a limp or a stagger or anything, just something that suggested a certain… awareness. It was barely noticeable, but every now and again he picked up that little extra weight placed in a step, an occasional step which was longer or shorter than the last, which all around made his movement completely silent. It was rather strange. The only things which he could hear were his own uncertain footfalls, the clank of his gun and ammo, and the easypad of Topier's paws on the soft earth. Something had definitely changed in Ben's mannerisms.

Soon they made it into the dugout hollow which Ben was using as his home. As soon as they got underground, Ben reached up and pulled off his turban, completely letting his hair back into its customary ponytail.

"So," Ben began awkwardly after a moment of silence. "What've you been up to?"

"Well," Isaac began, "as I told you, kupo, I've been working for the past three months on the airship the Torrent. In the machine room, of course, kupo. All the while I've been being taught how to fight with a blade and a gun, and I've had plenty of time to practice. Then, a little while ago, I got into a massive battle, during which we broke the laws and defeated a Grand Inquisitor's crew. Then, we hit a massive storm, and I got knocked off of the edge of the ship, and passed out. You?"

Ben laughed. "I started off in a large city called Sprohm, populated mainly by bangaas. I didn't have anywhere to go, and then I got mugged. Eventually I joined a thieves' guild, and started doing work for them, on the promise that they'd show me how to get to a nearby forest or something along those lines if I helped them. Well, in the end, it worked out that it was one of those Catch 22 situations. I did more and more, and they kept requiring more and more. Vicious cycle, you know? So eventually, I just broke into the house of a wealthy nu mou alchemist, stole one of her maps, and found my way out here. That's why I had to throw you the great reception party back there. Yesterday morning I found you and you were nearly dead, so me and Topier here got you back here, and I went over to learn some better healing techniques from the fairies."

"Sounds like fun, kupo," Isaac said. "Hey, guess who else is here?"

"Who?"

"Our old friend Thomas."

"He remembers the old world too?" Ben asked, a confused look in his eyes.

"Well, I assume so. I didn't exactly get the chance to ask, kupo, I was too busy dodging knives. Why wouldn't he remember it?"

Ben sighed in annoyance. "Well, there are a lot of people in this world, and from what I know, extremely few of them remember the old world."

"How many? I don't know too much about the world, kupo, only what I've managed to scrape up in the pubs and from my travelling companions."

"Well," Ben began, a thoughtful expression on his face, "I don't really know how to tell you… well… I guess you've realised that the world we're in is just like one of those from the Final Fantasy games, right?"

"You don't say, kupo?" Isaac asked, his voice dripping sarcasm and his eyebrows raising slightly as he over-pronounced the 'kupo'.

"Okay, sorry, that was a bit obvious I guess. Well, here's the weird part. Our world is… well you see it's… hey, you know what, look at this map."

Ben walked over to the bed Isaac had woken up on and reached underneath. There were a few clicks, and then he pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment paper. He unrolled it, and passed it over to Isaac.

"Ku_po_… Where did you _get _this?" Isaac asked, his eyes wide and his mouth dropping slightly open.

The map which he held was not like any map he'd ever seen. On the paper, all the physiological features were shown in 3D. There were bright points on it showing where all the major and minor cities were, with their names written next to them in curving and swooping elegant letters. As Isaac's eyes moved upward towards the top of the map, he was shocked to see the borders of the map moving to show the land farther to the North. Isaac looked up at Ben as he began to speak.

"Let's just say that I went through a _lot _of trouble for it."

"How much is a lot, kupo?"

"I haven't returned to the city, or any other city with direct economic, cultural or political ties to it, since. Here, there's more."

Ben reached down to touch one bright point of light, and said, "Baguba Port."

Instantly, the map flashed into darkness for a moment, before lighting back up to show a detailed map of the city Isaac had come to know reasonably well. In the top right corner lines of words and statistics ran across in a constant stream.

"Kupokupo!" Isaac muttered.

"Tell me about it," Ben responded. He touched the map again, "Full view."

Instantly, the entire land of Ivalice came into view. "Now here's where it gets really interesting," Ben continued, and then began pointing to several points on the map. "The college in St. Ivalice would have been here, the city of Cadoan and highest concentration of nu mou," the point flared up as he touched it. "Here are the main suburbs of St. Ivalice, andthe human town of Cyril in Ivalice. The industrial sector of our town matches up withBaguba Port, the moogle centre; wherethe jail and the courthouse used to be there's nowthe bangaa metropolis of Sprohm; and here wherethe town market should be, the vierra's forest city of Muscadet." Ben looked over at Isaac. "Creepy, huh?"

"Beyond," he muttered. "So this world is both Final Fantasy _and _St. Ivalice, kupo?"

"Yup," Ben said.

"And there are some people who remember the old world and some who don't?"

"Yup," Ben said.

"And nobody has any idea what's going on, kupo?"

"Yup," Ben said.

"Sweet," Isaac said. "I'd assume there's more, kupo?"

"You know it. The way I see it, we're both screwed."

"Why's that?"

"Well, let's see," Ben said, beginning to list things off the reasons on his hands. "You just humiliated a High Inquisitor, his right hand mage, and his newest pet partner, not to mention resisted arrest and became a suspect of being one of the fugitive members of Clan Nutsy. I myself have a criminal record that's very… uh, I'm looking for a word here…"

"Lengthy?" Isaac volunteered.

"I was thinking more in the area of legendary, or exemplary, or fatal."

"You're embellishing, kupo," Isaac muttered.

"I wish. It's annoying," Ben sighed. "Anyways, yeah, with young bounty hunters constantly trying to get at me, it's not likely we're going to last long."

"Well that's encouraging, kupo," Isaac said. "Anything else while you're at it?"

"Do you know how to fight?"

"Of course I do, kupo! We had fights at least once a week on the_ Torrent_."

"Great, so do you want to have a quick little duel?" Ben asked.

"What, kupo?"

"It's been forever since I last had a good one on one with someone using something other than a claw or a maw. Would you mind just having a quick fencing match?"

"Alright, kupo, if you really want to…" Isaac said. "I'll summon the the judge."

They made their way out into the open air, and Isaac quickly reached down to his sash for a card.

"Hey, kupo, what the…" Isaac asked.

"What's wrong?"

"My judge points, kupo! They're gone! All of them!"

"What?" Ben said, walking over. "How many did you have?"

"A full sash: ten! Bloody kupo! It took me a few months to collect those!"

"But that's impossible! Those sashes are designed to not lose any cards unless you draw them yourself!"

"I know," Isaac said bitterly. "Ah well, you might as well summon it then."

Ben nodded, then reached down to his belt, and he drew a card. "I declare an engagement!"

As the judge appeared, Isaac told Ben, "I should warn you, kupo, I haven't really been using my blade too much; I prefer my gun."

Ben smirked as he began advancing, "_I_ should warn _you_, I haven't used my sabres in forever; I've been developing my blue magic."

Isaac drew his blade, and was about to approach Ben, when the blue mage stopped and said, "Hey, do you know what the laws are, per chance?"

"Laws?" Isaac asked.

"You know, the ones that the judges enforce? The ones they'll throw you in prison for breaking? Red cards, yellow cards?"

Isaac stared blankly at him, so he went on, "Never mind, hey, Judgie Boy! You mind telling us what the laws are today?"

The judge's loud voice rang out (somewhat annoyed at being called 'Judgie Boy', Isaac noticed), announcing, "Law prohibiting the use of broadswords, and law rewarding the use of instruments!"

"Good, nothing bad then," Ben said, and proceeded to draw his sabres and rush at Isaac full speed.

He had barely enough time to raise a blade up in front of him to block the two sweeping sabres. Continuing his momentum, Ben stepped forward and brought both sabres in a sideways chop. Isaac, as soon as he saw it coming, twirled his blade so that it was held upside down in his hand, and blocked the two swords double-handed. Then, curving his arms a bit so that they still held the blade in a blocking position, he punched out with the pommel at Ben's face.

He ducked the blow, then, so that Isaac couldn't make another such attack, he jumped backwards a few feet. Both of the two old friends and new warriors stood facing each other for a moment, their chests heaving from exertion.

"You've had some good teachers," Ben commented.

"Experience was one of them, kupo," Isaac responded.

They rushed towards each other again, both prepared for the other to slash at him, but they each had a different idea. In a rapid moment, Isaac drew his gun, pointed, and fired. At the same time, Ben stopped his charge and whipped his hands around, summoning a twister before him. The bullet sped through the quicker wind, and beaned Ben off the head. Seeing that he had a chance to catch Ben off-balance (something which, from what he'd seen of Ben so far, was not common for the mage), Isaac risked plunging directly into wind, trusting his own balance.

As soon as Isaac entered the wind, he felt strange. It tore at him, whipping about and tugging at every piece of his clothing. However, that wasn't too bad. The thing which was strange was that the way that the wind tugged at… tugged at… his soul? Did that even make sense? It was just pulling at something more than his body. He didn't know why, but he knew that somehow the winds were hurting him, but they wouldn't kill him. Still, when he finally rushed out the other side, he felt horribly spent. Much weaker than he'd been when he first ran through.

Still, it was worth it, because when he could see again and the winds weren't pulling at him, Ben was still of balance. Isaac rushed up and whipped his blade across as high as he could get on Ben's still human form.

Ben fell back farther, staggering as he went. However, the added momentum was enough to get him to twirl around and up to his feet, slashing at Isaac, who had followed him looking for another opening. Isaac managed to block the first slash, but the second attack came across and ripped a deep cut into him from his cheek to just above his eye. Isaac threw himself backwards, knowing that he'd underestimated Ben's agility, and that he'd paid dearly for it. Isaac continued backing up, attempting to get as much distance between the two of them.

"Well, that was fun," Ben called over to him, holding the slash in his stomach to try and keep on his feet. "You ready to call it quits?"

"Are you kidding, kupo?" Isaac called over, wiping blood out of his eye so that he could see correctly. "It's just a scratch!"

"A scratch?" Ben asked standing up straight to approach the moogle. "You can't even see."

"And you can't even stand, kupo!"

"Only because you cheated with your bloody bullet!"

"Okay, yeah, I admit that, kupo, but that was at the exact same time you threw that twister."

They were quiet for a moment, and then burst out laughing as best they could in their injured states. Finally, Ben looked over at the judge and yelled, "Hey, judge, the engagement's over. We've come to the agreement of a draw!"

The judge turned to Isaac. "Do you concur?"

"Yeah, I concur, kupo."

The judge disappeared, and with him went their wounds. Isaac shook his head and ran his hands through his headfur, as Ben stood up straight and rubbed the place where up until recently there was a massive gash.

"Well, that went well," Ben said. "Maybe it'll go better if we don't break the rules next time."

"Probably. You're good, kupo, though nothing like what I've heard about blue mages. I always heard that they relied mainly on their presence and intimidation, kupo, instead of actually pure skill."

"Well," Ben said, shrugging, "I'm not your run of the mill blue mage. I've also trained as a ninja."

"Oh," Isaac said. "Waitaminute, you are both a powerful blue mage who's earned the respect and knowledge of the forest _and _a skilled ninja who's already managed to get the law and those against the law pissed off at you for baling out, all ina fewmonths, kupo?"

"Um, yes," Ben said simply.

"You've been busy, kupo."

"Well, I've met people who've done worse in _much _less time," Ben said, laughing. "You should see my friend, Ezel Berbier!"

"Hey, for curiosity, kupo," Isaac asked, looking over at Topier, "why are you hanging out with a panther?"

"To be totally fair, _he's _letting _me _hang out with him. This little hollow is his home; I'm just staying here. And, well, what can I say? He's nothing but a big old kitten." He reached over and rubbed Topier behind the head. The huge red cat stretched and yawned at his touch. Ben's voice was quiet as he muttered, "He's the best friend I've met since I came here…"

"So you don't know where any of the others are?"

"None of them. I haven't even heard of _anybody _named Jacqueline, Maxwell or Eileen. I guess that you have no idea either?"

"Well…" Isaac thought. "I've been having these… dreams, kupo. Always four at a time. And, I don't know, kupo I've always had this feeling after each dream that… I'm back home. With you guys."

Ben looked curiously over at him. "That's strange. I've had weak feelingslike that. Never anything definite, just these weird little feelings every now and again. And it's always just like what you described. Like I was with everyone again."

The two remained quiet for a long time. Both were happy to remain within their own thoughts. Isaac began servicing his gun, while Ben continued stroking Topier's lustrous fur.

"So what happens now, kupo?" Isaac asked at last. "What are we supposed to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, kupo. We're just staying here in the forest, knowing that everyone else is probably out there, somewhere, kupo?"

"There's nothing else we can do about it, though. None of the others are in danger, are they?"

"Let me think…" Isaac closed his eyes for a moment. "You were in the city, kupo, stealing from people, and then you were in the forest. I _think_ that was you. Then there were the others. One of them, kupo, probably Eileen, was getting some hype about becoming some sort of new sage or alchemist in a guild or something. Then the others, kupo, I'm not so sure about. They're fuzzy, blurred at the edges. Both are fighting in front of others, kupo. But the emotions are different… I don't understand it, kupo."

"Well, can you tell if any of them are in trouble?"

"I don't think so, kupo," Isaac said at last.

"Fine, then, let's just relax and try to enjoy this, then." Ben looked over at him, raising his eyebrows. "Isaac, seriously, look at us. I'm stroking a giant red cat whose claws are the size of knives, with two sabres stuck to my back which I've learned how to fight with. You're working holding a gun in your, well, your paw, with a blade at your side. Can you think of anything cooler?"

"I guess not, kupo," Isaac laughed. "Well, let's get some sleep."

"Yeah, we'll need some. We're going to go and check on my territory tomorrow. It takes a while, and we've got lots of distance to cover. Good night, Isaac."

"G'night, Ben," Isaac said, jumping down onto the ground. He curled up, using his fur alone for warmth. It was at that moment that it hit him that he _was _in a fantasy world and that he _was _curling up in his _fur_. _Sweet. I guess this isn't too bad, anyways. _Smirking, Isaac dosed off.


	12. Checking out the Turf

"Come on, get up," Ben's voice ordered Isaac through his slumber.

"Gruheyargh, kupo," the moogle responded incoherently.

Something heavy hit Isaac in the side of the face. _That_ got him up. His eyes popped open and he leaned up, looking over at Ben with an annoyed expression.

"What was that, kupo?"

"My shoe. Would you mind passing it back to me? I need it."

Isaac grabbed the shoe and threw it over to the blue mage. "I see you still use the same methods to wake people up in this world as the old one, kupo."

"Meh, three months, the machinations of the thieving world, fighting giant monsters and learning to use magic and sabres doesn't change you too much."

"Apparently not, kupo. So why am I getting up at… What time _is_ it, kupo?"

Ben leaned out of the entrance of the hollow, looking up. "Well, according to the sun's position in the sky, it could be any time between eleven at night and five in the morning."

"Kupopo?"

"Just get out here with your equipment, and bring the map, too." Ben disappeared out of the small living space, before popping his head back in for a moment. "Oh, and by the way, try not to wake up Topier. He doesn't exactly like getting up early, and you look a surprisingly lot like a tasty rabbit to him."

Isaac quickly went about, throwing on all of his equipment as quickly as he could and, observing Ben's warning, avoiding the sleeping panther. In little time, he made his way out, pausing just a moment to grab the map.

As soon as he got out into the open space, he understood Ben's words. "The sun isn't even _in _the bloody sky, kupo."

"Didn't you say you were working on an airship? I thought that people worked all night on those things."

"Yeah, I can work all night, kupo," Isaac told Ben, following him through the trees. "But there's a difference when I'm working all night for two nights at a time and when I have to get up at… whatever time in the morning, kupo."

"And that difference is…?"

"I don't have to waste the effort on waking up."

"Ah. Wait, you can go two days without sleep?"

"I've learned, kupo. Something about being a moogle. Apparently we can go ridiculous amounts of time without sleep, and then just burn out in a completely dead sleep afterwards."

"Oh. How's the sleep afterwards?"

"It's so kupo, words can't express it."

"Right."

"So where are we going, kupo?"

"Well, right here."

They stopped. Good thing, too, or else they would've walked right into the tree just in front of them.

"Wait, kupo, I thought you said we were going to need all day to get where we were going?"

"Well, it will. We still need to climb this baby."

"We're climbing _this_, kupo?" Isaac exclaimed, staring up at the remarkably tall tree's far away top.

"Oh yeah. I can make it up on my own, usually, and then I'll throw a rope down to you." With that, Ben jumped up and grabbed onto a low-hanging branch, swinging himself up onto the top. He leaped forward towards the next branch, and began making his slow way up.

"So, I'm supposed to just wait here for you to toss me down a rope, kupo?"

"That's the plan," Ben called back between heavy breaths.

"And what should I do if a wandering monster happens upon me, kupo?"

"Fight it off."

"Oh, forget that, kupo," Isaac muttered. He took a few steps back, then, after ruffling his stiff wings, jumped up and power-flapped all the way to the branch Ben was perched on.

"Not bad."

"There are some kupo uses to being a moogle."

"Well, to be fair, you were probably small enough in the old world to float on air or something."

"Shut _up_, kupo. So, seeing as I can make it up to the top faster, kupo, how about if I throw you the rope down?"

"Why, somebody's getting conceited. You actually think you'll be able to get up there first?"

"I don't think, kupo, I know. I cleared these four branches in the time it takes you to clear one."

"True, but I'm also not blowing ridiculous amounts of energy on each flight. Seriously, you're sweating through your fur after even that short flight."

"Hey, I've got a lot of built up energy, kupo. Just you watch!"

"Fine then, last one to the top has to carry the other one down!"

With that, Ben started lunging upwards, sometimes skipping entire branches as he made his way steadily up. Isaac was right after him, his small wings flapping like mad.

"Hey, I don't think that those steaks are fair, kupo! I weigh at most, what, forty pounds?"

"You should've thought of that before you agreed to this!"

"I didn't agree to this, kupo!"

"Well, sucks to be you then, doesn't it?"

Isaac laughed at that, and launched himself off of the branch he had paused on for a moment, passing Ben by about six branches. Ben quickly passed him as he rested, yelling, and Isaac followed, and they traded insult after insult between them as they made their ways slowly upwards.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

An hour later, Isaac lay panting in a heap on one of the highest branches. _Oh god, _he thought, _why the bloody hell does this hurt so much?_

He heard a soft pat of feet next to him, and knew that Ben had caught up.

"Heh, I told you that you'd run out of energy," the human said, his eyes smiling behind all of the fabric covering his face.

"Aw, shut it, kupo," Isaac gasped.

"I'll just get to the top and then I'll come back to carry you up to the top," Ben replied, and Isaac could tell he was smirking.

At that moment, the small moogle kicked out with his feet and just caught Ben in the shin. The blue mage tripped and fell to the branch, beginning to roll off the edge, then just grabbed onto it.

Isaac leaned up, still panting, but smirking. "I think I can keep going now, kupo."

"Bloody moogle. Won't you at least help me back up?"

"You can do it, kupo. I mean, you're so strong with all your not being two feet tall."

"You _are_ a venomous little bugger, aren't you?"

"And I wasn't before, kupo?"

"No, before you were just chronically unorganized and undersized."

"Well, kupo, I'm definitely not helping you now," Isaac laughed, and took off from the branch, reaching the top of the tree and breaking through the foliage.

As he broke the top, his eyes opened and his jaw dropped.

When Ben finally made it up ten minutes later, he was still there, staring.

"Nice view, huh?"

"Kupokupokupo," he gasped.

Before the two of them stretched miles upon miles of sheer green canopy, going on for what seemed like forever. Light shone down around them from the cloudless sky, showing the darkness of the forest's roof in all its magnificent. Only large birds could be seen at the head of the trees, for all the smaller types found such heights uncomfortable. Everything was either green foliage, blue sky, or brilliant sunlight.

"On first glance, it's a paradise, I know," Ben said, looking at his territory fondly. "However, if you look just a bit closer over there…"

Isaac followed Ben's pointing finger. At first he didn't see anything, so he squinted, and then he saw it. There was a… break… in the foliage. Just one space where it was darker than the others, almost like a massive puzzle with one piece missing.

"What's that, kupo?"

"That," Ben said, the light leaving his face for the first time since he'd held the sabres to Isaac's neck, "is what I'm here to protect against."

Ben was quiet for a long time after that, simply staring at the hole. Isaac left him to his thoughts, thinking it best not to pry, and let the curiosity of his moogle instincts take over, glancing about. He saw a complex of platforms and swinging ropes on all the nearby trees, leading off into the forest. He noted that most of the platforms appeared to be made of lesser-quality wood, not dangerously old, but definitely not fresh by any extent.

He also noticed that there were several other holes like the first which Ben had shown him in the carpet of green around him. Quite a few, actually, when you really looked. He looked over at his friend, and realised what Ben was in this world. _Oh Famfrit, he's an environmental activist! He lives out here just to protect these trees from anyone who tries to cut them down._

"I came here just to escape, and to try to get back to who I was in St Ivalice," Ben finally said, his eyes still gazing at the sea of green. "But when I finally got here, I got attacked by a bunch of bladebiters. I would've died, if it weren't for a bangaa who showed up and fought them off. Her name was Cassandra. Great white monk, that bangaa. Anyway, she took me in and helped me get better. Then, she took me under her wing, sort of looked out for me and taught me about the forest. She was the one who introduced me to the idea of the protectors of the Koringwood. She taught me everything that I know about surviving outside of the urban environment I hated so much. This used to be her territory, and her viewing platform, actually, but she gave it to me."

"What happened to her, kupo?" Isaac asked.

Ben didn't answer, and Isaac knew somehow that he never would. Before the situation could get any more uncomfortable, Isaac added, pointing at the pin on his pants, "And where'd you get that, kupo?"

"Oh," Ben said, a grin returning to his face. "_That _I got from another one of us protectors of the forest. A blue mage, much like myself. He saw the connection I had with animals, so he decided to try and teach me how to use their energies as my own." His grin widened. "It was an interesting couple of weeks."

"How do you _learn _that kind of kupo stuff?"

"Well, first of all, through of pain. _Lots _of pain. You know how blue magic works, right? The whole pain to gain, thing? Well, that takes a lot of development to learn. By the end of the three weeks we spent together, I hated that guy. I mean, I'd been poisoned too many times to count, and swarmed by differing kinds of animals who were pissed at our annoying intrusions."

"You _have _been busy, kupo," Isaac said, impressed.

"Oh yeah. And how about you. You told me barely anything last night. What've you done the past three months?"

"Lots of late nights, kupo, hard airship work, kupo, fights with pirates, kupo, sleeping for long periods of time, kupo, and heavy drinking in the pubs, kupo. I learned to drink in the past three months by the way. Apparently there isn't a drinking age in Baguba Port."

"Oh, come on, tell me a bit more. What ship were you on, who did you fight, who were you sailing with, what did you learn? Come on, man!"

"Alright, alright," Isaac laughed. He began telling him about his fall from the sky, and waking up, discovering his loss of humanity, meeting the crew, his first engagement, Clay teaching him to shoot, Foobar teaching him to sword fight. At this point, they began making their ways back down the tree, Ben not carrying Isaac, despite their little gamble. As they went on, Isaac continued, relating the many adventures he'd had on the clouds, the battle in which his captain nearly died, and the storm which begat his second fall from the skies. By the time he had finally finished, the sun was much lower in the sky, and the many little critters which roamed the forest floor had begun retiring to their respective homes, and the nocturnal creatures had begun coming out.

"Nice story," Ben said at last as they entered the hollow. "You've been pretty busy yourself."

"I guess I have, kupo," Isaac answered, surprised that he'd only just realised that fact. "It sucks that I lost my fedora, though."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

"Hey, kupo, I understand that you didn't like it back in the real world, but come on, kupo, it's still pretty awesome…"

"I didn't mean it like that. Look behind you."

Isaac turned around, and nearly felt like crying. There sat Topier, lounged out per usual in a position as comfortable as possible, looking somewhat smug with himself. Lying on the table was Isaac's fedora.

"Oh Famfrit, kupo, I love that cat!" he cried, rushing over and grabbing the hat. He slapped it quickly onto his head, then reached over and scratched Topier behind his ear. "Where did he find this?"

"I don't know. But it looks like he likes you, and he's a pretty good tracker. He probably just followed your scent."

"Bloody brilliant cat, kupo."

"You don't know anything yet," Ben told him. "From what you've told me, the only time you've spent off that airship has been in the pubs in Baguba and a few port areas, right?"

"Pretty much, kupo."

"Just wait until you see the rest of the world with your feet on the ground. This place is beautiful, Isaac. The entire world, it's like one of those fantasy paintings that you always see, but never think is ever possible. I mean, in Cadoan, there are entire buildings the physics of which are impossible if it weren't for the magic. Sprohm has these giant, elegant and rustic buildings that have stood for over a thousand years. I've never been to Cyril or Muscadet, but apparently they're each as beautiful as the cities, in their own ways. And then there's the natural features, and the embodiments of natural magic throughout this world. You've seen a lot of things, but never up close or in detail."

"Well, kupo, I can't think of anybody I'd rather share this world with than my friends. Just promise me one thing, kupo."

"What's that?"

"If we ever get any hint, even a whisper, kupo, of Eileen, Jacqueline or Maxwell, we'll follow it to our last breaths. You're right, kupo, and I trust you that this land is beautiful, but it's dangerous too, kupo, and if me and you are any evidence, our group isn't too good at staying on the right side of the law here."

"No arguments. Now let's get some sleep. That climb tired me out."

"Me too, kupo. G'night."

Isaac slipped down from the bed, and curled up onto the ground again. Then, on second thought, he pushed himself over closer to Topier's side for the warmth. _This is the life, _he thought. _There are just three things missing._

He fell asleep with thoughts of late nights in snowy streets with the greatest of companions with him.


	13. The Rescue Opperation

_Now this, this was a challenge. Before, with simply his rapier, everything had been so easy, just a simple recitation of his own abilities, almost. Now, with this added difficulty, this extra dimension which the magic added, everything was difficult again. It was anybody's battle to win. He pumped his hand, whipping out thrust after thrust rapidly. His foe, one quite like himself in that she relied on her fighting skills more than magic, managed to bang each one away, then held forth her hand. Energy crackled from it, smashed into him, sent him flying. He pulled a full backflip in the air, landing on his feet and holding his own hands out. Flames leapt from the palms, catching his opponent as she charged. They missed her for the most part, however, they did slow her up and knock her off-balance enough for him to rush in with his rapier and touch—_

_He felt himself double over as pain exploded through his stomach. Why were they doing this? He'd promised them that he would fight without complaint, and he was doing it, so why did they beat him still? One threw both of their fists at him in a great swinging punch, knocking him off his feet and spinning to the ground. He moaned in agony, trying to push himself back up. They stomped on his back. He lay there for a moment, wheezing and getting ready… he felt the displacement of air as a hand moved slowly towards him, then he lunged, grabbing it between his teeth and ripping through to touch—_

_He stood, holding his heavy weapon in his hand, looking down at the man standing beside him. The man nodded, and they started moving again. He could see the power with which he walked; the well-earned confidence, total steadiness, and absolute lack of fear. He saw this in his companion, and feared him. However, he knew that this other also feared him. His growing power was impressive, and he'd now learned to focus it with greater precision. He could it pulsing through his veins as he walked, gathering in his mind as he thought, burning behind his eyes as he stared. Before, he'd been trying to identify it, unsure of what that power was, but now, oh _now_, he could literally touch—_

_And now, he was there himself, next to this one who he had been mere moments before. He stood, seeing only the power, yet he, Isaac, could also see the one the other had been looking at. And Isaac, as Isaac, saw more than he had as the other person. He saw the quick, furtive glances he kept casting about him, and the nervousness he actually exhibited. Watching his eyes, Isaac saw them linger a bit too long in a certain direction. Isaac whirled in that direction, and saw a small light flash from a mirror in another direction. Then, there was somebody behind the other person next to him, the powerful one, and that somebody raised something heavy, preparing to bring it down on the powerful one's head. Isaac cried, out, lunging forward to touch—_

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"EILEEN!" Isaac screamed, sitting up from his sleep. He whipped his hand out to grab his blade which was laying on the floor next to him. His entire body was soaked in sweat, all of it dripping down in rivulets across his face and ears. He could almost feel the adrenaline running through his veins.

"Isaac? What the hell's going on?" Ben said tiredly as he sat up from his bed. "I don't like getting woken up by a screaming moogle, you know."

All of his exhaustion was swept away when he sat up and saw that Isaac had grabbed his haversack, and that he was packing the few personal effects he possessed which hadn't been destroyed in his fall into it.

"Isaac, what are you doing?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm leaving, kupo."

"What, why?"

"They need us."

"Who needs us?"

"Um, who the hell do we both know in this world, kupo? Eileen, Maxwell and Jacqueline."

"What did you see, Isaac?" Ben asked, rolling off his bed and grabbing the two belts which held his sabres. "Tell me exactly."

"I don't quite know myself. Jacqueline and Max are fighting in rings, kupo, one for money and pleasure, the other one is being forced to fight and gets tortured when they don't. Or when they do, kupo. I can't tell."

Ben was quiet. He just kept wrapping on his many layers of clothing and equipment.

Once Isaac had his ammo belt, sash, and blade attached, and he'd thrown on his hat and his shirt, the badge on the sleeve displayed broadly out for the world to see, and Ben had put on all of his effects, they left. Topier padded softly behind them, keeping his eyes open to everything about them.

"You didn't mention Eileen," Ben said softly.

"She's in much more immediate danger, and I get the feeling that she's somewhere nearby. That's the only reason that I'd get such a clear feeling from her."

Ben noticed the lack of kupos in his speech, and assumed that that meant he was scared. He'd known Isaac back in the real world, and even though he was against people getting hurt, he was no coward. Seeing him this frightened was bad.

They walked on through the darkness for maybe an hour, without speaking to each other. Finally, something somewhat important occurred to Ben.

"Hey, Isaac, where _are_ we going?"

"Kupopo?"

"I mean, how do you know what direction Eileen's in?"

"Uh, well, kupo," Isaac stammered, as though the idea had just occurred to him. "I don't quite know. This direction just feels, well, right, kupo."

"Great, so I'm following a moogle who just woke up in the middle of the night screaming, to someplace that he doesn't even know exists but for a feeling. It feels just like back home."

"Hey, shut up, kupo! Most of those paths I tried when we went hiking were right!"

"What are you talking about? You and Max nearly fell over the edge of a waterfall that one time!"

"Which time was that, kupo?"

"That was the time before Eileen started plotting out the paths in advance and I started leading."

"Oh, right, kupo. Well whatever, I know where I'm going this time, kupo." To accentuate his point, he put his left foot into a large pit, which made him trip over and fall to the ground.

"You always do that, too."

"What, kupo," Isaac sputtered, picking himself up, "trip after sticking my foot into a hole in the ground?"

"That too, but, well, you always stick your foot in it. You just did it a bit more literally this time, and, hey what are you doing?"

"Here, you're a better tracker than me, kupo," Isaac told him, leaning over and staring at the hole where he'd just fallen into. It had an acrid smell to it. "What do you make of this?"

"That, uh," Ben leaned in close, sniffed, felt the ground, "I think that that's a crater."

"Kupopo?"

"A crater. Fresh one, too."

"You're kidding, kupo. Please tell me that you're kidding?"

"I wish I was. Hey, Topier, get over here," he ordered. "I need you to find where this leads."

The cat leaned in and sniffed at the charred earth, his nostrils flaring slightly in disgust. Then, he stalked forward and sniffed a nearby tree. The panther looked back at the two friends, and gestured with his head in the direction he was headed.

"I like that cat, kupo," Isaac muttered, and they started following him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

They journeyed on for maybe another hour, before Topier stopped and looked back at them, a low growl in his voice. They could see a light up ahead, likely caused by a campfire or a torch. Ben nodded to Isaac, and then slowly and silently drew his two sabres, holding them loosely in his hands. Isaac took the hint, and drew his own blade from its sheath in his left hand, and unholstering his loaded gun. The two then made their way slowly forward, Ben leading, and Isaac using his steps to make as little noise as possible.

At one point, they saw a guard posted just outside the camp. Ben looked over at him and nodded in a direction which would take them around the guard in a wide arc.

Soon, they were just outside of the circle of light. They could see that there were about ten people in the camp, not counting the sentry and any others they might have missed. All of them held differing weapons, ranging from swords to knives to bows. One very experienced- and dangerous-looking man stood at the centre of the ring, waxing the string of a greatbow with careful precision. He wore a large, yellow hat, the symbol of a ranger, and his clothes looked dirty and travel-worn. A small skinning knife was stuck into his belt. The other main thing that they noticed was a figure, bundled up with a sack over their head. It looked like a nu mou, the only one in the assembled group. Both the moogle and the human instantly knew that this had to be Eileen.

Isaac looked over at Ben with a questioning look. Ben pointed at Isaac's gun, then pointed at the nu mou, mouthing the word, _Ropes?_

Isaac looked over at the ropes, back at Ben, and cocked an eyebrow, a, _You've got to be kidding me, _kind of look.

Ben shrugged, and looked again. There wasn't anything that he could see at first, but soon a plan began entering his mind. He looked at all the shorter trees in the area, and checked their position in relation to the bundled up captive. Just about right, he figured.

He turned back to Isaac, and muttered to him in a low whisper, "Here's what I need you to do. I'm going into the trees, and I'm going to try to drop down as close to Eileen as possible. What's your best status effect shot?"

Isaac thought. "In this situation, I'd say that confuseshot's the best bet, kupo."

"Alright then, cause as much chaos as you can, I'll get Eileen, and then we can get out of here as fast as possible."

Isaac nodded, and watched as Ben jumped into the nearest tree and began scaling it. He grabbed his gun and held it ready to fire, getting out a couple extra bullets at the same time. One thing he'd learned from Clay's instruction and his battle with Thomas was that you could never have enough ammo actually in your hands.

Soon, Ben was as high from the ground as he could get, and looked easily within range of leaping down to Eileen's side. Taking a deep breath, Isaac leaned out slightly from his cover to watch, and picked out his first target. It was due to this position that the could see what happened.

Suddenly, the ranger in the centre of camp tensed, for no reason at all it seemed. He leaped up and grabbed his greatbow, pulling an arrow from a quiver at his side and putting it to his string in one smooth motion. He whipped around, pointed high into the trees, and let loose.

Ben cried out as the arrow grazed his side, knocking him off his balance and careening to the earth below. He smacked the ground next to where Eileen lay and groaned loudly. Instantly, two of the others around the campfire pounced on him and tied him down to the ground with thick ropes. A bangaa came up to the bound captive, and grabbed his face with her large strong hand.

"Who are you?" she asked.

Ben bit her finger.

She smacked him across the face, then kneed him in the crotch.

Ben began issuing a long line of rather harsh words as he crouched up as much as his bonds would allow him.

"Shit, kupo." Isaac muttered. "Well, I'm quite screwed now, kupo."

"You have no idea."

Isaac spun around, just in time to see the fist of the second sentry, the one they hadn't seen, coming in at his face. Then there was an explosion of pain, and then darkness, and then nothing more.


	14. Eileen and a Chase Scene

Isaac awoke to find that his head was, per usual it seemed, pounding in agony. He moaned, and slowly tried to roll over off of his back and onto his side. He couldn't. There was something holding his arms and legs in place. Reluctantly, seeing as whenever he did this his situation tended to get worse, he opened his eyes.

He was, as he'd been suspecting, bound by his wrists and his ankles to a few hooks in the walls of some structure. A structure which was bouncing and jostling, Isaac assumed, down a road. Probably a wagon of some sort.

"So, the sleeping beauty awakes."

Isaac turned his head quickly to the left. He soon regretted this, because it threw him into a painfully dizzy moment of disorientation. When he could finally see the world without it twirling around him, he saw Ben there, tied up to two hooks situated slightly farther apart from each other than Isaac's.

"Aw, look away again."

"Why, kupo?"

"Your face is all bruised and swollen. I mean, it's an improvement on the usual, but still disgusting."

Isaac grinned slightly, though it pained him, and replied, "How's your crotch, kupo?"

"I hate you."

"Right back atcha!"

"Uh, whatever. Was Topier with you when you got captured?"

"Er, no, I don't think he followed us once we saw the light, kupo."

"Then there's still a little hope, I guess."

"Mmph phn ha chit," said a muffled voice from somewhere around Isaac.

"Okay, kupo, what was that?" Isaac asked, thoroughly confused.

"Oh, that's Eileen."

"Where is she?"

"Chrit hurr!"

"Er, Ben, you wanna field that one, kupo?"

"She's right over there," Ben said, gesturing with his head.

Isaac turned his head to look, and saw a large pile of rice bags lying in the corner. Or it looked like a pile of rice bags at the beginning, but after a moment of staring, Isaac noticed that there was only one large rice bag, stuck at the top. The rest of the 'rice bags' were actually flowing robes, covering the body of what Isaac assumed was a nu mou. There was also the end of a large, furry orange tail sticking out of one of the robes, which fidgeted occasionally.

"Hey, Eileen."

"Cheh, Ihaak. Eh eh eh, u ach a chugle!"

"Yeah, I missed that one, kupo."

"She said, 'Ha ha ha, you are a moogle'," Ben told him helpfully.

"I _like _being a moogle, kupo!" Isaac protested.

"Kaphepher," Eileen said.

"Whatever," Ben said at the same time, in the exact same tone.

"I hate you both, kupo."

"Oh, don't worry, we love you."

A human face, a bruised and swollen fur covered face, and a rice sack turned towards the noise. Standing in the doorway was the hunter who'd been in the camp earlier. Now that he saw the man closer, Isaac recognized him as the skilled figure from the dream he'd had, the one who'd set up Eileen and triggered her kidnapping.

"Alright, I'd like to begin by saying that's very creepy," Ben muttered, his voice flat.

In response, the hunter walked up to him, smirked, then raised his boot and stomped it on Ben's crotch.

"MOTHER OF ALMIGHTY MATEUS, _LET IT END_!" Ben screamed, before passing out.

_Crap, _Isaac thought, _now I have to deal with him alone. Dang it Ben, why do you always take a shot to the pills when I need you?_

The hunter approached Isaac, shaking his head and smirking, then stood over the moogle.

"Sorry about your friend. He's been yelling insults at my compatriots since he woke, and it's been getting annoying. I'm Cheney."

"Pleasure, kupo," Isaac said, trying to keep his voice steady for fear of unpleasantries.

Cheney waited a moment, before saying delicately, "You know, it's normally common manners to reply in kind when one gives you their name."

"Sorry, Cheney," Isaac said, "but there's got to be something you can keep secret, kupo."

"Understandable," the hunter replied. "But I'll get your name from you eventually. You see, my friend, Carla, you know, the bangaa who gave your friend the warm, hm, _reception_ when he dropped in on us? Well, she is a very well known torturer in the underworld. I won't got on about the details of her procedures, though, for I'm sure you and your friend will be getting acquainted with them soon enough." He paused for a moment, looking back at Isaac's hazelnut eyes. "You're sure you will not give us your name easily? We already know your friend, Ben, the thief of Cadoan, but you we've never seen before."

Isaac took a deep breath, making sure his voice wouldn't stutter. "I'm not going to give you the pleasure of cracking me without some effort, kupo."

"Admirable, but stupid." Cheney shrugged. "I'll send her in for you within the hour. Enjoy the wait."

With that, Cheney twirled around, letting his billowing cloak slap the moogle in the face.

"Ure uh shupih iggit," Eileen said from the corner.

"Oh, shut up, kupo," Isaac said, "you're not the one who's going to get tortured."

"Neither are you…" Ben's voice drifted weakly over from his little position between the hooks.

"Oh, Ben, kupo, how're you feeling?"

"Promise you'll kill me the next time somebody sacks me. Promise."

"Sure, whatever, kupo. What'd you mean by the whole, 'Neither are you' thing?"

"This," Ben said, reaching into the folds of his garments with his teeth and pulling out Cheney's skinning knife.

"How'd you get that, kupo?"

"I shtole it wit mah teeth," Ben said around the knife. "One shecond. Down't look."

Isaac closed his eyes as Ben worked the knife in his mouth, and spat it as hard as he could.

Isaac felt a small pressure on the bonds around his wrists, and a loud thudding noise. When he opened his eyes, he gazed up at his wrists and saw the knife stuck in the wood quite close to them.

"You could've warned me, kupo!" Isaac cried, shocked. "That thing could've slit one of my wrists!"

"Sorry, but you would've squirmed if I had. Just cut the ropes."

Isaac worked his wrists until they sliced the ropes. His top half fell to the ground, but he managed to catch himself with his hands. As quietly as he could, he let himself down, and then reached up and undid the ropes on his feet. He dropped to the ground, and walked over to Ben's side, quickly undoing his bonds, and then, Isaac supporting Ben as he limped along, they walked into the corner to get Eileen up.

Isaac pulled the sack off of Eileen's head, and gasped at her new appearance. Now, he finally understood Ben must have felt when he'd seen his new moogle face; the feeling that he knew this person, and yet at the same time that he'd never seen her before. Of course, he'd seen Thomas, but his face had been completely obscured by makeup. Now that he was faced with one of his old companions whose face wasn't human, he had to say that it was breathtaking.

Before him was the face of a young female nu mou. Her fur, an extremely light shade of grey, was well groomed and orderly, unlike Isaac's unkempt and ratty pelt. Her eyes had kept their emerald green colour from the old world, and they still held the knowledge, confidence, and curiosity, however, they also now resonated with boundless pure energy of some sort that Isaac had never seen.

"Wow," he muttered.

"What?" Eileen asked, sounding annoyed.

"Being a nu mou suits you," Ben said simply.

"Thank you. Now, would either of you mind getting the ropes off of my limbs? They're cutting off the circulation."

Isaac gazed over at Ben, and raised his eyebrows. "Yup, it's Eileen, kupo."

"Without a doubt."

"Ropes, people?"

Isaac and Ben set to work getting all the ropes off of Eileen, and there were many. After having to gnaw through his third knot, Isaac finally asked, "Darn it, Eileen, why do these guys fear you so much, kupo?"

"Because they have not prepared for any kind of magical attack other than some extremely feeble charms against Black magic, which will be useless."

"Oh yeah?" Ben asked as he limped over to the side of the wagon to retrieve the skinning knife. "Why's that?"

"Because I most definitely do _not _use black magic. I mean, do my eyes look stained yellow to you?"

Isaac actually gazed back over at those expressive emeralds, and found he couldn't speak for another few seconds. He turned quickly back to his knots, thanking Famfrit that his fur concealed the red of his cheeks. "Not at all, kupo."

"Hey, by the way," Eileen said, apparently not having noticed Isaac's reaction, "how did you manage to steal that knife? You said earlier that he heard you creeping in the trees and managed to hit you with almost a blind shot the other night. How could he have done that and not felt you stealing it."

"He wasn't wearing the cloak last night. It muffled the noise enough for me to take it."

"And why do you know how to steal something with your teeth?"

"So what kind of magic do you use?" Ben asked, changing the subject somewhat abruptly.

"I specialize in the field of Alchemy principally, and then also some Sagacity." To accentuate her words, Eileen finally stood up, stretching slightly. Her full majesty was revealed then. Her robes, which before had seemed like nothing but a few rags or sacs, now flowed and rolled as they billowed with the movement. The colour of her overrobe was a very dark colour of maroon, almost purple, and it covered most of her body in its folds. Underneath this cloak, which opened at the front, she wore a simple white dress, the collar of which was bent down over her robe to give a very proper and comfortable look. The sleeves of the two clothing pieces were huge, hanging down almost to her feet. Around her small fingers were many rings, and from the holes her ears dangled a pair of large rings, one silver, one gold. She was beautiful.

"But I thought that you needed to be certified to learn Alchemy?" Ben said, waking Isaac from his reverie.

"I am certified."

"Wait, kupo, you managed to get certified in _three months_?" Isaac exclaimed.

"What do you mean, three months?" Ben and Eileen asked at the same time.

Isaac was very confused as he continued. "You know, we've been here for three months now?"

"Um, no, Isaac," Ben said simply, "I've only been in the forest for three months, and I was in Cadoan and Sprohm for about four before that."

"When did you two hit your heads?" Eileen asked.

"About three times since I got here falling down impossibly high distances, kupo," Isaac interrupted.

"Alright, you've got some explaining to do on that one. I've been in this world for five months in total."

They were quiet for a good minute then. Finally, Ben said, "Well, while this is beyond screwed up in every aspect, and it definitely requires further incite, but right now, I have two comments. You got certified in _five months_?"

"Yes," Eileen said simply as she brushed a few extra ropes off of her robes and straightened them.

"I'm impressed."

"Thanks."

"And secondly, we should probably be beating a hasty retreat soon. Right now, between us, we've got the clothes on our back and not a weapon to our names."

"Oh, we've got a weapon," Eileen said, a glint in her eye.

"What do you mean, kupo?"

"We've got a weapon," Eileen said, her voice steel.

Ben gazed over at Isaac, and raised his eyebrows. "Yup, it's Eileen."

"Yeah, I know, kupo," Eileen said, annoyed. "Let's just roll."

"What are we going to do, kupo?"

"Well," came a cool familiar voice from the entrance to the wagon, "I sssssay that you shouldn't try anything."

They turned to see the female bangaa from the night before standing in the doorway, their supposed torturer, Carla.

Without a word, all three of them sprung into action. Eileen raised her hands towards Carla, and a ball of pure water flew at her face, knocking her off her balance. Behind the ball of water came a small ball of fur, Isaac, throwing himself towards her legs and knocking her forward. Ben rushed in to catch her fall, turning her body in his hands so that he held her in a strong headlock. She flailed slightly in her grasp.

"You wanna try to hit me in the crotch now?" he asked, looking into her terrified eyes. "Huh?"

"Ben, what are you doing, kupo?" Isaac asked, slightly frightened by his tone.

"Well, I intend to let her live until she passes out, and then I'll snap her neck. How's that sound, Carla?" he asked.

"Ben, calm down, think about this…"

Carla let out a gurgling noise, and it reminded Isaac of something a long time ago, on a ship with three visitors, hanging from a powerful bangaa's hand by his neck, the air restricted…

Carla passed out, and Ben, with a satisfied smirk on his face, dropped her, completely unharmed.

He looked up at the other two. "Sorry about that. I needed to scare somebody."

"Sure, just avoid creeping me out like that again," Eileen said.

"Ditto, kupo."

"Okay, let's get going then," Ben said, looking up at the roof of the wagon. He began stepping up onto the lid of a barrel, then winced and fell back. "Oh _god _I've taken way too many shots to the pills in the past twenty four hours. Isaac, grab her sword and get up onto my shoulders."

Ben knelt down, and Isaac climbed up onto his back, steadying himself as the human stood up. He reached up with the sword, surprised by how awkward it felt in his hand. Unlike the blades he normally used, which were short, wide, thin and somewhat blunt at the end, the sword was thick and tapered down to a point, with the edges less sharp on the sides. Shaking off the unfamiliarity of the weapon, he stabbed the sword into the roof and began sawing through the hard surface.

Just before he was about to finish the hole, Isaac looked down at Eileen and said, "Here, catch it." He waited until she was in position, and then finished the hole, letting the clumsy circle of roofing fall into Eileen's waiting hands. She put it down softly on the ground as Isaac got down.

"Alright, kupo, who goes up first? I can fly up, so I don't really need any help."

"In that case, I will go up first, so that I can help Ben in his," Eileen cleared her throat, grinning, "condition."

"I hate you two," Ben said.

"Yeah, kupo, I know, let's just roll." Eileen smirked then. "You know, we could be a bad comedy act."

"At a different time in a different world. Right now, get up on my shoulders. Isaac, get up there so that you can help her."

Soon, the three were on the roof, laying out flat so that those around them wouldn't see them. They were reaching what appeared to be the fringes of the Koringwood, for the trees were still the same sort, however they were much, much smaller, and there was a beaten path.

"So, uh, where do we go from here?" Ben asked.

"What, kupo, you mean you didn't have a plan?"

"Hey, I got us this far. Why don't you come up with something, seeing as you're a genious," he said, turning to Eileen.

"I've already got one."

"Oh, well then, what is it?"

"Do either of you know how to ride chocobos?"

"I've been too busy learning how to do almost every other thing known to man, bangaa, viera, moogle or nu mou," Ben muttered, gazing over at Isaac.

"Sorry, kupo, chocobo riding isn't exactly important on an airship."

"You were on an airship?" Eileen asked, incredulous.

"That's where I've been working the past three months, kupo."

"Yeah, the three of us definitely need to talk," Ben interrupted, "but right now, Eileen, your plan, please?"

"Of course. Pretty much, seeing as you two can't ride chocobos, we're going to hijack this wagon in a manner as fast and brutal as possible, then I'll take the reigns of the chocobo and get us out of here as fast as possible. There are two other chocobos that the others will be riding, so you'll have to fight them off while I'm steering."

"While your plan is amazing," Ben said, "there's a small problem. I don't think that I can quite manage 'fast and brutal' right now, if you know what I mean, and I doubt that Isaac can take out the guard on his own, without a single weapon."

"Who said that Isaac would be the one dealing with the guard?" Eileen asked, smiling innocently, and then worming her way towards the front of the wagon.

Ben looked over at Isaac. "Mateus, I hate her sometimes."

The two inched up until they were next to Eileen. She peered over the lip, and smirked.

"Isaac, what kind of weapons do you use?"

"Guns and blades, kupo. I'm better with guns."

"Excellent," she said, rubbing her hands together, "we may have hit the jackpot."

With that, she slipped off of the edge and down into the rider's seat of the wagon, chanting a few words as she went. There was a yelled, "Kupokupo!", and then Isaac went over the edge after her, remembering what Eileen had said about 'fast and brutal'. He saw that Eileen had effectively blown away the moogle who'd been standing guard by there tent, casting some sort of a wind spell to knock him off the edge of the wagon. However, she seemed to have managed to grab his weapon while he was flying away, and she passed it to him.

"Is this a good enough gun?" she asked, holding it up for him.

Isaac grabbed it. The gun had a longer barrel than he was used to, but it seemed just as good as any other. "Did you grab his ammo, kupo?"

"Nope, but if I know that moogle, he probably wasn't wearing it… yeah, it's right here." She reached under the seat and passed the belt to him. "He was always a lazy bugger."

At that moment, Ben landed next to them, hitting the boards rather hard. "Oh Mateus, the _pain!_" He looked up then, and asked, "Well, uh, shouldn't we get rolling?"

"Hold on tight," Eileen said simply, and she flicked the reins which were attached to the chocobo's beak. The great beast let out a warble, and charged forward.

"Watch out, kupo!" Isaac yelled, pointing at the three or four members of the hunting party who'd managed to pull out in front of them to form a barrier.

"Hey, I'm riding something bigger than them; it is they who must watch out."

Apparently, the members of the blockade agreed, for as the wagon approached at a violently dangerous speed, they all scattered. They rushed on past the would-be guards, bumping up and down on the rough path.

"Darn it Eileen, slow down, you're gonna get us killed!" Ben yelled as they bounced from a hole in the road.

"Maybe I'd be able to slow down if it weren't for the two chocobos chasing us!" she yelled back. "Wasn't that supposed to be your jobs?"

"Right," Isaac said, grabbing a bullet from the belt and popping it into his gun, "sorry about that, kupo."

"Watch out for Cheney," Eileen cautioned. "That guy's good, and he knows some abilities that could literally destroy you."

Isaac nodded, took a breath to calm down a bit, then popped his head over the top of the wagon. He had just enough time to see the two chocobos and their riders behind them, charging all out towards them, before he was forced to throw his head down to dodge an arrow.

"That guy's good, kupo! He barely even saw me for a second, and he almost got me!"

"Hey, I hired the best in the business."

"You _hired_ these people?" Ben exclaimed, as he reached down to attach the veil he liked to wear during battle. "Why?"

"To recover a theft."

"What theft?" Ben asked as Isaac jumped up and pulled off one shot before jumping back down.

"Some bloody thief with his face covered with fabric stole a map of great value to me," she said simply, holding tight to the reins.

Ben stopped, dead in his tracks. "Uh, what kind of a map?"

"It was very powerful. It had all the physiological features, along with population markings, maps of cities, trade routes…"

"Um," Ben said tentatively, finally finishing up with the attachment of his veil. "How much was this map worth?"

"Oh, very, very much. More than I'd make in a year, you see…" she dwindled off as she looked over at him with his veil on. "Oh Ultima. I recognize that veil."

"Just as you should."

There was silence for a moment, aside from Isaac's yells of challenge and annoyance as he pulled off occasional shots and dodged arrows from the excessively skilled hunter.

"Sorry?"

"You stole my map!"

"Oh come on, I didn't know it was yours!"

"Still, you stole it! Do you know how difficult it was convincing the council of Alchemy to let me come out here and try to retrieve it?"

"Hey, I had no idea that it was _that _expensive!"

"Well where is it now?"

"Well, Isaac and I grabbed it while we were leaving my home, and I had it before they caught me…" He checked himself quickly, hoping past hope that it was there. "Er, they must've taken it from me while I was unconscious?"

"I hate coincidences."

"And I hate being outskilled and outgunned in a fight, kupo!" Isaac exclaimed as he ducked down again. "This is bloody ridiculous! How am I supposed to hit him when he doesn't give me time to get a bead on him?" He looked at his two friends, frightened for a moment, and asked in a quiet voice, "What're you two talking about, kupo?"

"You know that map I stole?"

"Yeah, the one you stole from that alchemist, ku—" Isaac stopped. "Oh."

They were all quiet a few moments as the chaos continued around them, and as arrows thudded into the back of the wagon.

"Hey, I just wanted to ask you, kupo, before I found out that, uh, yeah, well, do the chocobos they're riding have any kinds of protection?"

"Only one of them. Cheney's, well, his will probably be better protected than Prince Mewt's. Why?"

A glint came to Isaac's eye, and he said, "No particular reason."

Ben looked over at Eileen. "You know that feeling you're getting as you're look at his face right now? That's the way that _we _feel whenever _you_ start thinking."

"Oh," she said, a thoughtful look coming to her face. "I like it."

"I'll be right back, kupo," Isaac said.

With that, he spun around to face the back of the wagon, and drew out one more bullet, putting it into the gun and pulling back the cock. Then, he took a deep breath, stopping his thoughts just to feel the sheer chaos and horrid fear of the moment. He passed all of these feelings into his bullet, and then, knowing he had very little time to make his action before the feelings drained from the bullet, and popped up.

He brought the site down upon the second chocobo, the one Cheney wasn't targeting.

He pulled the trigger, and knew it had hit.

The bullet smashed into the chocobo's hide.

The emotions smashed into the chocobo's mind.

The chocobo reared up, suddenly having no idea what was happening, knowing only fear.

The rider fell off the back of the chocobo.

Isaac ducked beneath the wagon as the arrow from Cheney's bow hit the wood, laughing hysterically at the drive of the adrenaline in his veins. Ben and Eileen stared at him as though he were mad, but that simply made Isaac double over.

"You're too happy for having just been shot at."

"What can I say, kupo?" Isaac asked. "There's something different about fighting somebody who I can't even see, kupo. We both know it's luck as much as skill, it makes me feel… alive."

"Alright, you've spent far too much time in the clouds, little moogle," Ben said. "But you say that you can't get a shot at Cheney?"

"No, he's too good at this, kupo."

"Alright, I'll try to scare him off of our tail," Ben said. He got up to his feet, and winced. "I'm not going to be very fast. Do you mind drawing his fire for me?"

"I'm on it, kupo."

Isaac loaded his stolen gun again, and then popped up over the safety of the wagon's top. Instantly, a whizzing noise came in, and Isaac jumped over to the side, shocked to find that the wood chips from the impact hit him in the face. This guy was getting _way _too close.

He raised his gun, and pulled his shot. Then, from the corner of his eye, he saw the bright blue light of Ben's magic activating. The flash dissipated, and Isaac watched the blue twister of energy flowing through Cheney and his chocobo. He smirked with satisfaction.

Thus, he didn't hear the whiz of the arrow, as it flew towards his face. Ben, fortunately, did, and he grabbed Isaac around his small legs and yanked him down with all his strength. This avoided any major injury, but it did graze across the top of his head. Heat exploded across the line of blood which appeared, and Isaac cried out.

"Isaac, are you alright?" the blue mage asked, ripping off a piece of his shirt to staunch the small flow of blood.

"Yeah, it's not that bad, kupo, it just hurts. Did you hit Cheney? Did it work?"

"I hit him," Ben muttered. "Didn't work."

"Great. How long will that chocobo last, kupo?"

"Much longer than ours will," Eileen said grimly. "It's stronger, and it's not carrying our added weight, only Cheney."

"So what are our options, kupo?"

"I'd tell you to keep fighting and hope for some luck, but after that graze, I don't want to risk it…"

"If I don't, kupo, we'll all get captured, tortured and probably worse," Isaac muttered grimly. "Let's roll."

Isaac popped up again, pulling off a shot. He ducked, knowing it was useless. He'd just run out of ammo eventually. Isaac loaded, jumped, fired, ducked. Soon he had settled into a rhythm, trying to hit at least once, get one lucky shot. He tried an ice and a fireshot, but it did nothing.

Isaac, deciding to try hitting something above him or something, looked around the side this time, and fired, missed. He was about to drop back behind, when a massive roaring noise came from the foliage, and something flew at Cheney from the side, something big, furry, and red…?

"Stop the wagon!" Isaac yelled.

Without question, Eileen pulled the chocobo up quickly. Ben popped up next to Isaac to stare, and said simply, "Oh Mateus _no_."

Topier had appeared out of nowhere, it seemed, to tackle Cheney and his chocobo to the ground. The brave panther was scratching, biting and tearing at the big bird, sending feathers flying all over the place, as the bird tried feebly to peck at him. Cheney was still on the chocobo's back, trying to find a shot past the thrashing bird at Topier.

"Come on!" Ben yelled, and he grabbed the sword Isaac had used to stab through the roof and jumped off the wagon. Isaac leaped after him, and then they were running to try and save the brave bird.

Topier, meanwhile, had found a purchase on the chocobo, and a good one at that. He was holding onto the bird's neck with his teeth, ripping and tearing with his claws and throwing blood everywhere. He held on strong as the bird flailed, its throes getting weaker and weaker, until it stopped moving.

The cat then got up, and paced around the bird to finish Cheney, but was surprised to see that Cheney was no longer there. He had gotten himself up, and was standing down the path from him, with his bow drawn back at full, pointed at him.

"Run, kitty," the hunter said through gritted teeth.

Topier turned and ran, knowing that he would be dead before he could possibly get at the human.

"I love it when they put up a fight," Cheney said, an evil smirk on his face, and then he began focusing his energies.

Ben and Isaac felt it as they were running forward to save Topier. As if everything were dimming, and that all of matter were refocusing its attention upon the unmoving form of Cheney, or more exactly, upon his greatbow.

Then, Cheney fired his arrow, an arrow which, as it thundered across the distance between himself and the brave panther, reflected both light and sound, defied time, reality, and any other physical law, glimmering in its own sun of energy, slashing through Topier's skin, releasing that energy.

There was a blinding flash, and the horrible reek of burnt flesh. Then, once everybody's sight had returned, there was nothing but a burnt patch in the ground where Topier had been.

"_NO!_" Ben screamed, charging all-out at Cheney, apparently having forgotten that he still held his bow.

Isaac saw how suicidal this was, and ran after him, hoping to stop him from getting himself killed. He reached Ben's side just as Cheney let fly, and threw his body at the human. His weight couldn't get Ben totally out of the way of the arrow, but it was enough to keep it from ripping through Ben's heart, and instead piercing his shoulder and pushing through the other side. Ben cried out, but kept trying to charge, stumbling over himself.

Isaac drew level with him again, knowing that the only way Ben would stop was if either he or Cheney died, or if he were knocked out. With that thought, Isaac drew his gun from its position in his belt, and cracked Ben over the head with it. From both the weakening of the blood loss and the pressure, Ben went down, passing out almost instantly. Isaac knelt next to him, grabbing his uninjured arm and draping it over his own shoulder, beginning to drag him back.

"Stop right there."

Cheney stood behind him, with his greatbow drawn all the way back again.

"You're a fine shot, I must say," the hunter told him. "But your friend's stupid. You should learn to let go of the ones you love, that way you won't get into any situations like this."

"Sorry, kupo," Isaac gritted his teeth, "but personally I'd rather die standing beside him than alone after suffering from my guilt for years."

"Honourable, moogle. You seem to be a creature of values. In that sense, we are not so different, you and I."

"Oh please, kupo," Isaac said, his voice dripping sarcasm, "are we actually going to have this conversation? I mean, seriously, I know they do it in all of the books and movies, but are you actually going to try to convince me to join you, kupo? 'Cause the answer's no."

"Too bad," Cheney said, and then all of matter began leaning in around him again…

"_Aufflackern_!" Eileen screamed.

Cheney's eyes shot open in fear, and then the ground beneath him erupted with flames spilling forth and upward from the earth. They burnt him horribly, and lifted him off of his feet flying backwards down the path. He landed on his rump about four metres back from where he started from, wincing in pain.

Isaac spun to stare at Eileen, shocked at such a display of power. She stood on the top of the wagon's roof, and the first thing he noticed was that she had put on her hat. Not just any hat, though, this hat was different from any ordinary one. This hat was the official article of clothing of Alchemy. It was the exact same shade as her robes, but for the white brim and the white band which went around the base of the hat. On this band was the true reason that it made the power and the confidence in her eyes radiate as it did: the Third Eye, the symbol of Alchemy and the pursuit of knowledge.

Eileen held her hands before her, one pointed at the ground where the gout of flame had burst from, the other lifted to the heavens in a cupped shape.

"Leave, Cheney. You won't survive the next blast." Her voice was so strong and dominating that Isaac took a step back in fear.

Cheney looked about ready to say something back, but then Eileen began saying, "Auf…"

Cheney ran as fast as he could down the road.

Isaac looked back to Eileen again, and called out, "Ben's hurt!"

"Then get him over here," Eileen said, weariness apparent in her voice.

Isaac shouldered Ben, who was now probably four times his weight, and dragged him as gently as he could towards the wagon, being careful to avoid letting his wounded shoulder touch the ground.

By the time he reached the wagon, he was exhausted from the sheer exertion of it. He looked up over the lip of the wagon, and called up, "Eileen, please, kupo, I need some help with this!"

"Alright," Eileen said, coming out of the back, panting. "I assume this is yours?"

She tossed him his fedora. "Where'd you find this, kupo?" he asked as he plopped the modified hat over his ears and head.

"Apparently they left all of our clothing in the back of the wagon. Here, pass me Ben's arm. You push him up, and I'll pull him from this side."

They got him up with little difficulty, then put him in the back of the wagon amongst some of the softer bags. Isaac dressed his injury as best as he could while Eileen got them moving again. Once Isaac had staunched the blood flow as well as he could and tied a tight bandage around the shoulder, he walked out into the front the wagon and sat beside Eileen.

"What was that ability he used back there?" was the first thing which popped out of Isaac's mouth.

"Well," Eileen began darkly, "I think he might know how to use one of the Ultima magics."

"_Ultima, _kupo?" Isaac asked. During his times on the _Torrent_, Foobar had taught him about the legendary Ultima magics, great powers which cost the user extraordinary amounts of energy, but the damage of which were unparalleled. There were few who'd ever even seen one of the Ultima magics activated.

"Yes. I told you that I hired the best in the business."

"Right, kupo. And, if you don't mind me asking of course, what was that spell you just used on him?"

"Ah, that," Eileen rolled her eyes. "Just a powerful spell called Flare. One of my research partners, a sage, taught me how to use a couple of the big time attack spells in case I ever needed them. The version of Flare he knows is called Giga Flare." She shook her head. "You should see it."

They were quiet after that. Soon night fell, and Isaac lit a torch using a branch from the woods and a fireshot. He felt that he had to say _something, _but looking over at Eileen, he realised that he didn't. Eileen had always been the one he could come to when he just needed some company. Sometimes they didn't even speak, but he knew that during their silences they learned more about each other than they did from their conversations.

So, leaning back for comfort, with his loaded gun ready laying in his lap, Isaac let the time pass him by, feeling both totally exhausted and totally contented at the same time.


	15. Robbery

"Oh, don't worry, just go on through," the guard said to Eileen.

"Thank you, sir. Come along now, old one," she said, patting Ben on the back slowly.

With that, Isaac, Ben, and Eileen made their way under the gates of the great city of Cadoan, the Seat of Knowledge. They continued on past the heavily guarded entrance, going slowly as Ben limped. It pained all of them to move so slowly, seeing as Ben was wanted for multiple charges of theft, Isaac was wanted for suspected treason to the crown, and Eileen was in deep trouble with the Council of Alchemy, but they didn't have a choice. Mainly, for the same reasons as those that they wanted to move faster. If they moved any faster, it would be suspicious.

Soon, the three of them rounded a corner, and they quickened their pace somewhat. However, they didn't move at their normal speed until they had gone a few more streets and turned into a narrow, shadowed alleyway. As soon as they were in the safety of the shadows, Ben whipped off the long improvised cloak made of rice sacks, and rubbed his hair roughly.

"Alright, I understand that we needed to make me look old to get in here, but did you have to rub all that bloody sand in my hair?"

"Oh, it was totally necessary," Eileen said matter-of-factly. "Your hair had to be grey in case they pulled the hood of the cloak back." She stopped, reaching into her pocket and grabbing her alchemist's hat, placing it carefully on her head. "Also, I felt like rubbing dirt in your face."

"You're really annoying sometimes, you realise that?"

"Hey, I could've gotten us in without all the hustle if it weren't for the fact that _someone _took that map."

"Are you ever going to get over that?"

"Probably not."

"Okay, kupo," Isaac muttered, annoyed, as he grabbed the cloak and began using it as a towel to scrape grime out of his fur. "I understand that you wanted to annoy Ben, kupo, but seriously, did you have to use that bloody clay stuff to make my fur white?"

"Absolutely," Eileen said, seriously this time. "Ninety-five percent of moogles have white fur, only five have brown. Your fur really singles you out amongst other moogles. Now, give me that cloak."

She grabbed it from him, pulling her official robes out of it. She threw them around the dirty travelling smock she was wearing, then tossed the cloak, laden with their personal effects, back to Isaac.

"Get your things. We have to get to my residence and grab as much money as we can before the Council of Alchemy raids it to cut their losses on the map. You said that all of your saved up money is in Baguba, Isaac?"

"Yes," Isaac said, grabbing his vest and his fedora. "They keep a bank specifically for airship crew members at most of the pubs, kupo. Hey, do you think I should wear my ammo under my vest for concealment, or over for easier access?"

"I'd go for concealment," Ben said. "I might be able to get at some of my old stashes, but that's only if the thieves' guild hasn't already found them and placed them under surveillance."

"Just one thing, kupo," Isaac said, now fully outfitted in his customary gear. "What do we do if we can't get any gil from your places?"

"We either get Ben to steal enough money to get us equipment and then fight for money…" Eileen said.

"Or we go back for Eileen's map and revenge." Ben interrupted through gritted teeth. "I like that idea more."

"Do you actually think we stand a chance against Cheney alone, kupo?" Isaac asked. "The only reason we escaped was because we outran the rest of his crew and then got lucky."

"As I was going to say," Eileen said as they stepped out into the light, "or we can go and stay with one of my friends."

The three stepped out, their stride much longer and faster now. It was as though the three hadn't been apart during their time in the new world. Eileen walked in the lead, everyone giving her, or more specifically the third eye on her hat, a wide berth. Ben kept his eyes flashing around them, watching for any slight reaction, the smallest hint of recognition. Isaac walked faster than the other to keep up, and kept his eyes on all of the rooftops. Given their collective pasts, they were expecting anything, anywhere.

Probably a good thing too, if useless. For, despite their great amounts of caution, somebody was watching them. None of them saw him, none of them suspected it, but he _saw…_

………………………………………………………………………………………………

At about six that evening, Isaac, Ben, and Eileen were ready to get into Eileen's apartment. They had found it earlier that day, but it, as Eileen had feared, was in the process of being searched for objects of worth.

"Great, what are we going to do now, kupo?" Isaac cursed.

"Let's leave for now," Eileen suggested.

"No," Ben interrupted. "Wait until the fall of dark. Isaac, you go up there," he pointed up at a nearby rooftop with an extra spire attached to it, "and Eileen, just in case I need you to help me get out, you wait in that alley across from your door. Don't be seen."

"What are you going to do?" Eileen asked.

"I'm robbing you. I've done it once before, I'll do it again."

Now Isaac was perched up on top of that spire. It would've been cold up there without his fur, but as it was, he felt more or less comfortable. He was watching the roof of the small building which Eileen used to live in, with its skylight in the top. Ben was just pulling off the glass from this skylight, and preparing to throw a rope over the edge. It was Isaac's job to make sure nobody who saw Ben in the house remembered it. As Ben began lowering himself down the rope, so, taking a deep breath, Isaac drew a bullet, and pushed it into the gun, cocking it.

The next few moments were the most tense of Isaac's young life. All he could do was wait, and watch the two or three guards walking around, prepared to fire on any of them that might just see a shadow, or a slight movement, or anything that would alert them to Ben's presence. There were many times when he found himself about to shoot as a guard turned quickly and unexpectedly, only to find that they were responding to the call of one of their fellows.

It was while he was waiting for Ben to show that his strange little encounter occurred. He was watching, just as he was supposed to, when he became suddenly aware of something, something strange. A presence, somewhere nearby, somewhere…

"Greetings, moogle." Right next to his _ear_…!

"What do you want, kupo?" Isaac asked, trying as hard as possible to hold his voice steady without stuttering.

"I just want to inform you of the company which you keep," the voice said, low and even. "This Ben character in particular."

"I know a good kupo enough amount about him to trust him, kupo."

"Well then, you know very little…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked. From the voice, the person he was talking to was definitely human… too low for a moogle, too smooth for a bangaa, too masculine for a vierra, too high for a nu mou.

"I mean that petty thievery isn't all that his record is limited to, not only in the legal manner, but also the illegal manner. In short, nobody supports him in this city, no matter social class, age, sex, policy, legal orientation, anything. If you're dealing with him, then you're going to die."

"Anything else, kupo?" Isaac asked, gritting his teeth and nearly spitting the 'kupo'.

"Yeah, actually. That death? It'll probably be rather painful and brutal. Farewell, then, young moogle."

And with that, the presence was gone. It was almost as if the only reason Isaac had been able to sense it was because the intruder had let him. The entire occurrence had confused him greatly, and had also left him breathless, somewhat.

Fortunately, at that point, he heard a noise down below. He looked, and saw Ben on the inside of the building, on the top floor, running all-out. As he went, Ben grabbed the rope he'd climbed down on, and swung on it, catapulting himself over the edge of the skylight.

"Aw crud, kupo," Isaac muttered. "I've missed something."

With nothing better to do, Isaac raised his gun, and waited for the first guard to emerge. When that face showed, Isaac pulled the trigger, and hit it smack dab in the middle. The face retreated back into the cover of the heavy wooden door. That's when Isaac got an idea.

He looked down at Eileen, situated in the alley below him, and called out, "Hey, kupo, do you want to keep this place just in case?"

"No, it holds no sentimental or literal value for me."

"Sweet!" Isaac yelled. The next instant, he could feel the fire in his veins, the adrenaline of the moment turning to burning energy, siphon down into the gun. He poured as much into the shot as he could as he could, and, for some reason, Isaac felt that something in the gun was drinking it in greedily and pushing the fire on through the barrel with the bullet, to the tip…

Isaac's head rocked by as he released the shot, surprised by the force. As the flaming bullet shot forth, he reflexively braced for the jumping discharge. However, he was in no way prepared for the amount it jumped. As it bounced in his hand, he felt a cracking pain shoot through his wrist and arm. He bent over double, dropping the gun to the ground far below, and grabbing his hand protectively. He looked up for a moment, just in time to see the flaming bullet slam into the wood of the building.

_Fwoosh!_

There was an explosion. A small one, but an explosion none the less. Isaac stared at the leaping flames in horror. A normal fireshot was just on fire; a normal bullet, plus a few flames. The odds were that it wouldn't even light anything. It was more used for flare and effect than for added damage. However, as soon as that bullet had hit, the entire room had burst into flames!

"Oh Famfrit!" Isaac yelled, running to grab the rope he'd used to get to the rope he'd used to climb up with his right hand, his shooting hand. As he grabbed it, however, pain raced up through it and he cried out, losing his grip and slipping off the edge of the roof into open space.

On reflex, Isaac's wings opened the moment he felt that the ground and his feet weren't in contact with each other. Having gotten quite used to falling and slowing his fall to a survivable speed, he knew that he had to spread his limbs out to catch as much drag as possible. He began to do this, but his right wrist instantly protested, and he had to pull it back in and grab it with his left.

He knew that in this position, he didn't have a chance of survival. _Oh crap, _he thought, more annoyed than anything, _I survived falling a couple hundred metres twice, and now I'm going to die falling off of a bloody three-story building?_

Fortunately, at that point a strong wind caught his small wings, a wind strong enough to lift him up partially and slow his decent greatly. Isaac looked down, and saw that Eileen was circling one hand round and round while holding the other pointed directly at him. Her eyes were shut, and her lips were moving slowly as she chanted.

Isaac touched down lightly beside Eileen, who stopped her chanting and looked up at him, sweat beads building on her forehead.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, thanks, kupo."

"Hey guys?" Ben asked running up next to them. "I think we should be going! The authorities are showing up, and somebody's summoned a judge!"

"But what about the people in the building, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"They will get out," Eileen assured him. "I had that building spelled against fire a few times, so it should spread slowly. They will have more than enough time."

Isaac nodded, and they started moving, with Isaac still clutching his right hand to his chest.

They went about ten blocks, trying to act as normal as possible, taking frightened looks backwards at the fire. Once they felt they'd gone far enough, the three found another dark alleyway, and there they stopped.

"Alright, let's assess everything," Eileen said. "Ben, what did you get?"

"Off of the guards I managed to get about fifteen hundred gil. Then, from one of your armoires, I got you this," he passed her a heavy mace, "and I also managed to grab a couple weapons off of the guards. A pair of knives for me, and a blade for Isaac." He gave Isaac the blade, one which had a slightly jagged edge to it which Isaac identified as an Atmos model. Isaac reached out to take it gingerly with his left hand.

"Hey, what did you do to your hand?" Eileen asked, noticing it for the first time.

"When I let that fireshot out it let out a much larger jump than usual, kupo. For that matter, it kind of exploded a kupo _lot _bigger than usual."

"Let me see that," Eileen said, taking his wrist in her hands and feeling along it. "Fractured. That must have been one heck of a jump. Show me your gun."

Isaac passed it over, awkwardly grabbing it with his left hand. Eileen sat down on the ground and began to pull parts off of the gun and look at them closely. This left Isaac and Ben alone for a moment, and Isaac remembered the voice he'd heard. He felt he should ask him about it, but couldn't. It would seem too much like he didn't trust him.

"So, kupo, you've got a lot of history here? On the wrong side of the law?"

"You could say that," Ben said, attaching his knives to a belt on his back. "Though in all truth, I've done a good bit of good for this city, too."

"How so?"

"Well, when I left the criminal world, heh," he drew a knife, and tested its edge, "I left with a bang."

"How big of a bang, kupo?" Isaac asked, being careful with his voice.

"Enough to cripple my guild for at least a month."

"Then they're back up by now, kupo?"

"Whoa yeah."

"And we're in lots of danger from them, kupo?"

"Whoa yeah."

"How much?"

"Probably better if I don't tell you," Ben said casually, tossing the knife up and catching it by its point. "You'd have nightmares. I know I did for the first two weeks after I left."

Isaac decided to let it drop at that.

"Well, I think that I can see what the problem is," Eileen announced. "This gun is spelled to enhance the power of fire. You threw a lot into that shot, and it multiplied it by a lot." She offered it to Isaac.

Isaac, however, waved his hand at it. "That thing is far too dangerous. For me, kupo, and for anybody else."

"Good call," Ben agreed, "but just keep it for now. We might need it; just don't use any fireshots."

Reluctantly, Isaac took the gun in his left hand and placed it into its holster. Then he looked up at the other two, and said simply, "What next?"

"First, I think we should heal that arm. Ben?"

"I'm on it," Ben said, and the blue light came up around his eyes. He pointed his hand at the arm, and white wind flowed to it.

"Next, it's time we met my old pal," Eileen said.

"And who _is_ this friend?" Ben asked. "You're doing that annoying thing when you don't give us details again."

"His name," Eileen said with a smile as they stepped out into streets, Isaac testing out his healed hand, "is Ezel Berbier."


	16. Late Night Duel with an Old Friend

"Alright, I just need to warn you, alright?" Eileen said, just outside of a large gate with a glance at Isaac. The gate looked as though it were made of pure, clear, crystal, however, Isaac couldn't see through it. As the moon's rays struck it, they reflected off in every single colour Isaac could imagine, so that the gate seemed to be impenetrable to sight. "I assume that Ben's told you something about the architecture of this city, right?"

"He's told me a bit," Isaac responded, distracted by the designs that the pale light playing through his fur made.

"Good. In short, you won't be able to think for a few seconds after you walk in there. It's that amazing. Just keep walking and letting us lead you. Got it?"

"Yes, though it can't be _that _good, kupo."

"You're so naïve and young in the ways of this world," Ben muttered, shaking his head solemnly.

"Note to self, kupo, kill the blue mage in the night."

"No time right now. This gate leads to the upscale area of the town where the politicians and richer mages live. It's also where all the office buildings, universities, academies, institutes and the like are situated. Trust me, what you're about to see is impossible."

With that, the three stepped through the gate, and just as Eileen had said, he couldn't think for a second or two.

All the buildings before they'd stepped through the gate had been mostly normal. Huts, houses, occasional larger buildings for wealthier citizens. But now, this, oh _this_ didn't even exist within the realm of comprehension!

There were buildings here that shouldn't have existed. Seriously. Isaac saw one building which looked somewhat like an explosion or maybe an apple core, with the base being wide, and then suddenly sweeping inward until there were several metres which were barely even a centimetre wide, before swooping back out into a large canopy-like top where the actual house was. Next to that was another house which was shaped like an eight-sided, totally black obsidian pyramid. Blue, purple and green flames lifted softly off of its surface into the night, casting a ghostly light around the area.

"Uh, Isaac?" Ben muttered.

"Kupo?" Isaac responded, not paying attention.

"This is the part when you start moving."

"Oh, right, kupo, okay then," Isaac babbled softly as Ben and Eileen each grabbed one of his shoulders and pulled him along. Isaac stumbled beside them, gazing at each wonder of impossibility and magic as it passed.

Isaac suddenly became aware that his companions were speaking.

"So, do you know where Ezel's hiding himself right now?" Ben asked quietly.

"Of course. He only changes hideouts once a month, and I've only been gone about a week looking for you."

"Where was he hiding last?"

"Just wait and see. You'll love it."

"I'd darn well better love it more than his last one. It sucked having to get into that hole in the ground."

"He needed it. You must know how many men the palace has on him." She glanced down at Isaac for a moment, who was staring wide-eyed at a building which was missing a third and fourth floor between the second and fifth. "Do you think the moogle is going to be able to blink anytime soon?"

"Meh, I couldn't," Ben muttered. "Could you?"

"Very good point."

The trio continued deeper into the core of the city, with Ben and Eileen more or less dragging Isaac along between them. As they went, the structures became more and more amazing and usually less and less possible. It all seemed impossible to Isaac. He had to keep prying his eyes away from one building to stare at another even more beautiful one right next to it. One building was simply two giant semi-spheres, one with its flat portion on the ground, the other balancing on top of it on its curved surface. Next to it was a house made of ice. While this may not seem impressive, considering the fact that in Ivalicean cities was usually somewhere around twenty-five degrees Celsius, it was darn amazing.

Soon the three left the comparatively simple houses behind and were in amongst the colleges. These were truly magnificent. One appeared to be a massive glowing blue bubble, connected to dozens of other smaller glowing blue bubbles on the grounds by long, bubbly, airborne paths. The grounds themselves of this institute were impressive as well. The grass (normally impossible in the near-desert terrain of Cadoan) was all very neat and tidy, and the blue light radiated off of the bubbles to blanket the grass in their colour. At that point, Isaac refused to go any further; he had to stare at it for a while.

"This is going to take all night!" Ben complained, glancing about worriedly. "And this isn't even the nicest of them! We're definitely going to get caught by _somebody._"

"Well what do you suggest we do?" Eileen asked, taking a glance back at Isaac, who wasn't moving at all.

In response, Ben pointed at Eileen's hip.

She smiled evilly.

She walked quietly up behind Isaac, then brought the mace Ben had gotten for her, the one she wore at her hip, lightly down on his head.

After a moment of stunned silence (or just normal silence from staring at the structure, you never know), Isaac crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

"Would you mind carrying him?" Eileen asked, starting to walk away.

Ben grumbled for a bit, then simply grabbed Isaac and slung his small body over his shoulder.

Once Ben caught up to Eileen, she asked him, "So, how heavy _is _a moogle?"

"Despite what you may think, surprisingly lots," he muttered.

"Uh, if you do not mind me asking," Eileen asked quietly, "why are you so frightened of being outside after dark?"

"Not being _outside_, per say," Ben told her, shrugging Isaac into a more comfortable position, "and not night. Just in the city in general."

"Well, my question still stands. Why?"

"Bad memories I'd rather not have come back at me," Ben said, and quickened his pace.

"_Please_," Eileen muttered, "all you did was steal a few things. Nothing could have been worse than the map. The law would go easy on you if you were to…"

"It's not the law I'm afraid of. It's those against the law that I need to worry about."

Eileen had to run to catch up to him. "Why, what could be that bad?"

"I'd rather not talk about it."

"You've been in this world longer than either of us, Ben," Eileen told him. "We understand that that means you've had greater potential to do horrible things, but seriously, what could…"

"Drop it, please."

"Why?"

"Because some things are better left in the _past_!" Ben yelled at her finally, shattering the stillness of the night.

"Too bad that that's not an option."

The two spun around to face the voice that had spoken. There stood a human, wearing a long, dark cloak which billowed softly in the breeze. The blue light from the college which was still beside them cast an eerie glow across him.

"Ben, nice to see you again."

"I thought I felt the bile rising in my throat," Ben muttered, simply dropping Isaac to the ground. "How many men with you?"

"Now if I said that what kind of a guild leader would I be?"

"_YOU'RE _the new leader?" Ben gasped.

"Who else?" the human asked, laughing, "_you _were slotted for it, until the incident…"

"Ben, who is this man?" Eileen asked, cautiously drawing her mace.

"Nobody of importance."

"Oh, no, please introduce me to your lady-friend, Ben," the human continued, beginning to advance on the two. "It's so much easier to know somebody's name while you're torturing them for information…"

Ben's knives were out in an instant, and he was in a fighting stance, pointing both of them at the other human at the same time. Blue light was shining from the eyes his pin, and coursing up into his own eyes to give them a creepy blue glow which was visible even through the light of the college.

"You leave my friends out of this!" he snarled. _Actually_ snarled. Something bestial had come over his features.

"Well this is new," the thief said, not at all frightened. He casually reached into his cloak and drew out a single, long katana with a scratch running down its length. "Do you remember this katana, Ben?"

Realizing what was coming, what had to come, Eileen reached down into the sash attached directly as an inside pocket of her robe and pulled a card out cautiously.

"You don't want to start this again, Ridley," Ben warned.

"No, _you _don't want to start this again. And hey, if that was your goal, you shouldn't have returned."

Eileen threw the card into the air. "I declare an engagement!"

As the card disappeared in a flash of light and the judge appeared as he was magically bound to, Ben lunged violently forward, losing all self regard.

Ridley, as Eileen now knew his name to be, swung his katana at Ben in a quick, fluid movement. Ben brought both knives out, upside down in stabbing positions, to block it, then twirled around it to elbow the other ninja in the face. Ridley used the momentum to fall back, placing his hand behind himself for bracing, and then threw himself back up in a kicking motion at Ben's face. Ben, however, had continued twirling from his attack, and was now out of the way, slightly off-balance but otherwise fine.

That's when Ridley four companions showed up, rearing to fight. One was next to the grounds of the college, one was running down the road, two were coming down the road the other way and none appeared extremely competent at fighting. She could see that they had muscle to them, but it was more lean and made for acrobatics than anything.

Exactly the way she liked her foes.

Quickly, she raised one hand, and pointed it at the first thief, drawing into herself, into that tap of energy which filled her, and brought some of it out in concentrated form. Water flew from her finger in a ball, going fast enough to hit the thief with the force of a baseball bat. That thief cried out and was thrown backwards onto the grass of the grounds. Instantly, they reached up in long, thick tendrils to wrap around his thin form, and began squeezing, squeezing, _squeezing _him until he snapped.

Eileen twirled violently, partly to open her cloak enough for the judgepoint to enter her sash of its own accord, and partly to get a view of Ben and Ridley's fight. Somehow, they'd managed to get nose to nose, each of them pushing against the other's weapons with all their might to get a blow in. At that moment, Ben did something rather unexpected. He lunged forward and attempted to bite Ridley in the face. Ridley, more on instinct than anything else, tilted his head back and out of range, with a shocked look on his face. Then, the tilting threw him off of his delicate balance. Ben howled with glee, rushing forward, however, he simply met a foot under his chin as Ridley fell into a backflip and went over backwards to his feet. As he came to his feet, he reached into that cloak and drew another katana out.

_Frick, _Eileen cursed silently, before turning back to the remaining three thieves. It appeared that two were advancing on her, while the other was going to help the leader. She figured that he'd be no trouble for Ben, but she'd rather not chance it, so she reached into herself, and brought out a bit more of her well of energy, tainting it as much as she could as she sent it to the thief's side. Instantly, a green gas filled his immediate area, and found its way into his lungs. The thief bent over double and started retching on the path.

"Wha…?" came a voice from her leg.

"Isaac! I had forgotten about you!"

The moogle sat up, wincing and rubbing his head. "Okay, kupo, why does my head hurt like a rock smashed it?"

"Well," Eileen said, keeping an eye on the thieves closing on them, "these guys are attacking us, and figured they could get a quick victory by taking you out first."

"Right, kupo. Where's Ben?" he asked.

Eileen gestured, and Isaac looked, and stared. "Whoa."

"Yeah. We have our own things to deal with right now. Excuse me for a minute."

She pointed at the two thieves running at them, aiming a shot in front and between them, and cried out, "_Auflackern_!", cupping her hand and raising it into the air.

Flames flew from the earth, reaching up into the air. The first of the two thieves was running too fast to stop, and went straight into the eruption. He screamed as he came out the other side, covered in flames, and dropped to the ground, rolling about. Eileen turned away, raising her hand to catch the judgepoint on instinct. She hated watching the horrible effects of her magic.

She looked back a moment later to check that she'd taken out both of them.

She hadn't.

The second thief, a female moogle, had dodged around the flames nimbly, and was now nearly upon them. She raised her hand to cast a second spell, but found her voice caught in her throat, and she broke down in a coughing fit.

"Eileen, kupo!" Isaac cried, kneeling next to her. "What's wrong?"

"Too… much. Need… rest," she panted looking up at him. "Would you… mind… dealing with… her?"

Isaac nodded, and drew his new blade and his gun. He took a few steps towards the approaching thief, and held his ground in a ready stance. She didn't look like much, but it was stupid to underestimate anybody.

She charged in at him with a knife held in her right hand. She brought it in even at Isaac's neck, but he parried it lightly with the blade. Isaac was prepared to leap back or possibly block a second attack with his gun, but much to his surprise, it didn't come. The thief took an instant to get her balance again, and made another direct stabbing move on him. With little trouble, Isaac batted it away, again with his blade.

_Famfrit, _he thought simply, _she _does _suck!_

This time when she slashed at him, Isaac twirled with his parry, bringing the gun up and behind him so that its barrel rested comfortably against her chin. He pulled the trigger, knocking her head far back, though not really hurting her. He continued his spin around, however, and as he came around with his blade, he put a deep slit her throat. As the other moogle fell to the ground, Isaac got up, and, not wanting her to suffer, drove her sword right through her chest and her heart.

Isaac started walking back towards Eileen, when something hit him in the back of the head. He whirled around, expecting that it was a far-off sniper shot from a gunner, but instead found a judgepoint lying in the dirt. Confused, he grabbed it and placed it in his sash. Why was it there? The judgepoints were awarded at the end of the battle!

Shaking his head, Isaac returned to Eileen. "Hey, are you alright, kupo?"

"Yeah, I just over-exerted myself in my magic. Nothing big. You missed your judgepoint back there."

"I did. I mean, kupo, wouldn't you? They're supposed to come at the end of the battle."

"No, no they are not. They come as you defeat opponents."

"Kupopo?"

"Rules are different on land than they are in the air, Isaac. Because the situation is so changed and there is so much more risk involved on airships, they do not limit you with laws or distract with awarding judgepoints as they come. It is much less dangerous that way." She reached behind his ear to rub the bump from where she'd hit him. "Is your head alright?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, kupo," Isaac said hurriedly, suddenly aware of how hot his cheeks felt and thanking Famfrit for his fur. "Well then, uh, should we get back to Ben?"

"Oh Ultima, Ben!" she yelled, and they turned back to the two ninjas.

Ben was on the attack. With his shorter and lighter weapons, he could pull off several lunges and stabs every couple seconds. Ridley, however, managed to block all of them with his twin katanas. All of a sudden, Ben stepped back for an instant and twirled his knives several times around his hands, before bringing them forwards in a powerful double-stab. Ridley, surprised but not off-guard, managed to bring his two katanas up to sweep the attacks out far to the sides. Then, he brought his foot up and kicked Ben straight in the chest.

"Woof!" Ben gasped as he fell back.

Ridley didn't even stop to taunt Ben. He simply rushed in and stabbed at Ben with one of his katanas. The point came in and touched Ben's chest.

Blue light exploded around Ben's hands even as they grew reddish fur and long, jagged claws. He batted the katana away with one hand, then grabbed Ridley's chest, ripping into it. He lifted Ridley bodily off the ground and threw him behind him to the ground. Then, his claws slowly shrinking back into his fingers but blue light still bathing his form, Ben jumped up to his feet and turned to stare at Ridley. His eyes burned with the light of his magic.

"Oh, come on, Ridley!" he screamed. "I know you've got more in you than that! You'd have to, to beat out Roland for leadership of the guild. So what's up?"

"I can't say I was expecting the blue magic."

"Something I learned from a friend named Topier," Ben veritably hissed.

"I hope this Topier dies a horrible death."

Ben screamed, and rushed forward at the thief, ready to destroy him. Isaac, however, stepped in at that moment, placing a hand on Ben's chest.

"No, kupo."

"I have to do this! It's for Topier!"

"Don't do this. He's helpless, kupo, and you've beaten him. All you'll get from it is another extra judgepoint. Besides, your sash is full. We won."

"He deserves it!" Ben said, not even looking at Isaac as he spoke.

"He is not the one who killed Topier," Eileen told him as she walked up. "He's not the one you're angry at."

"I've got other reasons to get revenge on him!"

"Oh, you've received vengeance for them," Ridley muttered, looking straight over at Isaac. The moogle shuddered as he continued. "Let me tell you, he's had his revenge."

"You…" Ben began.

"What's that I hear, Ben?" Ridley said, cocking an ear and turning away from Isaac. "It sounds like the call to arms. I'd get out of here if I were you. I'm sure you could get away if they caught you, but your friends? Not likely."

Ben stared hard at him for a moment. Then he pushed past Isaac and slowly stepped towards Ridley, crouching down to stare the fallen thief in the eye.

"I swear to you on Topier's life that should I see you again, you shall die."

With that, he spun around, letting the dirty blue travelling cloak he wore slap Ridley in the face.

"Let's go."

Eileen and Isaac followed the human away from the scene as the judge disappeared. As soon as the judge was gone, Eileen's breathing, still heavy from her over-exertion lightened and returned to its normal pace. They went for several minutes in silence, keeping a furious pace in order to avoid any confrontations with the guard or any other wandering thieves.

"Alright, kupo, you wanna explain that?" Isaac asked tentatively. He had recognized that voice. It had been the one which had spoken to him on the roof.

"No."

"That is not fair, Ben," Eileen said forcefully as they continued walking. "Isaac has been totally honest with us, and I have been totally honest with you. You are the only one of us who has been holding anything back, particularly something which will affect us."

Ben shook his head and laughed bitterly, "You're just going to keep pressing it, aren't you?"

"It is for our and your own good. Why is it that you can not keep yourself in control whenever we enter a personal situation?"

"I told you before, I don't want to talk about it."

"Can't you at least tell us anything, kupo?"

Ben stopped and rounded on them suddenly, looking first Isaac and then Eileen in the eyes. His eyes were so intense that both moogle and nu mou took a step back. "Tell me, have either of you ever seen somebody in this world die? For real? Somebody close to you? You both watched Topier, but you weren't close to him."

He waited for an answer, but when they couldn't respond, he continued.

"I didn't think so. Tell me, Isaac, when you watched your captain take that knife in the back, what did you feel?"

"I don't know, kupo. It was a kind of a burning, just a rawness that needed to play itself out."

"I'll name it for you. Rage. That's what you felt. When one of your friends nearly died, you felt that much rage, enough rage to allow you and your partners to defeat an Inquisitor's crew, his hand-picked best."

Suddenly, he lunged forward and grabbed both of them by the fronts of their clothes, pulling their faces in close to his so that they could only see his brown eyes, tinted with blue from his magic.

"Now imagine what you'd feel, and what you'd be capable both physically and morally of doing if that friend had _died_. Until either of you understand that, you'll never be able to grasp why I fly off the handle like that. Now let's go find Ezel. I want to rest."

He released them, then spun around and stalked off, not waiting for the other two to regain their balances. Isaac shook his head and reached down to brush off the front of his shirt, and was shocked to find that it had ripped a bit. He looked over at Eileen for assurance, but she was simply staring after Ben.

"Isaac…" she began. She stopped, though, then started again, "I think that…"

"I know, kupo. He's always been the passionate one. But what I wouldn't give to have Jacqueline here right now. She always knows what he's feeling."

"That is probably the only reason they managed to stay together for so long," Eileen muttered. "Seriously, it took the entire world getting ripped apart to separate them."

They started walking after Ben, then. Suddenly, up ahead, Ben stopped, and both Isaac and Eileen tensed up, reaching for their weapons. Ben, however, simply stopped and turned around, walking back to them. In answer to their questioning looks, the ninja said sheepishly, "Uh, I don't know the way to his hideout."

There was silence for a moment. Then Isaac burst out laughing, tears leaking from his eyes. "Okay, kupo," he said through his fit, "I'm sorry, but this is actually the stupidest resolution to an argument that I've ever heard."

"Yeah, I guess it is," Ben said, grinning himself. "Look, I'm sorry about that. I just get so emotional sometimes, and I just need some time to blow off steam, you know?"

"There is no problem, Ben," Eileen said, shaking her head. "Just remember that we are your friends, and it is our job to be here for you."

"Yeah, of course, I know. Now would you mind leading the way to Ezel's?"

"Are you really _that_ tired?"

"No, though I'm somewhat frightened by the idea of being caught by the city guard."

"Good call, kupo," Isaac said, picking himself up off the ground, where he'd fallen from laughter.

"Are you sure that you're not going to be having any issues with how beautiful the architecture is, moogle?"

"Nope, not at all. And stop calling me moogle, kupo!"

The three stepped out again, heading deeper into the city.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Well, here it is," Eileen said, sweeping her hands out.

They were standing in front of a huge structure. It was made purely of darkened crystal, which reflected no light. Its figure was that of a giant, smoothly sculpted sphere, lying on a bed of broken and jagged crystals. Each of the smaller crystals at its base was a different, darkened colour. Any light which came into it flew to the core of the sphere, culminating into a small globe of brilliant light. Occasionally, an image would project itself from this core of luminance, flitting about on the surface for an instant before disappearing into the darkness of the diamond.

"Uh, Eileen," Ben said tentatively, "this is the Shrine of Ultima."

"That it is."

"And you realise that the Shrine of Ultima is where the majority of the people wishing to find and capture Ezel reside?"

"Yes I do."

"I don't think I'm making my point. What are we _doing_ here?"

With a broad grin on her face which would have put the Cheshire Cat to shame, she said, "This is where his current hideout is located."

There was silence for a moment as Ben processed this. Then,

"That _bloody _genius!"

"I told you that you would like it, did I not?"

Eileen led them around the back of the shrine, or the back in relation to where they were standing. Overall, the entire thing looked the same from any direction one looked at it. Isaac had to keep dodging glances at it, trying to discern what the images flitting across it were. Finally, he gave in and asked Eileen.

"They are the faces of some of the greatest current and past nu mous in existence. There are the likes of Maureen Gold-Eye, Zachariah Termal, and of course, Nu Mou, the father of our race's connection to magic, after whom our race is named. He forged the original pact with Ultima, and sacrificed himself to complete the connection. He became the Ultima Crystals. People say that it is only legend, but I believe it to be true. So inspiring, truly."

"I'd like to hear the full legend one day, kupo."

"I'd be honoured to tell it, as well, once we've got time. Now, excuse me, the actual entrance to Ezel's, ahem, lair, is here," she said, pointing down a small pathway down through the jagged crystals.

The three stepped out onto the path, and Isaac stopped for a moment to gaze at the beauty all around him. It was amazing, much like everything else in this new world. He turned to look up at the globe for an instant, and he managed to pick out one of the faces for a single, fleeting instant. It was a nu mou, like all of the others, only unlike the others, this was an extremely young and focused look. From what he'd seen of nu mou so far, Isaac knew that they all had a somewhat distant look to them, like they were always thinking of several things at the same time, which was probably what made them such good mages. However, this one's cool blue eyes showed only determination and singled concentration. His fur was snow-white, further enhancing the effect of his youth, and yet there was something odd about his ears. They seemed somehow as though they had been attached by means other than the normal connection by flesh. Then the face was gone again, and Isaac's attention came back to reality. He looked, and saw that Ben and Eileen were already far ahead of him, so he jogged to catch up.

"The official entrance is right behind this crystal," Eileen was saying, gesturing towards a dark red fragment. "You just have to walk into the green crystal."

Ben nodded, and stepped around said crystal. Isaac was about to follow him, when Eileen put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Isaac looked up into her emerald eyes, feeling that new and familiar feeling of his heart fluttering, and she gave him a "One moment" look. He waited.

After what she judged long enough time for Ben to have entered the crystal, she turned to Isaac and said, "If we ever get into another battle, as we undoubtedly will, keep an eye on Ben."

"Kupopo?"

"He is a loose cannon. He has definitely gone through some serious mental trauma since coming to this world, and it has put him on edge. So watch him. I will be busy casting my magic, but a gunner sees the entire battlefield. Please, do this for me."

"I'll do it Eileen," he promised her, "though it does go against my better judgment, kupo."

"Mine as well. You may as well go first. Quickly, so that he doesn't get suspicious."

Isaac nodded and made his way around the red crystal. He quickly picked out the green one, and stepped into it.

After about five seconds of wondering whether he had walked through or bumped into the crystal, Isaac found himself falling through about one metre of open space before promptly landing on his back with a painful thud.

"Why do I _never _land on my feet?" he asked aloud. "Ever?"

"Well, it could have something to do with the genetic makeup of the moogle, which causes their centre of gravity to be situated around their back, enabling added mobility during flight," came an extremely educated voice from somewhere nearby. Then the voice changed to one which resembled Ben's when he was feeling sneaky. "Or, then again, it could be bad luck."

Isaac just laid there, and said, "Thanks for that, kupo. Anything else I should know about why I suffer so much pain?"

"Yep. If I were you, I'd get out of the way, because Eileen's about to come through."

Isaac through himself violently forward, rolling over his head and up to his feet. Not a moment too soon, as well, because Eileen appeared out of open space and landed on her feet in a practised movement as her robes billowed slightly.

"Ah," she said as she rose from her crouch, "there we go. Isaac, may I introduce you to Ezel Berbier?"

Isaac looked away from her and stared at the nu mou standing across from him.

"Good day, Isaac," he said, his laughing eyes gazing at him in a way which suggested that he knew everything about him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

You could tell that his robes were, at some point, as magnificent as Eileen's. They were in the same general style and colouration, except that his were much more dirty and worn. The plainer robes he wore underneath the large overcloak were more rags than anything else, stained with grime. His grand hat was, at some point, much more beautiful and magnificent than Eileen's, with the brim in golden lace rather than just plain white, and the eye's pupil in pure white instead of Eileen's black. He was definitely, at some point, a great alchemist of some point. Now, all his fur was grey with age, and his stubby tail was losing some of its fur. Anyone who took a passing glance at him would see a poor, old nu mou who was down on his luck.

Anyone who looked at his eyes would see something completely different. They were filled with nothing but laughter, kindness, knowledge, and understanding, all in a combination of the greatest violet shade anyone had ever seen. When he smiled, which it seemed impossible for him not to do constantly, the entire world seemed a few shades brighter.

He offered Isaac a small nu mou hand. The moogle took it, and was surprised by how firm his grip was. They shook, and Ezel smiled at him. "Your hands are calloused from work. Yet they still seem to be mobile. Good." He looked beside himself at Ben. "Well, your taste in friends has improved greatly. Hopefully this one doesn't try to kill you."

"Meh, he already has once or twice," Ben informed him.

"I can't blame him. If I had the opportunity I'd probably go for you, too."

It was at that moment that Isaac realised he really liked Ezel.

"Well, I'm sure you're all very tired, and it looks as though you've had a little engagement recently, so…"

"_How_ can you tell we have had a recent engagement?" Eileen demanded, incredulous.

"You're all still sweating, that one's got a cut on his sleeve," he said, pointing at Ben, "and I heard the city guard being called. You should all get some sleep," he insisted.

"I'm not gonna argue, kupo," Isaac said, gazing around the small cave-like dwelling. "Where do we sleep?"

"Right through there," Ezel pointed. Suddenly, one of the walls melted, and there was a bedroom for one, with a bed small enough for a moogle. "And there, and there," he instructed, pointing at two separate walls, which melted in turn to reveal bedrooms. "You should all sleep tonight, and tell me your story in the morning."

"We'll pay you for this in the morning, too," Ben promised.

"No you won't. This isn't business, this is friendship, so there's no price. If you want any cards while you're here, though, well," he flashed a smirk. "That'll cost you."

Ben laughed and shook his head, and Eileen simply smirked and rolled her eyes.

"Well, I'm beat, kupo, so I'll go to bed now. It was an honour to meet you, Mr Berbier."

Isaac walked into the hole in the ground which was his bedroom, the wall of which sealed behind him, and curled up in the bed. Soon, he was dozing contentedly, sound asleep.


	17. Settling In

Isaac woke feeling perfectly refreshed, and, much to his own jubilation, without a massive headache. Strangely enough, he hadn't had any dreams that night. He'd been having quite a few recently, particularly since he'd met Ben. However, with the arrival of Eileen, they seemed to have stopped, for the time, at least.

He rolled out of the comfy little bed and landed easily on his feet. He stretched out slowly, somewhat catlike, groaning as he felt a kink in his spine. Reaching behind his back to rub it out, he found his hand touching the leather of his ammo belt. Wow. He'd gone to sleep wearing his ammo. It was lucky the thing was almost empty at the back, or else he would have a couple dozen more little kinks all along his spine.

Which reminded him. He would need some more ammo soon. He could of course still fight with his blade, but he was nowhere near as good with it. But bullets could be pricey. In Baguba Port there were so many gunners that there was a constant supply of ammunition, but in Cadoan, which was filled with mages? Not likely. They'd be rare and expensive.

He shook his head and looked around. It appeared as though his host had already been in here today. There was a dish filled with clean, clear water sitting on a table. Walking slowly over to it, Isaac splashed a bit on his face. It felt nice to have some moisture on his fur.

Sighing, he looked around his room, and something occurred to him. How was he going to get out of here? Ezel had simply melted a wall to reveal the room.

Walking slowly over to the wall which had melted, Isaac tried touching it. The entire thing melted away, just like when Ezel had pointed at it. Sweet. He stepped into the main room and got his first good look at it. It actually looked quite a bit like a normal shop. There was a counter which reached up out of the stone itself, bare for the moment, with various cases in which Ezel's wares were no doubt kept during store hours. A window on the front of the counter showed what was inside, which was, for the moment, nothing. There were a few hanging plants here and there, and a couple of scenery paintings on the wall. Curiously, for Isaac assumed that they were underground, there was a window in the wall, letting what appeared to be early morning sunlight into the room.

"Ah, it's good to see that one of you is awake," Ezel said, walking into the room from an entrance behind the counter with a small crate in his hands. "Ben and Eileen stayed awake for a short time after you went to sleep, but they were so tired that we didn't really talk too much."

"Well, we had a long night, kupo," Isaac explained.

"With those two, I don't doubt it, but seriously, you've been asleep for over twenty six hours."

"To be fair," Isaac defended, remembering the long, silent and wary wagon ride there followed by the night of robbing and being attacked, "We've been awake for two days, kupo."

"And this is why I stopped my adventuring days long ago," Ezel shook his head, then turned towards a vault, which had magically appeared in the wall. "I need to start setting up my shop right now, but feel free to look around."

"Tell me, what is it that you sell, exactly?" Isaac asked as he watched Ezel pull off a ring from a string around his neck.

"I sell the ability to break the law by preventing yourself from breaking the law," he said cryptically. He shoved the ring into a slot on the vault and turned it, making a long line of dials appear on it. "Pretty mysterious, huh?"

"Definitely mysterious, kupo; none too helpful."

"Well maybe _this _would help you out a bit," the nu mou said, turning several of the dials with the ease of practice and cracking open the safe. He reached in and pulled out a long, stone slab which had on its surface…

Cards. Many large, judgepoint-sized cards. Most of them were brown, with a small insignia on it which was crossed out by a pale yellow X. Isaac could recognize the forms on many of these, like a sword, a gun, or a flame, but others were much more complicated. For example, one had what looked like a set of legs with some sort of vines rapping round them and binding them together. There were also a few cards which were a pale green colour, which had a small black dot around the symbol instead of an X through it.

"What are _those_, kupo?"

"These, my moogle friend," Ezel said, smiling with pride, "are law cards. My personal invention. If there's ever a law that is getting in your way, all you have to do is draw one of these and throw it, just like you would a judgepoint to declare an engagement. Then the law is _nullified_."

"You invented these?"

"Oh yeah."

"How _long _did it take you, kupo? I thought the judges possessed the most pure and powerful magic ever known."

"They do. However, most of them don't understand it; they simply know how to use it. Remember this: knowledge will always defeat sheer force. All I had to do was research how their magic works, find a low-energy opposite power force, and then find a vessel which could hold it."

"And the cards are powerful enough to hold that kind of kupo energy?"

"Never doubt the power of these cards," Ezel cautioned. "I use powered out judgepoints and then infuse them with my power. Then I simply sell them on the black market for lots of cash."

"How much, kupo?"

"Well, this antilaw, you see," he said, picking up a card with a circle in the middle, divided into quarters coloured red, blue, white and black, "counteracts the law preventing colour magic. It runs in at around four hundred thousand gil."

"_Four hundred thousand gil?_" Isaac exclaimed, not adding a kupo in his surprise.

"Hey, it takes a lot of work to make these things, and I'm the only one who knows how to make them!"

"So you can charge whatever you want, kupo."

"Hey, being a celebrity has its upsides, you know."

Isaac shook his head in mock disgust. "I guess so, kupo. Oh, I guess I've never really introduced myself properly. I'm Isaac, machinist and gunner slash attempting mog knight."

"Ezel," the nu mou said, "misunderstood genius of Cadoan. So, you're a machinist?"

"Well," Isaac said hastily, "I worked on an airship for a few months."

"Ah," he said understandingly, "so that's where you earned both the calluses of hard work and the nimble fingers of skilled art."

"You could say that, kupo…"

"Khnow what?" he asked suddenly, "I have something to show you."

Without waiting for a reply, Ezel swept off out of the room and behind the counter. Isaac quickly flapped his wings and jumped onto the counter, hopping back down and following the nu mou into the back of his abode.

Through the door was a short hallway. The hallway had four doors in it, including the one he had entered from. One obviously led to Ezel's bedroom, the other probably to wherever it was that Ezel performed his work with law cards, and the final door was the one which he was leading Isaac towards.

"The only problem," Ezel was saying, "with my law cards is storage. Nobody seems to know what to do to carry them around. I always tell them, 'Just put them in your sash!', but everybody wants to be able to hold as many judgepoints as possible, just in case." Ezel rolled his eyes as Isaac walked up to him. "So I started thinking to myself, 'Ezel, my boy, why don't you make up a sash with an extra compartment for holding law cards in? This idea was genius enough, but _then _I came up with a better one. Those sashes, there's only one design for them, and to be fair, there are some people, like ninjas, fencers, snipers and the like who need all the mobility and as little weight as they can possibly get. So I figured, hey, why not offer a service selling _custom sashes_?"

With that, he opened the door onto a mostly normal looking room, with piles of tanned leather in the corner. There were also the supplies necessary for cutting the fabric, and a box which looked like it was for sewing in the corner. On the walls there were posters of different designs for sashes, with names of the different classes which could use them.

"Impressive, kupo," Isaac said, looking up and over at him, "you're not only the cause but the answer to this dilemma."

"That, my boy," Ezel said with a wink, "is business."

"So why did you want to show me this, kupo?"

"Well, I of course spend all of my time either making cards or selling them. So I've only made, I think, eight of these. Your friend Eileen has one of them; I attached one to the fabric on the inside of her robe so that she wouldn't lose it."

"She _lost _her sash, kupo?"

"Twice. Anyway, I was thinking, seeing as moogles are normally quite good with their hands, would you like to help me with this part of my business?"

"Um, well, kupo," Isaac stuttered, wondering why it was that back home he'd applied for six jobs and gotten none and here he'd been offered to extremely important and well-paid positions without even showing interest, "I don't really know how to sew or any of that…"

"Don't worry, neither did I. The sewing we're doing isn't too complicated, and I hear that moogles are naturals with a needle and string."

"Well, uh, but I don't know how long we'll be staying here, kupo!" Isaac said, trying, for a reason he didn't know, to come up with any reason why not to.

"Oh, come now, this is Eileen's home, and both she and Ben have some unfinished business here, trust me."

"Uh, kupo, well, kupo, I guess, kupo, uh, yes?"

"That's the spirit!" Ezel cried, slapping him on the back. "Now come on, I've got a lot to show you. Don't worry, you've got time to relax. Not that many people have made orders yet, but you never know when business is going to pick up!"

With that, the older nu mou began pulling Isaac along behind him, giving examples of all the styles and versions. Isaac, for his part, just tried to stay on his feet as the excited nu mou dragged him about, committing as much of what Ezel told him to memory as possible.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Ben finally woke up and stumbled into the main room of the cave-like building, he was greeted by a tired nod from Eileen, who was sitting cross-legged in meditation on a chair in the corner. She had done that even in the real world, simply sat there without thinking in order to gather her thoughts. Which, when he thought about it, was somewhat ironic. Not thinking to make thinking easier? Wasn't putting stuff off supposed to make it worse? Whatever. He'd never understand it, probably.

Looking around, he noticed that neither Isaac or Ezel was there.

"Ezel managed to get him in on another one of his marketing plans."

Ben looked over at the sound of Eileen's monotone voice. Her eyes were closed. Scratch what he'd said about it not helping thought.

Ben made his way around the counter and into the short hallway behind it. There was an extra door there that hadn't been there the last time he'd been there. He walked into that room, and shook his head in annoyance.

Isaac sat in the middle of the room, covered in straps of leather which he was sewing together in apparent patterns while Ezel stood over him, watching.

"Ezel, what have you done to my little friend?" he asked.

"Your 'little friend' is a genius with his hands! He's already nearly finished one of these things which would normally take me a week!" he ruffled Isaac's headfur roughly. "I see a grand future before us."

"Isaac, what do you have to say about this?" Ben asked, knowing that Isaac had sometimes been talked into things he didn't want to do, even in the real world.

"It's something to do, kupo, and what can I say?" he shrugged, "I enjoy it."

"Dang it, he's lost to us," Ben said melodramatically. "Hey, Ezel, I was wondering, are there any clothing stores anywhere nearby?"

"Yep, right down on Crescent Avenue. But they only sell robes, for the most part, you know."

"Yeah, I know," Ben shrugged. "I really need to buy some less conspicuous clothing."

"What, are you going to buy some black mage robes or something?" Ezel snickered. "I'd like to see that."

"Not quite. I'll be back in about twenty minutes. Don't destroy my moogle while I'm gone."

"I'm not _your _moogle, kupo."

"Whatever."

Ben walked out into the main room just in time to see the greyish light which had gathered around Eileen while he was gone dissipate. She opened her eyes and asked, "While you are there, would you mind buying me a different hat? This one stands out too much in a crowd."

"How did you—"

"You should try meditation; it opens up the mind."

Ben shook his head and didn't listen to anything else as he walked over to the crystal which operated as the exit from the area. When had his two friends become so _weird_? He really hoped that Jacqueline and Maxwell would show up soon, for his sake more than for anything else.

Shaking his head once again, Ben touched the crystal.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ben returned later that day with a bundle of clothes under his arms. He simply showed up through the crystal, tossed a simple purple hat over to Eileen, and walked over to the wall which lead to his room. He tossed his purchases into the area, then turned back to Ezel and Eileen.

"So, anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

"Nothing to speak of," Eileen muttered.

"Are you kidding?" Ezel demanded. "Isaac has finished _two_ of those sashes since you've been gone. _Two_! I mean, wow, he's got talent!"

"Whatever," Ben rolled his eyes. "Hey, Eileen, I've got a proposition for you."

Eileen closed the book she was reading and placed it on her lap. "What is it?"

"Well, I'm assuming that you want to know why Cheney and his bunch turned on you?"

"Obviously."

"And I kind of want to know what's going on in Cadoan's Thieves' Guild. However, if I were to go near any of my usual haunts, I'd be recognized in an instant, and be engaged in a city brawl that would put the Montagues and the Capulets to shame in the next instant. So, I was thinking…"

"You'll spy on the Alchemists' Guild and the local mercenaries while I deal with your thieves?"

"Pretty much."

"Do you not think that this is a somewhat one-sided deal? I assume that spying on thieves will be more dangerous than spying on mages."

"Hey, weren't you the one who was telling stories about how extremist the leaders of the Alchemists' Guild are on that wagon-ride home?"

"Very true," Eileen inclined her head. She thought for another instant, before saying, "Very well, then."

Ben nodded, then he said, "So what do you think, you show me where I should position myself and I show you where you should be today, and then we start tomorrow?"

"Sure. But do not get into any fights with anybody around there. There are many officers of the law around."

"What, don't you trust me?" Ben asked, feigning insult.

"Not for a long time. Now go get changed. Ninjas are too easily noticed around this city."

Ben nodded and headed to his room again. It was just as the wall was resealing itself that the crystal in the corner glowed.

"Ah, customers!" Ezel clapped his hands in joy. "I do so love it when people give me disgusting amounts of money!"

Eileen rolled her eyes. A moment later, there was a clapping noise, and someone stepped out of the crystal onto the cavern floor. He was wearing a long, white cape which wrapped around his shoulders and went down to his feet. Around his head he wore a neat turban of the same shade of perfect white. This turban, however, didn't fully mask the long mane of golden blonde hair he had, nor the small cowlick which dangled down over one of his crystal blue eyes. His skin, despite the blazing sun, had a pale shade to its complexion. Although his face betrayed his obvious youth, even younger than Isaac, Eileen and Ben, the strength in both his arms and his eyes was apparent. Underneath his cloak he wore a perfectly polished steal breastplate, a simple blue long-sleeved shirt, a pair of simple red cloth pants. Through a belt around his waist he wore a naked, painfully shiny knightsword. Slung around the back of his cloak was a circular, plain shield with a symbol of some sort emblazoned upon it.

"Ah, it's been far too long, Marche," Ezel said, stepping out from behind the counter to warmly shake the human's hand.

"That it has, Ezel," said Marche, renegade of the law, Paladin of Mateus, Leader of Clan Nutsy, and, as it just so happened, student of St. Ivalice Junior Highschool, as he pulled Ezel in to a large bear hug.

Eileen lost her breath as she realized whose presence she had suddenly been thrust into. _**The** _Marche. And that meant that he was no doubt about to be followed by…

At that instant, a moogle stepped through the crystal behind Marche. His fur was brown, like Isaac's, but of a slightly lighter shade which made it almost orange. He held the long rod of a black mage, yet his clothes were much more liberal than the constrictive robes which a black mage normally wore: a simple green jacket and a smallish pair of beige breeches. Strangely enough, as it was rare to see such a thing, his eyes still held their pale blue colour, without the slightest tinge of yellow in them. Many would look upon the small moogle's form and lack of decoration and assume him not to be any kind of threat, however any who heard the name Montblanc knew of the amazing, boundless magical energy which was contained in him.

Eileen felt that she would faint.

"Ah, and Montblanc, you've come too. It's good to see you again."

"Thanks, kupo," Montblanc said, flashing one of his famous little smiles. "We've been busy, so that's why we haven't been able to see you lately."

"Oh, that's alright, just so long as you show up every now and again and, of course, if you've come to _trade_?" Ezel said, tapping his fingers together.

"Of course. That Missiles law card was just the trick to take down Clan Dip," Marche told him, reaching behind to his belt and the small sash attached there. He pulled out a few cards. "Right now, we're going in to clear out a bunch of flans from Kudik."

"Alright, so a law card against colour magic?" Ezel asked, practically glowing with glee. "Those ain't cheap, you know."

"Well, thing is, they're blue flans, kupo."

"Oh," the nu mou looked crestfallen, "So just an ice law card?"

"Don't look so depressed!" Marche ordered, laughing, "we've given you plenty of pricey business before now! Like that level four antilaw?"

"Oh, that was fun. You guys gave me six cards for that!"

"Hey, kupo, who's your friend?" Montblanc asked, suddenly noticing Eileen sitting in the corner with her book.

"Oh, this is Eileen, a friend of mine. She's an alchemist of certain skill. She and two of her friends are going to be staying with me for a while."

"It's nice to meet you, Eileen," Marche offered her his hand.

She reached slowly forward and shook it. She had just touched a legend. "The honour is all mine."

"Heh, let me guess, kupo," Montblanc muttered, rolling his eyes, "You've heard of our exploits."

"Just a few rumours."

"Well, trust us, they're overstated. Everywhere we go nowadays people talk about us as though we were gods or something."

"To be fair, you have _fought _with gods," Ezel smirked, "Or Totemas, at least."

"Only two of them, kupo!"

"And according to rumour, you won," Eileen told the moogle, her eyes wide.

"Well, yeah," Marche admitted. "I still don't see what the big deal is."

"That's what sets you two apart, though," Ezel told them, then stopped to think for a moment. "That, _and_ disgustingly competent and natural fighting ability."

"Ezel, I finished that other sash you wanted," Isaac said as he walked into the room, holding a large, black, leather-bound tome. "I had to change a couple things in your design in order to fit the extra pocket, kupo, but it shouldn't change things too much."

"Ah, just in time, Isaac," Ezel said, taking the tome appreciatively. "Montblanc, here's your new and improved custom-made sash."

"I thought you said it would take a few weeks, kupo!"

"Well, I seem to have a new assistant. Might I introduce Isaac?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Isaac," Marche said as his smaller companion took the large book, opening it to the back to see the black leather sash attached to it. "I'm Marche, and this is my friend Montblanc."

"Nice to meet you," Isaac said, then quickly turned back to Ezel, "That's all the orders you had for now. Anything else you need me to do, kupo?"

"Uh, Isaac," Eileen said, catching his eyes and not noticing how it made him lose his breath a bit, "you _do _know _who _this is, right?"

"Yeah, Marche and Montblanc, they just told me."

"Do those names sound familiar to you? At all?"

Isaac stopped and wracked his memory. Or at least he tried to. He was finding it somewhat difficult to think at all while looking over at Eileen like that, so he instead averted his sight to the ceiling. Marche… Marche… Hadn't Foobar or Clay mentioned somebody named Marche once?

"Are you that Marche that destroyed one of the World Threads, kupo?"

"Well, two now, actually, kupo," Montblanc added.

"Nice. Any reason that you're doing this?" Isaac asked.

"Trying to turn the world back to normal," Marche said without hesitation.

There was an instant of silence, and Isaac and Eileen's eyes shot to each other. This time there was no difficulty in Isaac's thoughts or breathing. Did he say 'turn the world back to normal'?

"Sorry, kupo," Montblanc said, lowering his gaze in annoyance, "my friend's had some mental issues and they've kind of—"

"We know," Eileen said, suddenly finding it easy to speak even to this great figure of stories and legends. "We may have come from the same land."

"You mean—?"

"St. Ivalice," Isaac interrupted.

Once again silence reigned around the small shop as the five looked at each other, and they realised that the world had become much more clear, and yet much more complicated.

Fortunately, Ben walked through the wall at that moment to kill the awkwardness in the room. "Alright, you guys aren't allowed to laugh. I've only worn the official robes once before, and I know they might look a bit stupid, but here I am, perfectly disguised."

Isaac looked over at Ben. "Whoa," he gasped, at the same time as Eileen and Ezel.

Gone were the rags, the tight straps and veils used to conceal his identity. Gone was the veil, the covering turban and the furtive eyes which roamed the room. In their place was a splendid figure clothed in perfect, beautiful blue.

He now had on a long, covering, blue coat-like robe which was buckled up at the top and which was much looser and more billowy at the base. It hugged his form well up to the top until the white collar, which was pulled up, partly cloaked his face. He also had a thick leather belt around his waist, through which was driven a long, curved sabre. On his head, he wore a big, blue, pirate captain-like hat, with a huge white plume stuck to it. On the front of this hat was the insignia of the blue mage, the half-human, half-animal pin.

"Yeah, I know, stupid, right?" he asked, looking annoyed.

"Actually, you look really good," Eileen told him.

"Oh shut up."

"No, we're not joking, kupo. Blue's your colour."

"Funny, I know how dopey they look, so stop trying to make me feel better about it."

"No, Ben, we're not kidding!" Eileen laughed.

Ben rolled his eyes and sighed in annoyance, then looked at Marche and Montblanc. "Do I know you two from somewhere?"

"I don't think so, kupo," Montblanc said doubtfully.

"Really? I could've sworn…" he snapped his fingers suddenly. "That's it. Are either of you on those Wanted posters?"

"Er, yes," Marche said uneasily, "but we can explain…"

"No, you don't. Thanks to you with your huge pictures and giant rewards, not that many people get to see my poster and my tine reward. So thanks."

"Oh, uh, okay," Marche said, confused still, "you're welcome. Hey, are you Isaac and Eileen's friend?"

"Only because I show them enough pity to talk to them."

"Hey!"

"So do you know about the real world?"

Ben's eyes shot open in surprise. "Oh, uh, well, this is somewhat unexpected. Why do you ask?"

"He's on a mad quest to destroy the World Threads and defeat the Totemas in order to bring the world back to the way it was, kupo," Montblanc said, all in one breath as though he were used to saying it.

"And why are you with him?" Isaac asked.

"I'm just riding the wave, baby!"

As Isaac wondered whether or not they surfed in Ivalice and where that saying would come from if it didn't, Ben asked a slightly more serious question. "Why?"

"What?"

"Why do you want to go back?"

Silence reigned once again, this one much more uncomfortable.

"Well, it's escapism, this world, the entire thing is just a fantasy. It's unhealthy."

"But this world is a _new _reality. Who are you to decide whether or not it's true enough?"

"I don't know. But it's the right thing to do. Think about it. In the real world, we had to work for things."

"We have to work for them here," Ben countered.

"Yes, but nowhere near as hard. Before I came here, I'd never lifted a sword in my life, and I doubt that you'd ever been attacked by a monster and learned how to do it. But the moment I came here I got into a battle with some bangaas, and it felt natural."

"Shouldn't you take that as a good thing?" Eileen asked, joining in now. "In this world you can defend yourself, then."

"Look, it's a simple matter of principal. I just don't think it's right. If you guys want to kill me for it, go ahead, you won't be the first ones."

"Don't worry, we won't attack you," Eileen assured. "I, for one, am impressed at how well you managed to defend your point. We won't get in your way. Besides, Ben and I were just going to go out for a while. Are you coming, Isaac?"

"Yeah, of course, kupo," the moogle said. He was somewhat discomforted by the tones he had heard in his friends voices, somewhat dangerous ones which threatened fierce opposition at ever turn, and wanted to get out of the uncomfortable position as soon as possible.

"Alright, I'll see you three later," Ezel said. He offered a large smile, and said, "Besides, these two have some business with me. It may be only an Ice law card, but I'm still going to gouge you for it!"

"You realise that you're not supposed to tell your customers that you're doing that?" Marche asked, placing some cards on the counter.

"What are you going to do? Find a different dealer?"

"I hate you sometimes."

"Everybody hates me sometimes."

Isaac shook his head and nodded to the other three, then jumped up to place a palm on the green crystal. He had the same feeling of discomfort, then he was out in the daylight again. Ben and Eileen quickly followed him through, and then they made their way through the winding streets of beautiful houses to a small market situated just outside the Gate of Light, as Isaac had learned it was called. There, they purchased a small meal of chocobread and varying fruits Isaac had never heard of and sat down on the steps of a building to eat it.

"So, did anybody else find that weird back there?" Ben finally asked as he tore the peel off of a pink fruit of some sort.

"Kupopo?"

"He wants to go back. To go _back_. Who would want to leave this world?"

"Differing people have differing views on the world and how it should work," Eileen said. "Who are we to say that his view is not correct?"

"Who is he to say that it is?"

"Alright, seriously, kupo, where did the two of you learn to have such weird debates?"

Ben and Eileen both simply shrugged, and they went back to eating for a time. Finally, Ben asked the question that was on everybody's mind.

"So, what do we do about him?"

"Personally, I do not believe it is even possible for him to accomplish his task," Eileen ventured, grabbing a slice of bread. She grimaced at the crust, then ripped it off and passed it to Isaac. "The odds of him actually being able to confront and defeat _all _of the Totemas while dodging palace guards and bounty hunters, not to mention any people from the real world who don't want to go back who'll be trying to stop him."

"But what if there are people who want to go back with him, kupo?" Isaac asked, nibbling on the tough crust. "I mean, some people must have had better lives back there."

"Who?" Ben scorned, popping a piece of the fruit into his mouth.

"Well, have either of _you _seen your parents since you got here, kupo?" Isaac waited for their response before he continued. There was none. "Me neither. Anybody from the old world. Friends, family. Not to mention, what about the pacifists and peaceniks? They can't be doing too kupo in this world of constant battle."

"You're starting to sound like _you _want to go back," Ben said suspiciously, pointing his peeling knife at him.

"No, far from it. I actually _fought _with Thom here, and it was pretty close, kupo."

"The way you told it to me, he was about to slit your throat when that Time mage slowed him."

"Shaddup!"

"Either way," Eileen said, "I believe personally that anybody who wants to go home should be allowed. The only problem is that the only means of getting home is, well, …"

"Destroying the world?" Ben offered.

"Essentially, yes."

They sat in silence for a while longer, until they finished their meal. Then they stood up and made their way out of the market, and into the city proper.

"I guess we should start pointing out where to position ourselves," Ben ventured.

"We may as well. Have you got anything to do, Isaac?"

"No, not really. Until Ezel gets some more orders, I've got time off. I think I might find somewhere to get a job, kupo, just so that we've got some extra gil."

"Why not work for Ezel?" Ben asked.

"Are you kidding? He's offering us a place to sleep, protection and meals, kupo! It's only right that I help him out a bit."

"Whatever you say, moogle," the human muttered.

"Why is it that you were never such a workaholic at home?" Eileen asked.

"Who knows? I guess I was never motivated. Either way, let's get going."

They ducked through the crowded streets and began talking again, this time about less serious matters. As always, it made Isaac think of times back home, but he still felt the void of two missing elements. He didn't know why, but it was just wrong without all five of them. Maybe it was just nostalgia. He promised himself that he would keep an eye out for any trace of either of his absent friends, then and there.

How ironic it, was then, that he hadn't notice the flyer on the stairs they'd been sitting on, with an image of a young vierra on it, with long, flowing hair, a piercing gaze, and an amazing smile which would have been eerily familiar had any of the three seen it…


	18. Love Sucks

Edit March 2012: For a quick piece of trivia, this was the first chapter of the story to have its own title. I announced this in an annoying way at the time, but decided to get rid of it. FUN TIMES.

* * *

"Alright, here we go again, Isaac," Ben said, holding his sabre out in front of him. He wasn't wearing his cloak, not wanting it to get in the way or get damaged, and he had removed his shirt in the humid heat of late summer. "Let's try this _one_ more time."

"Whatever you say, kupo," Isaac sighed, picking up his blade. "Just try to do it right, this time."

"I will, I will."

Isaac shook his head, then rushed forward and slashed at Ben as high as he could. Ben caught it in the curve of his sabre, and threw it out to the side. Isaac let go of his blade with one hand and used the other to catch Ben's sabre hand. Ben, in turn, lunged forward with _his _empty hand and grabbed Isaac's blade hand, and they were at a standstill. Isaac met Ben's eye, and gave a small nod to show he was ready. Ben nodded back, and then a look of concentration crossed Ben's face as the pin stuck through his hat struck up its blue light.

This was the moment they were waiting for. The light wound its way around and down into Ben's head, running through his hair and in his eyes. As it did, his skin became harder and grew strange rocky protrusions from it. His eyes grew bright and yellow, and then the remainder of the light gathered around his forehead. Ben shut his new yellow eyes and forced more light out, allowing it to pool with the rest of the light as it formed a strange horn on his forehead. For a few seconds, it was indistinct, but soon it began looking like the hilt of a sword.

Ben, shuddering from the massive amount of energy he was expelling to power this ability, lowered his 'horn' down to point at Isaac. He tightened his shut eyes, and tried to force the required energy out. It wouldn't take much more…

He gasped suddenly, and the light petered out. His skin regressed back into its normal tan colour, his eyes turned sky blue again, and his horn, or hilt, disappeared. He collapsed to the floor, his chest heaving with exertion.

"I can't," he gasped, sweat dripping from his forehead. "Too much."

His hand slipped from Isaac's wrist, but Isaac's furred hand grabbed his arm and he slumped Ben over his shoulder so that he could walk easier.

"Don't worry, kupo. You just need more practise."

He half-led, half-dragged Ben out of the workshop that Isaac had more or less claimed as his own. He helped his friend through the store portion of the dwelling, nodding to Eileen and Ezel on the way, and led the human on to his room. After making sure that Ben was alright, the moogle left and returned to the workroom. Business for the custom sashes had boomed since he'd started helping out one month ago. Apparently, they actually did work much better than the average sashes, and people loved the fact that they now had somewhere to stash their lawcards.

Ben and Eileen had been watching on each other's organizations, though neither had really found anything out. It was all more or less the normal red tape and bureaucracy that any organization had to deal with. Thus, Eileen had continued her study of Alchemy in secret with the help of her sage friend, whose name Isaac had learned was Quin, and Ben had been sneaking around, trying to find new creatures to learn Blue magic from. Quite often, he would test them out on Isaac, or attempt to. Currently, the two were trying to help him learn to use a very powerful spell known as Matra Magic.

Isaac stretched himself and pulled off his vest in the warm air. He was about to remove his shirt, when his hand brushed against his left sleeve and the badge he had attached there. He sighed, then let his shirt drop. He'd searched for information about _The Torrent _and her crew. He really had. But there was no news. Either they were captured, or they had hidden so well that nobody knew of their existence anymore. And if they had, they no doubt thought that Isaac was dead, so they wouldn't be looking for him.

Isaac got his box of supplies and checked all of the things he used for making the widely varying sashes, and then checked to make sure that he had everything he needed with his list of orders.

"Hmm… bronze," he muttered, checking back with the kit. None of that. Sighing, he got up, grabbed his blade (he'd run out of ammo a week before during an engagement with an unsatisfied customer who was attacking Ezel's shop) and walked back out into the store front. "I need to go and get some bronze. I'll be back in an hour or two."

"Wait, I'll come with you," Eileen told him, standing up. "I get bored staying around here on my own all the time."

"Hey, aren't _I_ good company?" Ezel asked with a mock-wounded look.

"No, no you're not. Especially not while you're doing business all the time."

"Ah, it's my curse," Ezel shook his head sadly, "I can only be so many things: Genius, celebrity, renegade, mage, handsome beast, cunning businessman, millionaire…"

"Please, let's go," Eileen begged.

The two escaped through the crystal as Ezel continued to lay praises onto himself. They made their way through the lanes and routes, stopping occasionally to look at one or two of the grand houses of inner Cadoan. Isaac had mostly gotten used to them by now, just as the other two had said he would. As they went, they spoke briefly, but for the most part they just remained silent, simply enjoying each other's company.

Eventually, they entered the normal areas of the city, and made their way towards the trades section. Here they moved slower, trying to blend in with the crowd and at the same time keep an eye on those around them. The constant fear of being seen by somebody never left their minds.

Luckily, they made it to a smithy with no incident, and Isaac looked at all of the prices advertised on different boards of slate. This smithy belonged to a bangaa named Bertrand that Isaac had become an acquaintance with. Whenever he needed any kind of metal for his projects, Isaac sought out Bertrand's helping, knowing the bangaa would give him a fair, if not necessarily cheap, price.

"Bronze… man this stuff is expensive, kupo!"

"Why don't you just buy some tin and some copper?"

"Kupopo?"

"That's how you make bronze; tin and copper smelted together."

"But I don't know how to smelt!"

"I do."

"What? Why, kupo?"

"There's more to being an alchemist than just saying a few fancy words and casting magic."

"Oh."

"Not to mention, almost everybody in this world knows the whole tin and copper combination."

"Eh!"

"Well, it's not my fault if you're stupid."

"Eh!"

"Uh, can I help you?" asked Bertram, who stood behind the counter, looking from one to the other.

"Yeah, kupo. We need some tin and some copper."

"Making bronzzzze are we?"

"Yep," Eileen said. "What are you making, anyway?"

"Some guy wants me to incorporate a sash into his armor, kupo."

"And he wants _bronze_? If this is gonna cost so much to make, why doesn't he wait until he's got some _real _armor?"

"Apparently it's a rich kid," Isaac explained, shaking his head, "thinks he's the new big thing, kupo."

"Don't we all, though, at sssome time or another?" the bangaa asked as he walked away, fetching Isaac's materials. The moogle turned to Eileen as they waited, looking her up and down before speaking.

"So, anything you need to do while we're out, kupo?"

"Yes, actually, I need to check in with Quin. He said he found something I should see."

"Alright, fine by me, kupo."

After Bertram returned with Isaac's order and promised to drop it off at Ezel's that evening (Bertram also happened to be one of Ezel's customers), the two began making their way back towards the rich part of town.

This time, they did talk as they walked. Isaac began telling her the rest of his story of what had happened since he'd found himself turned into a moogle. He'd told her everything until the end of his duel with Thom on _The Torrent_ during their ride to Cadoan, so he continued on to Ben and the failed attempt to rescue her.

"…and that's about it, kupo," he finally finished as they approached the gate.

"Well, you have been busy," she said. "Sucks that Thomas is here, though. I'll bet anything that you'll meet him again at some point."

"Why?"

"Because that's the way these things work! Haven't you ever read a story or seen a movie? He was beating down on you at the beginning, so you guys will have to fight again a few times, with the stakes being raised each time. It's a very important plot device."

Isaac laughed and shook his head, "Right, please don't confuse me any more. I'm still trying to figure out how I survived that fall, kupo."

"Maybe it was Famfrit?" Eileen suggested.

"Kupopo?"

"Well, I've been hearing stories. Apparently moogles have begun being able to summon Famfrit in battles if they offer up ten judge points. He might have come to your aid without you asking, seeing as you needed help and you had the points."

"Wow," Isaac said slowly, "so are you saying that I've been touched by a god, then, kupo?"

"Now don't let it go to your head!" she reprimanded. "Even gods can make mistakes."

"Don't worry," Isaac laughed again. "So, tell me, what happened to you when you got here six months ago?"

"Well, it's nowhere near as interesting as what happened to you," she said. "When I got here, I appeared in my home. I simply looked around and found out who I was and what I was doing."

"As simple as that?" Isaac asked, bewildered.

"Well, I managed to find my study notes. It was weird. They were all organized the way I would back home, and I could see the little notes I would have written for myself. Everything was the way I would have done it. Totally creepy. Anyways, I went to the home of the nu mou I was apprenticing with the next day. His name was Auggie. He was very nice, if a bit spacey and distant. I acted as casually as I could, and things worked out. I _understood _magic. It just made sense to me. I'd never used or felt the energy before, but it was there, and it was _mine_."

"Same way I felt when I held my gun, kupo," Isaac offered, "like meeting an old friend."

"Exactly. Anyways, a week later he told me that my work had really improved. Three months later, he suggested I take my Alchemy exam. I did, and I got the highest mark on record. Next thing I knew, I was working with a field research team, headed by Quin. The two of us became friends, and he taught me a bit about being a sage. The field research is why the Alchemists' Guild loaned me the map. When Ben stole it, the guild turned on me, and threatened to revoke my membership and charge me for the map."

"What, why, kupo?"

"Because they're a bunch of crusty old traditional assholes who are bitter because a female got a better test score than them," she said simply.

"Oh."

"Yep. Anyways, I petitioned them to let me try to get the map back from the thief. They probably wouldn't have let me, but then Quin gave me his support, and the support of the majority of the Sages' Guild. The sages and alchemists work in conjunction a _lot_, so Quin's support carried a lot of clout. I hired the best mercenaries around. They said they knew where the thief was hiding, and so we took off. I lied to them and said I was a black mage so that they wouldn't be prepared for me, just in case. Good thing, too, it turns out."

"And that's the past six months, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"Yup, six months…" Eileen said thoughtfully, "I've been here for half of a year…"

It was actually the first time Isaac had thought about it. He'd been here for a third of a year! It surprised him. And suddenly the thought came to him that he might be spending the rest of his life here. He might grow up, grow old, die even, here in this world. The thought blew his mind away. If this was where he was to live… He looked over and up at Eileen thoughtfully. Things were different here. Back home, he had kind of assumed that after high school he would just get an apprenticeship at a mechanic's shop and then live in his small, northern town with his four friends until they grew old, becoming the classic old cliché character from a bad movie. But now… he had power. He was strong, skilled, and it seemed that he was in demand for a lot of jobs at the rate he was going. Also, as he looked up at Eileen, he realised something he never had before. There was something he had come to know here, after being separated from her for three months, that he'd never known before. Something about her movement, something about how her robes ruffled in the soft wind that caught his eye. Things were definitely different.

"Hey Isaac," Eileen asked at length. "I was meaning to ask you…"

"Yes?" Isaac responded, somewhat too eagerly for his own liking.

"Do you, uh, well, do you…"

"Yes…?" Isaac asked, thinking, _Oh please god oh please god ohpleasegodohpleasegod._

"I guess what I'm asking is, uh, do you remember your, uh, your transformation?"

"Sorry?" Isaac asked, keeping his voice normal even though he felt like there was a large flaming rusty knife being plunged into his chest a couple dozen times as an elephant wearing cleats stomped on him.

"You know, when you became a moogle," she said, reaching down to rub his ear, "when you became like this?"

"Kind of, kupo," Isaac responded. The pain had stopped the moment he felt the contact on his ear.

"What was it like? I mean, for me, it was like everything just stopped making sense for a while, and then it was dark, and I could feel everything, but couldn't see. And it was pretty fast, too, like about a minute."

"During my transformation, everything got ripped apart and I couldn't move, kupo. Then my body just, I don't know, left my control," Isaac told her, "It was scary. And dark. That's about it."

"You're such a coward," she said, laughing and roughly rubbing his headfur, "you and your bloody darkness."

"Hey, everybody's got to be afraid of something, kupo!" Isaac protested. Then, on second thought, he added, "Aside from Maxwell, that is. I don't think I've ever seen him afraid of anything."

"Oh, there's Quin's house!" she said suddenly, and pointed. The house was a bit less grand than most in this section of the city, and the magic supporting it a bit less flashy. It was simply a somewhat large house, in the same style as many of the buildings in the less rich neighborhoods of Cadoan. The main difference between it an a normal house, though, was that this one was floating a good ten feet in the air. There was a translucent spiral staircase leading up to the doorway, pulsing softly in the sun.

"Do we just walk in, kupo?" Isaac asked, eying the staircase with interest

"Yes, he's probably waiting for us."

The two strolled up the impossible staircase and to the door. Eileen didn't even knock, and simply pushed open the door to allow herself into the house. Isaac followed her, and had his first meeting with Quin. It wasn't a good one.

The nu mou himself was just getting up from a desk where he was reading some sort of ancient text. His robes were a pale ruddy brown colour, the fringes on it done out in gold thread. There was a subtle sort of elegance to them, and that elegance seemed to transfer itself to his movements as he approached. He moved carefully but directly, placing every movement with careful precision. His short fur was all neat and well-tended, and Isaac couldn't help but notice that it rippled over muscles that were much more toned than one would expect from a nu mou.

"Oh, Eileen!" The nu mou's bright green eyes lit up as they walked in. He rushed forward and caught Eileen in a giant hug, then leaned in towards her face.

"Quin! Uh, one of my friends is here," she said, blushing extremely red and gesturing over at Isaac.

"Oh, sorry," he said, then leaned in and quickly gave her a peck on the cheek instead. "You must be Isaac. I've heard about you from Eileen. It's nice to finally meet you."

Isaac took the offered hand, trying to keep his hand from shaking with a mixture of agony, rage, horror, and shock. "It's nice to meet you too, kupo," Isaac said cordially, though in his mind he was thinking one word over and over again which he'd learned from Clay and which shall not be repeated here.

"So, what was it I needed to see? Sorry, but I'm a bit rushed right now. Can't be seen in public and all that."

"Well, you see, thing is," Quin said, smiling at her in a disarming way which made Isaac want to hurl, "you know, the two of us have never really been out before on an official date, and, well, there's a red magic tournament tonight," he pulled out a brochure at this point, "and well, you know…"

"Yes…?" Eileen asked, a smile playing on the corners of her lips.

"Do you want to go with me?"

"Of course!" Eileen yelled, and grabbed him in a huge hug. He dropped the brochure as he returned the hug. Isaac grabbed it on instinct as it fell, then turned away and walked out the door an instant before their lips met.

"Fuck," he said, sitting on the stairs. "You have got to be kidding me_._"

He slumped back in his seat on the stair, and groaned a bit. Why? Seriously, _why_? One moment he realised that, hey, maybe it'd be nice to have a relationship, and then _BOOM_, she's necking with that guy over there.

He looked up at the sky, and then wiped his face with the brochure. Something caught his eye, however. The brochure had a few portraits on it of a pair of viera red mages in heated battle. One of them looked normal, and he didn't pay much attention to her. The other vierra was a different story. There was something in her smile, something in the way her long silver hair fell partly across her face, something about that amazing smile which he recognized.

That's when it hit him like a crazed chocobo.

He got up and started running back to Ezel's. He would have gone in to see Eileen about it, but she probably wanted to spend time with her (he shuddered) boyfriend. Not to mention, Ben deserved to see this.

A few people stared at the short moogle who was running for everything he was worth down the almost empty lanes, but quickly forgot about it. He weaved along until he reached the Altar of Ultima, then ran straight through the crystal and into the store-front.

Ezel looked up at him, and was about to ask him what was going on, but Isaac interrupted him and simply said, "Ben?"

Ezel pointed at Ben's room, and Isaac walked over and slapped the wall. "Let me in, kupo!"

Ben groaned. "Sleeping, sorry."

"Let me in," Isaac repeated, trying to make it clear through his panting that he meant business.

"Fine."

The wall melted, and Isaac stepped through.

"What is i—"

Isaac interrupted him by shoving the brochure into his face. "It's Jacqueline."

Ben stared at it. "Mateus be praised."

They were quiet for a moment. Then Ben asked, "Where did you find this?"

It hurt Isaac to say it (not only emotionally; remember, he did just run all the way here without break), but he said it anyway, "Quin asked Eileen to go tonight. I stole the brochure, and recognized her, then I ran here."

"Does Eileen know yet?" he asked.

"No, I came straight here. But we won't be able to find her, kupo. The thing's in an hour, so she'll probably be on the way there already."

"Alright, have you got a plan?" Ben asked.

"I doubt we'll need one. Why don't we just find her after the competition, kupo? She'll recognize us!"

Ben looked him up and down, gave him a you've-got-to-be-kidding kind of look, and then tapped the little dangly red ball thing on the moogle's head.

"I get it, kupo. She'll recognize _you_, at least."

"One problem with that."

"What?"

"I'll have to wear my veil, because there'll definitely be thieves there."

"Alright, so take it off long enough for her to see you."

"Okay," they were quiet again. "So that's it."

"That's it, kupo."

"Alright then," Ben muttered, and after a moment of thought, said, "Let's roll."

* * *

"They're not going to let us through, Ben," Isaac said nervously as the guards stood in a long, impassable line in front of them. The plan had gone well enough. Ben wore all of his blue mage's equipment, with the sabre perfectly concealed and a veil over his face, and Isaac had his blade stuck under his vest on his back. However, for some strange reason, when they'd asked the guards whether or not they could see Jacqueline, they'd refused them. Even when they'd sworn that they were old friends of hers, the guards proved resilient. Thus, they had sat there, listening to the roar of the crowd in the stadium as the red mages duelled in stunning displays. At one point they even saw a few flashes of lightning going off into the sky. Now, the competition was ending and Jacqueline should be leaving soon, through this very exit.

"I guess we'll have to _make _a way through," Ben said, and a glint came into his blue eyes, both from his magic and his eagerness to battle. With that, he flew forward, his veil on his face, and his sabre out and slashing. He met the first guard, who hadn't even drawn his spear, and cut right through the belt which held both it and his pants up. They pooled around his feet, tripping him up as he tried to move. He then took a second step forward, and, predicting that Isaac had already drawn a law card and tossed it into the air, summoning the judge so nobody would get hurt, he slashed directly through the next guard's skin, downing him in an instant.

Isaac sighed in annoyance and drew his blade, then rushed forward in Ben's wake, throwing in slashes at anybody who came in at the ninja's side. They still had the element of surprise, but the guards were quickly grabbing shields and swords. The rate at which Ben was ploughing through meant that by the time the guards got their acts together, they would be surrounded and have to go back to back. Isaac sighed, and thought to himself in an annoyed manner, _Love is way too annoying_.

* * *

"Miss Jacqueline," one of her guards said in the soft, oh-if-I-tell-her-the-truth-she'll-shatter-because-she's-so-delicate voice they always used with her, "it appears that there's a disturbance at the exit you intended to use. We're preparing to…"

"That's alright, I'll take the same entrance."

"Ma'am, you don't seem to understand," the guard said in the same voice, "they've already downed three of the guards…"

"Then tell the guards to stop and I'll deal with them."

"Miss, you…"

"How many times do I have to tell you people?" Jacqueline demanded, spinning to face him, "I neither need nor _want_ your assistance. Now, if you wish, you may accompany me, but I lead." Her eyes turned steely. "Do you understand?"

"Y-yes, ma'am," the guard stuttered.

Jacqueline nodded to him curtly. Then, she grabbed the long red cape, tall red cap, and long skinny rapier she carried with her, attaching them just the way she liked.

"Let's roll," she said, and stalked off towards the exit with the guard in tow.

* * *

Just as Isaac had predicted they would be, he and Ben were now back to back and surrounded by about ten guards. Fortunately, the guards seemed to have no idea how to press this kind of advantage. Instead of making one unified charge which would crush the two of them, they just kept taking a step forward one at a time, and would then skitter back when either Isaac or Ben slashed at them.

"Hey Isaac," Ben whispered at one point.

"Yeah, kupo?"

"The one on your left closer to me. He's going to make a charge."

"How do you know that, kupo?" Isaac whispered back.

"Look at him. He's breathing deeper than the others, and we haven't attacked him yet. And look at his legs. You can see the muscles bulging."

"So what? We can beat him back, too, kupo."

"Yes, but as soon as he goes all out, the rest will."

"Great. So it's all about to come crashing down on our heads?"

"Pretty much. Sorry 'bout this, man."

"No prob, kupo."

At this moment, the guard in question charged. Isaac suddenly reached behind him and grabbed the belt which wound from Ben's hip to his shoulder, and threw himself up onto the blue mage's shoulders with the aid of his wings. Then he turned towards the guard and jumped, flapping his wings for extra speed. The guard, while surprised by this bold move, quickly brought his sword up and slashed it at Isaac. It hit the moogle squarely, but Isaac still managed to sneak his blade in to slash the man's throat. The man fell, and Isaac was thrown to the side with a gaping slash in his side.

Ben, as Isaac flew, spun and pointed in the moogle's direction. Blue light filtered to his fingers and turned white as it mixed with the wind and hit Isaac's wounded form. The slash healed up perfectly, and Isaac landed fine.

Unfortunately, Ben's prediction proved correct. At that instant all the rest of the guards charged, and the two started fighting for their lives amongst the press.

Isaac cut left and right, thanking Famfrit for his small size which helped him avoid dozens of slashes and stabs that normally would have killed him had he been human. He just parried the few cuts which were well-aimed enough to actually come at him, and tried to slash at the enemies' heels.

Ben, for his part, was doing amazing. He was using every piece of his body as a weapon, punching, kicking, biting and slashing at anything that came close. At one point, two guards came in at him from opposite sides, so he simply tossed his sabre into the air, let out a feral snarl, let his hands grow their lustrous red fur and deadly sharp claws, and drove them into the chests of the two, throwing them back with four small slashes in their skin. Then, as the other guards held back for a moment in fear, he caught the sabre during its fall.

All in all, one could have said that it was a pretty equal battle which either side could have won. But then, unfortunately for our heroes, Jacqueline showed up.

…

She knew as soon as she walked out of the back of the building that she should have shown up sooner. The guards had obviously picked warriors of far superior talent to tangle with, and they didn't stand a chance, in her eyes. She sighed, then turned back to the guard who had accompanied her.

"Don't get in the way. Call your guards off."

"But miss!"

"I said don't get in my way. Is that clear?"

She didn't wait, and simply took off running at the crowd which had gathered around the moogle.

…

Isaac was shocked when all of the guards suddenly backed off. What was going on? Then he saw it. Jacqueline. She was running directly at him. He was about to yell to her when he noticed she had her rapier drawn. That didn't look good…

Any further thought was cut off as she brought her steel out in a painfully fast lunge. Isaac, as best he could, sidestepped it, but not nearly hard enough, for it still managed to knick his fur and his skin, drawing blood.

Isaac waited for her next attack, and blocked it as the slash came in. However, she quickly turned her wrist so that her rapier was under his blade, and lifted it. Both of their defences were wide open, and Isaac wondered for a moment why she'd forced _herself _into such an exposed position.

But only for a moment. The next instant, she brought her rapier hand back and pointed at him with her other hand. Lightning crackled from it and slammed into his chest. Isaac, having never been really attacked by magic before, was totally unprepared, and flew backwards as the burning energy surged through his veins, wracking him with agony. He flew about six metres back before his back slammed against the corner of the building. He heard a crunching noise, and the pain increased exponentially for an instant. Then he couldn't feel anything, and couldn't move anything as he fell the three metres to the earth, landing straight on his face and snapping his neck. However, just before he died, he saw one thing. Red. And blue. Approaching each other. One ready for battle, one hoping to prevent it. Then there was darkness.


	19. That Was Mean, Jacqueline

Quick question before we begin, for one review/reader, namely: Jimmy. Wtf do you mean by wtf? You didn't ask a question! I can't answer you if you didn't ask me anything! Ahh! Oh well, enjoy the chapter, everybody!

* * *

Ben knew from the moment that he saw Jacqueline that he was in for some trouble. He had just finished cutting down three more guards when he saw the flash of red coming towards him. The remaining two guards figured that this new reinforcement meant that they'd have a better chance of fighting off the intruder, so they charged. Ben ran through one then grabbed his falling sword and used it to slash the other's neck distractedly as he stared at his girlfriend.

She didn't recognize him. She was prepared to fight him as she would any other enemy. And she, unlike the guards, apparently, wasn't underestimating him. Ben, realising it was the only chance to prevent a battle, quickly reached up to undo his veil.

Jacqueline, however, took this as a sign of aggression, and lunged forward. Ben, on experience-honed instinct, got his sabre out and caught the rapier with it as it came in, turning it to the side and bringing both of their weapons to point down at the earth.

The red mage lifted her left hand, the one without the rapier in it, to point at the blue mage, but he, unlike Isaac, was expecting it. He arched his back inwards, thrusting his hips forward and letting the blast of fire miss him completely. This position put him off-balance, however, so he threw himself completely into the movement, doing a full back flip and landing a few feet back.

Ben took a deep breath both to refill his lungs and to say something, anything to calm Jacqueline, but she was already back on to him, bearing down with her rapier held ready to block any attacks. Ben swung purposefully early, so that only the tip of his sabre made contact with the rapier. This, however, was enough for Jacqueline, and she used the energy of the attack to throw her rapier out wide, pointing to cast another spell.

Ben quickly let blue light collect down around his palm, forming into an incorporeal hammer. He threw it at her, and as it hit, it passed through her form, dragging some sort of red light out of her with it, before both the hammer and the red light dissipated. Jacqueline found that she suddenly couldn't cast her spell. She'd been about to throw solid ice at him, but now she didn't have the spiritual energy to do it. Growling, she brought her rapier in a viciously rapid swing across.

He wasn't expecting it, and thus the rapier cut through the fabric at the front of his robes and left a very shallow but long slash along his chest. Ben bit his lip and rushed forward, hoping to knock her off her feet while she was off-balance from the forceful swing. She, however, was better than he'd thought, and recovered quickly, getting the rapier in front of her. Ben would've impaled himself upon it, had he not caught the stab in the curve of his sabre at the last moment. He quickly began twirling both weapons around in circles, faster and faster, and Jacqueline had to work her wrist violently and uncomfortably to keep a grip on her rapier.

Then, Ben drove his sabre upward, taking the rapier with it. Both weapons went flying up into the air, and landed a few feet away.

"You're one determined fan, aren't you?" she asked, bewildered.

Ben opened his mouth to speak, but instead found her fist smashing him in the jaw. He fell back, in shock and pain, and then she, running faster than he'd ever seen anybody move in his life, rushed back, grabbed her rapier in a fluid movement, and came back forward, then ran Ben through the chest, all in the span of about a second.

_Holy sh…_ Ben started, but couldn't finish, because a moment later he died.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Jacqueline cleared her throat, then pulled her rapier out of the blue mage's chest.

"Marvellous!" the guard cried, rushing forward to her side, "absolutely marvellous Miss Jacqueline! He never stood a chan—"

"He was holding back," she told the annoying little man.

"What?"

"He was holding back. I left my defences wide open several times there, and he held back."

"Ah, well, he _must _be a fan, then!" he decided. "Oh, I guess we should have them arrested, then."

"No."

"What? But Miss Jacqueline!"

"I said no," Jacqueline said, pulling a small cloth out from her pocket and washing her rapier. "He fought well, and clean. Also, I'd like to fight him again one day. When he's _not _holding back, maybe."

"Should we not at least look at his face?" he asked.

"No. Identity is one of the few things that people have in this world, anymore," she said. Then she smirked, as though remembering something, "Though, then again, who said that identity is permanent? Well, come, let's go. We're not arresting them or looking on their faces."

The guard sighed, wondering once again why he'd been assigned to such an unusual competitor. Normally the fighters simply wanted their every need catered to, but her, no, she wanted to do as much herself as she could, and she wanted to do it the hard way. So annoying. With that, he walked off.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Isaac awoke he felt quite sure that they'd lost the engagement. He stood slowly up, happy that his neck was no longer broken. He stretched, then looked over at Ben. He had a rather large rapier wound healing in his chest, in just about the right place to pierce his heart. Talk about your symbolism.

"She killed me," he said, staring as the wound healed. "She actually killed me."

Isaac shook his head and walked over to his friend, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Yes, she did. She also snapped my spine and broke my neck."

"Yeah, but she'd probably do that in the _real _world to you. But me? I'm her _boyfriend_…"

_Oh Famfrit, _Isaac thought, extremely annoyed, _teenage love-puppy scenario._ "Look, don't worry about it. She didn't know it was you, kupo."

"So? She…"

"Do you know what I've learned makes me feel better sometimes when I feel depressed, kupo?" Isaac asked, interrupting him.

"What?" Ben asked, still very depressed.

"Getting pinned out of my mind at a pub and then singing bawdy songs, kupo. How does that sound?"

Ben was quiet for a long time. Then he said, "Well, maybe…"

Isaac smirked and helped his friend up as best as he could. "Let's go. There's this nice pub I noticed last week, kupo, the Sleeping Frog. We can get some ale and then plan how to get her attention. Alright?"

He lead him down the street, keeping a constant stream of conversation going so that his friend couldn't talk or think for himself.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

They made their way to a small table at the back of the pub where nobody would see them. Isaac quickly ordered the two of them a pint of ale each, and once they arrived the two got down to work, with Isaac sipping daintily at the large glass (which was, to be fair, about a third his size) and Ben taking large glugs.

"Alright, I'm thinking, what if we try meeting her at the exit of a different competition in a different city, when I could take off my veil?"

"But she'll be much more wary from now on, kupo. How about we go and get tickets to one of her competitions and just jump down onto the field during a battle?"

"Yes, because the guards won't stop or kill us before we get there."

"Right."

"What about if I were to climb to her window with you on my back so that you can get in through there, and…"

"Okay, Romeo, stop now. First, she'll kill me because she won't recognize him, kupo, and second, it's been done way too many times. Also, somebody will be guarding her window…"

"Then maybe we can leave her a note somewhere?"

"How, kupo?"

"Well, we could throw it to her?"

"You're definitely getting drunk. How are you going to throw a piece of paper with any accuracy, and then there's the whole guards rushing in to kill us problem."

"Shtupid guards."

"Uh, Ben," Isaac asked, "You feeling kupo there?"

"Oh, of course I'm feeling kupo!" the blue mage said with a sweeping gesture of his hand which nearly knocked Isaac's fedora off.

"You have had alcohol before, right?" Isaac demanded, his sight flicking down to the now-empty pint in front of Ben. "Please tell me you've drunk before, kupo."

"Of courshe I have!" Ben scoffed. "Do you think that I could get another of these?"

"No, kupo, not right now."

"Darn. This shtuff is pretty nifty."

_Nifty? _Isaac thought, horrified. _Oh, he is _so _wasted!_ Thinking that he should get him home before he got out of hand, he suggested, "Well, this is great, but I think we should be heading back, kupo! We only told Ezel, and he'll start getting worried soon, you know, storming the jail and, and…" He stopped. "Ben, are you listening to me?"

"Yesh…" Ben said, just as his head drooped down and smacked into the table.

"Oh you've got to be kidding, kupo," Isaac sighed. He looked around. Nobody had noticed yet. Good. He might be able to carry Ben out of there before somebody noticed and tried to take advantage of them.

Isaac got out of his seat, leaving a couple gil on the table, and grabbed Ben. He lifted as hard as he could, but the human remained prone in his place.

"Oh, come on…" he sighed. "In the old world I probably could've carried you along from here without any trouble." He lifted the human up finally and drooped him over his shoulder. Oh, he'd put on some weight! Wow, he hoped that that was all muscle, or he was going to get that human on a diet, and soon!

He stumbled along towards the entrance, keeping out of anybody's way and making a more or less steady progression towards freedom, when suddenly a vierra carrying a pair of large tankards of ale walked out right in front of him. Not being able to stop stumbling progress, Isaac bumped right into her with Ben on his back, and the three went down in a large pile with the ale flying all over the place.

Isaac, who was naturally on the bottom because he was the smallest and that's how these things worked, felt a shifting of weight overtop of him and a strong, feminine voice yell out, "Who did that?"

Isaac eventually managed to wriggle out from underneath Ben's form, and stood up shakily.

"I'm sorry, kupo!" he said, "I tried to stop, but it was too late, and… Eep!"

Now, obviously Isaac would not have said 'Eep' in a normal situation, but in a normal situation he wouldn't have the blade of a katana pressed against the skin of his neck.

"Excuse me?" she asked. Isaac saw the bags under her eyes and the red _in _her eyes which said that she was drunk, and not listening to any reason. "What did you say?"

"Please, kupo, I'm just saying…"

"Too LATE!" she yelled, drawing her hand back to bring her katana down in a killing stroke.

_Shring!_

Isaac, who was currently ducking his head and holding his ears shut so that he wouldn't have to hear his own skull cracking open, remained motionless for about three seconds before looking up to see where the katana had gotten to, because it definitely hadn't made it to his head or face.

He saw that it had gotten sidetracked by another sword, one which looked rather familiar. Isaac traced the weapon's blade down, seeing the grace and power etched into its side, the perfect balance and long, garneted hilt which identified it as a knightsword. He followed it to a pale-coloured hand, which lead to a face with crystal blue eyes and a blonde cowlick hanging down over one eye.

"Hey, Jocelyn," Marche said to the vierra, "how about if you calm it down a bit?"

"But this moogle made me drop my drink!" she complained.

"I'll buy you another one, here," the human said, passing her a couple gil. "Don't go too heavy tonight."

"I won't, I promise…"

"Alright, thanks," he said. As she walked away, Marche looked over to Montblanc who was sitting at a nearby table, and nodded, saying quietly, "Watch out for her."

"You know I will, kupo."

Marche nodded again, the turned back to Isaac. "Sorry about Jocelyn there. We found her almost dead in Lutia Pass, so we healed her up and saved her. She's had issues with anger and the like ever since, but she's bloody brilliant in a fight!"

"I can imagine, kupo," Isaac assured him, remembering the slash coming for his face.

"Yeah, sorry. So, uh, rough night?" Marche asked, casting a quick glance at Ben's prone figure.

"You could say that. His girlfriend just broke his heart…"

"Ah," the boy said, nodding understandingly, "so he lost his girl—"

"…in a literal fashion, kupo."

"Oh. Well I think I would probably have to have a couple drinks if that happened to me, too." Marche looked down at Ben again, then asked, "Need some help moving him?"

"Please," Isaac begged.

Smirking, the paladin reached down and wrapped a strong arm around the prone blue mage's figure, then lifted him up and over his shoulder without the slightest appearance of strain on his face. It was at this moment that Isaac noticed how wiry and solid the boy's frame actually was. "Where we heading?"

"Ezel's shop, kupo."

"Great, would you mind explaining what all happened on the way?"

"Sure, kupo," Isaac said, pushing the door open for him.

They stepped out into the warm Cadoan night, with the sound of the croaking frogs in their ears and the soft glow emitting from the Gate of Light which wasn't too far off. Isaac started blatantly.

"You realise that I used to be a human, kupo?"

"Well, it never really occurred to me, but sure, yeah."

"Well, I was, and so was Eileen. Ben and the two of us were best friends, along with two of our other friends."

"Who were the other two?"

"Maxwell and Jacqueline, kupo. It was weird, we're all opposites, and yet we're all such good friends. Max is a jock, Ben is an environmentalist, Eileen is a genius, Jacqueline is a beauty, and me, I'm a… well, I don't know what I am. I guess I'm a techie. You know, kupo, classic Breakfast Club."

"Opposites attract."

"Exactly. Anyways," he continued as they stepped through the gate, "by luck more than anything, _lots _of luck, Ben and I met in the Koringwood, and then we met Eileen there as well a few days later…"

"Wait, the five of you didn't start together?" Marche asked, looking over at the moogle and secretly trying to imagine how he'd looked as a human.

"Well, no, kupo. Did you start with any of your old friends?"

"No," Marche said, smirking. "Not at all, I guess."

"Yeah, well, the three of us wound up here. Then, earlier today, I, uh," he stopped, swallowing a red-hot axe which had managed to get lodged in his throat, "uh, I _found _a brochure for the red mages' tournament, kupo. Jacqueline was on it, as a vierra."

"Oh, your friend is _the _Jacqueline?" Marche asked, excited, "the Scarlet Rapier? _That's _who your friend is?"

" 'The Scarlet Rapier', kupo?" Isaac asked.

"Yes, that's her nickname on the tournament circuit," he explained. "She's one of the best, normally places in the top ten."

"Well that makes me way less ashamed, kupo."

"Why?"

"Well, in about three minutes she managed to break my spine and my neck and stab Ben through the heart."

"Yeah," Marche said thoughtfully, "she's got a bit of a reputation for that sort of thing. Wait a minute!" he said suddenly, and there was a look of gears turning in his mind. "Ben is in love with the Scarlet Rapier?"

"That's about right, kupo." Isaac said.

"Wow, I _do_ feel sorry for this guy," he responded, whistling and shrugging Ben up on his shoulder.

"Come on, it can't be that bad, kupo! All we've got to do is find some way to get to her," Isaac defended.

"Yeah, right," the human laughed. "You do realise how heavily under guard those red mage champions are, right?"

"Well, yes, kupo…"

"And you do realise that Jacqueline is notorious for being able and willing to defend herself whenever she feels threatened? Viciously?"

"I realise that now, kupo…"

"Uh-huh," Marche said, nodding. "So, what _are_ your ideas so far for getting her attention?"

"Well, uh, we're still working on that one, kupo."

"Figured as much."

Isaac was starting to get annoyed by Marche's somewhat superior attitude, so he snapped, "I'd like see _you _coming up with any brilliant ideas on joining up with your old friends while they're trying to kill you!"

Marche stopped for a moment, and Isaac could see that he'd struck a chord somehow. The boy swallowed slowly, then finally said, "Alright, I guess you're right. It's not the easiest thing."

They walked in silence, an extremely awkward and uncomfortable silence. Isaac eventually asked, "I'm sorry if I offended you, kupo."

"No problem. I know how you feel though, and I'd like to help."

"How, kupo?"

"Well, next month in Cyril there's going to be this big Blue Mages' Tournament. From what I hear, normally hundreds of mages flood to the city for it. Ben here might have a chance in it."

"Assuming he did win, kupo, what's that got to do with Jacqueline?"

"The winners of that competition and a twin tournament for red mages held in Muscadet have a show down here in Cadoan."

Isaac stopped in his tracks. "You're serious?"

"Of course, what do I have to gain from lying to you?"

"Well, it's just, wow, kupo, it's almost like we've got the best and the worst luck known to creation! I mean, I got thrown off of an airship, Ben and I nearly got shot by Ultima, Ben just so happened to steal a map which is worth probably a few million gil from Eileen, Eileen's hunters turned on her and beat her down, Ben and I just so happened to meet up with the one person in Ivalice who could both outrange me and hear Ben while he's sneaking, our first night in Cadoan Ben's contacts attack us while we aren't expecting it or are prepared for it, and finally, Jacqueline doesn't recognize either of us and kills us, kupo! Then, on the other side of the coin, I just so happened to fall off of an airship above the Koringwood, and I just so happened to have the ten judgepoints, and somebody just so happened to come along and make sure I wasn't dead, and that somebody just so happened to be Ben, and Eileen just so happened to be close enough to us that I knew it was her so that we could save her, and the guard on the wagon just so happened to be a gunner, and… and…"

"Are you done?" Marche asked casually.

"For now, kupo."

"Right, well, my compatriots and myself are heading out for Cyril early two days from now. If the three of you want, you could come with us."

"I'll ask them, but I doubt that they'll say no. Are you sure, kupo?"

"Yes, of course. Our white mage Guinness likes watching the blue mages' tournaments anyway, and we've got a job we're doing along the way. Besides, the more the merrier."

"Thanks," Isaac said, "this is very kind of you, and you have no idea how much of a help it is."

"No problem."

They walked along in silence once more, this time without the awkwardness. Finally, just as they were nearing the Altar of Ultima, Isaac asked something that was bothering him.

"Why are you helping us?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, well, Ben seemed just about ready to kill you last time you came to Ezel's shop, kupo, and having the three of us with you will only increase the bounty on your clan's head. Why are you doing it?"

"Why do anything?" Marche asked him. Isaac was about to snap something back at him, when he realised that Marche was being totally honest and serious. "We've all got our own viewpoints, in this world and the real one. Just because we disagree doesn't mean that we shouldn't help each other out."

"You're a pacifist, aren't you?" Isaac asked.

"I don't know. You?"

"People have attacked me because they know I won't fight back because I wouldn't hurt anybody, kupo."

"Isn't the world a fun place?" Marche asked sarcastically.

"Oh yeah," Isaac replied.

By now they were at the crystal, so Marche set Ben gently down, asking, "Can you handle him from here?"

"Of course. Thanks again, kupo. We'll meet your clan in two days then."

"It's more like one day by now, actually," Marche told him, looking up at the moon's position.

"Whatever. I'll see you, kupo." He watched the paladin leaving, but then called out suddenly, "Hey, if you ever manage to make the world turn back to normal, call me up."

"You know it."

Turning back to the crystal, Isaac wrapped an arm around his friend's elbow and grabbed the green gem. He flew through it and landed on his feet, being careful to keep Ben from hitting anything as he came down. He was surprised by the fact that a lantern was still burning, until he noticed that the Eileen was sitting in a chair, with a book on her lap. She'd looked up when he'd come through the crystal, and now she was standing.

"Where were the two of you? And what happened to Ben?"

"Why, were you worried about us, kupo?"

"No, I've got news. Guess who I found today?"

"Let me make a wild guess?" Isaac drawled. "Jacqueline alias the Scarlet Rapier as a vierra red mage taking part in that tournament earlier tonight?"

After about a moment of staring at him, Eileen said, "Alright, you've got some explaining to do."

"In the morning, once Ben's done with his hangover."

"His…?"

"Hangover, kupo."

"Right, you guys have had a busy night I'm assuming. Tomorrow morning, though, first thing!"

"Sure thing. Would you mind helping me get Ben into his bed?"

Eileen nodded an walked over. As she grabbed his shoulders and Isaac took his feet (in a manner which the two were getting used to, by now), they started walking him towards the wall.

"So, how was your," Isaac swallowed, feeling a few beads of sweat go down his forehead and shiver run through the fur on his back, "your date?"

"Oh, it was marvellous," Eileen told him, getting a faraway look in her eyes. "We had to leave right away, of course, because the battle was so soon. We held hands as we walked there, and…"

Isaac managed to get through the next few minutes via murdering Quin over and over again in his mind in increasingly violent manners. Finally, once the two had gotten their larger friend into his bed, they walked back into the main room of the home.

"Well, I'm going to stay up for a little while to read. How about you?"

"I think I'll just go hit the hay, kupo," Isaac said, rubbing his head, "I may not be drunk, but the ale is definitely giving me a bit of a headache."

"You took him out drinking?"

"If you were in the same situation, kupo, you'd have done the same."

Eileen shook her head, muttering, "You'd better have a good explanation."

Isaac walked through his wall, then, once it was firmly sealed behind him, took a deep breath and slipped his belt off, hanging it up with his blade still attached to it. He stretched a bit, and then climbed into his bed, muttering to himself, "Good night, Eileen."


	20. On the Road Again

Isaac was surprised by the fact that it wasn't him who had a mind-numbing headache when he woke. This person, was, in fact, Ben. Isaac, Eileen and Ezel were all speaking in the storefront when they heard a thumping noise coming from the wall, followed by a string of groans and curses. These groans and curses were followed by Ben, who melted the wall and stepped out.

Now came the moment they'd all been waiting for. They'd known that it would be difficult to get Ben to do anything in his hung-over form, and that he would probably tune out into depression the moment somebody mentioned Jacqueline. The fact that they would be travelling with Marche, whom it appeared Ben hated, wouldn't help the matter here. Thus the three had spent a few hours thinking about how to put it to him after Isaac had told them about Marche's proposition. None of them knew how to begin, but fortunately Ben handled this for them.

"Oh, my head…"

"Good morning, kupo!" Isaac said as brightly as he could.

"How was your sleep?" Eileen asked.

"I want to die…"

"I know something that will make you feel better, kupo," Isaac said.

"Is it a sharp knife or a tall bottle of arsenic?"

"Better," Eileen told him.

"There is nothing better right now…"

"How about a blue mages' tournament?" Ezel asked, smirking evilly.

Ben looked (or squinted) up at him, and groaned, "As soon as you stop spinning upside down, I'm going to cut your grinning head off."

"What if I were to tell you that that blue mages' tournament will take two weeks of hard travel to reach?"

"Death…"

"What if I told you that—"

"Stop, Ezel," Eileen said, "there's a limit on how mean you can be."

"You really don't know me that well, do you?"

"What if _I _were to tell you," Isaac interrupted, reaching into his pocket and grabbing the brochure from the day before, "that participating in the tournament will get you closer to seeing _her_?"

Instantly, Ben was standing, and to his credit he was barely even swaying. "When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow, kupo."

"Sweet, I'm going to pack. See you at lunch."

With that, he walked back to his room, and only tripped once.

"I told you that it would be easy, kupo," Isaac said. "I need to clean up the workroom before we go. I'll see you guys later."

As he headed around the counter and left the room, the young moogle managed to hear Eileen telling Ezel that she was "just going to tell Quin." Isaac, for his part, simply let one of his ears twitch a bit while he walked through the door. One positive thing about heading to Cyril: Quin wouldn't be there. He felt he would go mad if he kept hearing about Quin. Sure, he was a great guy from all he heard, but still, did she have to talk about him all the time? Couldn't she just stop talking about him for a few minutes, at least?

He sighed and shook his head. Wow, he was starting to get annoyed by all this thinking about it. Maybe there wouldn't be much of an issue if he didn't think about it, but he just couldn't _stop_ thinking about it. Darn it.

He finally got to cleaning up the workshop. The heat was killing him, but he figured that it was the least that he could do to make it up to Ezel for housing them for so long.

He picked up the various pieces of fabric and string from the floor, putting them into the drawers around the room. He let out a long yawn as he bent down to grab another piece, rubbing one of his eyes. Wow, he had been up pretty late last night. He had to start getting to bed earlier at night, and preferably without getting involved in mortal combat. He bent down to grab some smaller pieces, letting his head drooping down…

_He fought for his life, and nothing more. Why did he even want to? His life was pointless as it was, simply living to kill and to fight. He had no chance of surviving forever, so why did he continue doing battle? He stepped out into the open space of the arena, and heard the people screaming. Not in horror at the carnage before them, but in pleasure of it. What kind of monsters were they? Who could possibly do this to somebody, let alone enjoy watching it? As he stood there, he could just faintly remember a different time, a time when he had been free, when he hadn't had to fight, when he'd been happy. It was a different world, literally, than this one. A world where he lived beside four close friends. Occasionally, he felt that he could sense one ore more of them around him, but it was never true. Sighing, he took the last steps forward to the side of the huge, inhuman figure next to him. He felt the prick jabbing him sharply in the side and the shackles falling from his wrists, and then he remembered why he didn't just let somebody run him through in the ring. The rage. It came at him again, making him invincible and impervious to pain. He just charged ahead and fought, fought, FOUGHT! He just wanted his blade to cut in, to reach through to **TOUCH**—_

Isaac sat up suddenly; sweat pouring down, but not from the heat this time. He shook himself, and tried to stand up. However, he was shuddering too sharply to manage a step, so he just sat back down. The dreams were getting stronger. Every time that he met one of his old companions, the dreams of them stopped, but the dreams of the others became so much stronger. Maybe he only had a limited ability to see the dreams or something. That was probably how he'd been able to see so much of Eileen, and probably why he hadn't had many dreams since. He'd used up so much energy on that dream.

Shuddering still, Isaac pulled himself into a tight ball, hugging his knees into his chest. They had to find Maxwell.

"Oh, Isaac, I was wondering if you had any—" Eileen began as she walked in, looking at a list. She looked up at him and stopped in her tracks. "Isaac? Are you alright?"

"Maxwell," Isaac said simply. "I can't go on knowing that he's hurt, kupo. He's afraid, he's in pain, he's—" Isaac stopped, shuddering violently.

Eileen walked softly over to him and reached forward to wrap him up into a strong hug. "It's alright. We'll find him."

"But what if it's not fast enough, kupo?"

"We'll get there fast enough," Eileen said.

"Yeah, but he's being held! And _he _can't escape! How are the three of us going to save him if _he_ can't save _himself_?"

"We'll do it," Ben said. The two turned to see him leaning against the doorway. "Your really need to stop underscoring the three of us. I mean, seriously, I was in line to lead a thieves' guild, Eileen is one of the best potential masters of Alchemy ever, and you're an amazing gunner. Brute force, while Max has got it in excess, isn't everything. Especially not in this world."

"Is it enough, kupo?"

"It's always been enough in the past," Eileen told him. "The five of us have always been enough for each other. Besides," she smirked, rubbing his headfur, "we owe him one for saving us from Thomas that day."

They just stood there for a short while, in the silence and company of each other, before Isaac told them, "Famfrit, we are so _bloody_ clichéd."

"Clichés have to have some sort of basis on reality," Eileen said. "So, anyways," she said, standing and helping Isaac up, "are you packed yet?"

"What? It's only been at most ten minutes, kupo!"

"Are you kidding?" Ben asked. "It's been almost a day! We have to go!"

Isaac groaned in annoyance. "These bloody dreams are getting on my nerves, kupo."

"Yeah, well, nothing we can do for that, though it is nice to know why you weren't there for supper," Eileen told him, "now get packed."

With that, she and Ben left, and Isaac went to his room to pack up his few small possessions. All he really had was his gun, his empty bandolier, and his blade. He put them on, and grabbed his empty pack, walking back out into the main room. Ezel was waiting for him there. He was behind his counter per usual, sorting through his cards and arranging them into piles.

"Eileen and Ben are already heading for the gate to meet Marche's group. You should get going, soon."

"Don't worry, I'll make it, kupo."

"So, you guys are finally leaving, then."

"Yeah, but we don't really have a choice, kupo."

"It's alright," the irrepressible nu mou said, smirking, "I don't care what anybody says, it's annoying having guests."

Isaac shook his head. "It's been fun, whatever you say."

"Yeah, it has. Hey, there's something that I have to tell you."

"What's that, kupo?"

"Watch out for them."

"Kupopo?"

"For Eileen and Ben, I mean. They're both good and powerful, and they can handle themselves in a fight better than anybody. But they tend to get into trouble, much more trouble than they can get out of on their own. And if there's one thing I've seen from you during the past month, it's been how protective you are of them. You're a martyr for people you care about. That's important. You may think that you're the weakest out of all of your friends, but don't believe that. I've seen you shoot and I've seen you with that blade, and no matter what you think you're good. And also, you've got morals and values, which are much more important than being able to kill somebody. Remember that, during everything that happens."

"Thanks, kupo," Isaac said after a time, not knowing what else to say. "Don't worry, we'll be back."

"Of course. Oh, and here, take this," Ezel said, handing him a package. "Don't open it until you've left, too. Don't let this little conversation go to your head either, or tell it to anyone! If people found out that I actually pay attention to anything, they might start talking, or thinking that I care that they can't afford a million gil."

"And we wouldn't want that, would we, kupo?"

"Of course not. Now get out of here, or else you'll miss the caravan, and then you'll have stay in Cadoan for another few months, and you're not getting to stay with me any longer! I've had enough of you."

Isaac nodded to him, smirking. He then stepped over to the crystal and slapped it with his open palm.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Alright, that's everybody," Marche said, more to himself more than anyone else once Isaac showed up. "Let's roll out, we can make introductions once we're on the way."

With that, he jumped into the back of the wagon which carried most of Clan Nutsy's equipment. He apparently always travelled out of sight when they had to go past any guards. His face was far too recognisable.

Jocelyn, who sat at the head of the wagon with Eileen, cracked a whip, and the chocobos leading the wagon started moving. Isaac and Ben fell into step with Montblanc and four other members of the Clan on the ground or riding chocobos. The sun was barely up, and already the warmth of the sun was beating down on them.

"Why is it always so hot here, kupo?" Isaac complained.

"Just because you're used to Baguba's breezes and rain doesn't mean that it's normal everywhere. But don't worry, Cyril is much cooler. It's right next to the Ulei River, so the things are less oppressive. That's what I've heard at least."

"Great," Isaac said. "So, you've never been to Cyril?"

"No, my experience is pretty much limited to Sprohm and Cadoan. And that's pretty lucky for me, I guess."

"Why?"

"From what I hear, the thieving communities are much more powerful and dangerous in Cyril, Baguba and Muscadet than in Cadoan. I get the feeling that if I had ever joined one of them, I'd already be dead."

"Trussst me, you would," a young bangaa standing next to them said. He was young enough that he had not a single one of the wrinkles which were common in grown bangaas. He was using a large spear as a walking stick, and his muscled arms and chest were apparent even under the dark blue robes he wore under his shining steel armour. Over his head he wore one of the large helms preferred by bangaa which covered most of the head and gripped under their muzzles. "They are capable of thingsss you've never imagined."

"No, you trust me, I can imagine a lot," Ben promised. "You can come up with some pretty horrible ideas of what you think will happen to you late at night."

"I'm glad that I don't know," the bangaa said. "I'm going to assssume that you are Ben, the thief and blue mage?"

"Naturally. And you are?"

"Robert. I am trained as a templar of Adrammelech," the bangaa said, and the touch of pride in his voice was impossible to miss.

"Aren't you a bit…" Ben searched for a word, "young for a templar? Or at least an official one?"

"Who sssaid that I'm official?" Robert demanded.

"Well, I just assumed…"

"If you mussst know, I wass training as a templar with the palaccce, but I disssagreed with much of what the teachersssssaid. They told me not to feel, to sssimply obey ordersss. Not to think, not to believe." The young bangaa shook his head. "I could never live sssuch an empty life. Thusss, I joined thisss clan, for itssss leader, now my commander, ssseemed to underssstand the truth of thingsss."

"So you're a templar with emotions?" Ben asked.

"Precccissely."

"Dangerous combination."

"You've no idea, kupo," Montblanc said, rolling his eyes from the top of his chocobo. He had ridden up beside them as they'd been talking, and seemed to have fallen into step with the three. "It's somewhat annoying at times, kupo."

"What is?" Robert asked, looking somewhat offended.

"The fact that it took me years of study to be able to defeat any large number of enemies with my magic, kupo, and he can whip that spear around with barely any preparation and take down an entire camp! I mean, he's just fifteen, kupo!"

"Montblanc, might I remind you that you are but fourteen?" asked an elderly nu mou who wore long white robes.

"True, but I trained for _twelve years_! How long did _you_ train for, Robert?"

"Two yearsss of official training…"

"See, kupo?"

"…and I had been trained by my eldersss in the midst of the deserts sinccce I was born."

The nu mou gave Montblanc one of those, _Oh yeah, that's right, _kind of looks, then turned to Isaac and Ben. "You two must be Isaac and Ben. I'm Guinness, the company healer. I hope that the two of you and your friend up there can live up to your reputations."

"Reputations, kupo?"

"Yes, apparently the two of you took on several members of the Cadoan thieves' guild?"

"With help from Eileen, yes—"

"Oh, yesss," Robert broke in, "and then the three of you broke out of capture without a ssssingle weapon and essscaped a man who knew Ultima Shot!"

"We managed to steal some weapons, kupo!"

"Not to mention that only the two of you managed to nearly beat Jacqueline and several of her guards, kupo!"

"Are you kidding?" both Isaac and Ben asked as one.

"She kicked our rears without breaking a sweat!" Ben exclaimed.

"And that in only about a minute, kupo!"

"Besides," Eileen broke in from the wagon, "you guys have a much more impressive reputation."

"No doubt embellished," Guinness defended.

"You've fought gods."

"Only demigods, technically. It's not like we've gone and fought Shiva or Bahamut here!"

"Alright, so you guys have fought _demi_gods, then. And won, by all reports."

"Still, the three of you _have _built up quite a reputation," Guinness insisted. "We were wondering whether perhaps any of you would like to practise with us in the mornings. At current, we number seven, and that is not enough to train equally."

"I wouldn't mind, kupo," Isaac said, "only problem is that I don't have any ammo with me, and I'm getting sick of blundering around with this blade."

"Too bad, kupo, it would be nice to have another moogle around," Montblanc lamented. "How about you, Ben?"

"I'm in. Besides, I'm going to need to practise my Blue magic if I want to win this competition."

"Eileen?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. We need a few more mages to train against. Oh, right, here are the other two members of our clan who are with us." Guinness beckoned the other two over. "These are Lindsay and Caitlin."

"A pleasure," said Lindsay, a shapely young vierra summoner. She wore the traditional and extremely noticeable garb of a summoner, from the soft white silk bodysuit, to the large green pantaloons which sported countless pockets, all the way to the massive horn sticking out of the band around her forehead. Her eyes possessed some sort of faraway nature to them, as though she was too busy paying attention to something else at the moment to care about what everybody was talking about. "You are the three journeying with us?"

"Yes, kupo."

"Very well," she said, and then turned away again.

"Sorry about her," Caitlin said, shaking her head so that her shoulder-length blonde hair fell across her face. Her human face held several scars all the way across it, including one which crossed just below an eye and across her lips to her chin. She had a sword bound to a belt around her waist. The sword looked old and battered, yet still incredibly sharp. There was a long red ribbon attached to the end of the hilt which drooped down to just below her knee. "She can be a bit distant at times."

"That's what dealing with the _real _gods can do to you," Guinness said.

"It isss extremely difficult to hold a conversssation with her," Robert admitted, "but you should sssee her in a fight."

"That seems to be a recurring theme amongst your vierra," Isaac muttered, casting a quick glance up at Jocelyn. Her face had remained completely stony and her mouth perfectly shut for the entire conversation.

"What can we say, kupo?" Montblanc asked. "When you see some of the crazy things we have, you get to be like that. You should see the rest of the clan, kupo."

"This isn't all of them?" Ben asked.

"Of course not. There's over twenty of us, but we tend to work in separate groups. That way we can do the most jobs, kupo. We've actually got three members who do nothing but solo requests and the like."

"But," Robert interjected, "we are the bessst group."

"Now stop getting all conceited!" Marche ordered as he jumped out of the back of the wagon. They had, by now, long since cleared the city gates, and were on the long path which lead towards the small mountain range which caused the somewhat barren conditions of Cadoan. "We're out here on business."

"Since when has that ever stopped us?" Caitlin asked.

"Never, but it's usually good just to say it, so that I can tell myself that I'm trying," Marche shrugged. "So, what are we discussing?"

"Ben and Eileen have agreed to join our morning training."

"Great. Why not Isaac?"

"Out of ammo, kupo."

"Too bad, it would've been fun. Either way, we've got a long day ahead of us. Let's roll out!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

They made good time that day. In fact, by the end, when Isaac sat beside the fire, keeping watch with Robert, whom he found he got along with quite well, he actually had to put on his longsleeve shirt and his cut-off gloves again, the ones he hadn't worn since he'd been on _the Torrent_. Normally, in Cadoan, he would sleep in as few layers as possible.

As he paced around the campsite they'd made, he remembered the package that Ezel had given him. He walked over to it and ripped the brown paper off of it, trying not to wake anybody. Inside was a small chest, with the symbol of a gun branded onto it. Curious, Isaac popped the curious box open, and his breath caught in his throat.

Inside was a gun and two full bandoliers of ammo. In any other situation, Isaac wouldn't have thought this extremely impressive, but in Cadoan, it must have cost Ezel a fortune to find, let alone to buy!

"Hey, what'sss that?" Robert asked.

"A gift from a friend, kupo," Isaac said, still barely believing it. He reached into the box and picked up the gun by its handle. Pulling it out, Isaac couldn't help but whistle.

"What?"

"It's a Longbarrel."

"What doesss that mean?"

"Some of the finest guns crafted. Apparently, a couple weeks of using one of these things, and you'll never miss another shot again. How did he find this, kupo?"

He simply sat there, staring at the Longbarrel and the fire reflected on its polished black surface. This gift touched him like no other ever had. He didn't even know that Ezel had known anything about guns. But then again, Ezel seemed to know everything.

"Ssso?" Rob said leadingly.

"What, kupo?" Isaac asked, startled out of his stupor.

"Are you going to try it out?"

Smirking up at Robert, Isaac grabbed one of the bullets from the belts and shoved it into the gun's cock. He pulled back the safety, twirled the entire Longbarrel around his finger, then pointed down at a twig on the ground. "Would you mind throwing that as hard as you can for me, kupo?"

"Of courssse," Rob said. He grabbed the stick, and, taking a deep breath, heaved it up into the sky.

Isaac followed it up, his gun sited on it the entire time. Then, he felt the heat flare up in his veins, the fire of excitement and concentration, and filtered them into the gun, and pulled the trigger.

A fireshot flew through the air, leaving a cherry-red path in their vision. It smashed into the stick, which promptly burst into flames.

His smile widened as Isaac gave the gun one more good twirl and shoved it into his belt beside his other gun. He grabbed the two bandoliers and easily swooped them around his frame. He felt comfortable now. Now, he felt that he could fight off an army if he wanted to. He turned to Rob, and said, "You know, I think that I will join you guys for practise tomorrow morning."


	21. The Third Eye

Okay, my beloved readers, there's quite a few new things I'm trying in this chapter. Most of you have probably noticed that I've tried to keep my use of magic to a minimum to now, but hey, now things are going to change. Also, I'm going to start changing a lot of the rules of the game (mainly about summoning in this chapter), and I have no regret in doing it, so don't critique me on it! Also, special thanks to Alta Vista's Babel Fish translation website for all the translations of my spells (in case you're wondering, all the spells are in German (Deutsch, baby!)). Anyways, here it is.

**_UPDATED NOTE: Icey the Fox is sorry for mistaking Ramuh with Ifrit, the situation has been resolved, thanks to several people pointing it out to me. Thank you, and please forgive my idiocy!_**

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Alright, we'll probably be reaching the Plains today, so everybody have your weapons ready," Marche was ordering. "Diaghilev is dangerous, and his band is legendary for its speed and ferocity. Granted we're good, but don't anybody get arrogant."

It was morning, and they were eating a quick breakfast of jerky and bread before setting out for the day. They'd been on the road for six days, and were quickly approaching the Giza Plains, the rumoured hideout location of Diaghilev Godeye. Currently, they were just reaching the fringes of the Koringwood, and the trees were starting to thin out into the tall grasslands.

"We're ready for anything, Marche," Montblanc promised. He had abandoned his favoured comfortable clothing, and had switched to a set of black robes and a tall black hat, the combination of which robbed the moogle of his casual look and left in its place a much more frightening and serious one. He clasped a long obsidian rod in his hand which held a constant glow within its length.

"I know you guys are, I just like to make sure. Now, as for our guests," he turned to Isaac, Ben and Eileen. "What will the three of you be doing?"

"How do you mean?" Eileen asked.

"Well, the three of you could help us out with the battle, if you wish. But we don't expect you to; it's not your job."

"Are you kidding?" Ben asked. "What the bloody hell are we supposed to do? Wait around for you guys to come back?"

"I'm warning you in advance, all three of you, and especially Eileen, seeing as you're more likely to face another magic-user: Diaghilev is an extremely powerful Alchemist. He's also rumoured to have a third eye, and if that's true then the odds are extremely good that he already knows that we're coming."

"No problem, kupo," Isaac muttered. "We work best in those situations. Whenever we plan something, we normally regret it in the morning."

"Okay then," Marche said. He climbed on top of his chocobo and drew his knightsword. "Let's roll. Montblanc, Jocelyn and Isaac, tell us if you hear anything."

"Why us three, kupo?" Isaac asked Montblanc as they got going.

"We're moogles and vierra," Montblanc shrugged. "Big ears."

Isaac nodded, not even wondering about why he hadn't included Lindsay. That girl had some issues. At least with Jocelyn, you could be sure that she was listening. Lindsay just seemed as though she'd forgotten that everything existed.

They walked or rode along as they normally did, but with much less conversation and much more clinking of armour and weapons. Isaac, for one, had a bullet loaded into each gun, and he had borrowed a travelling cloak from Montblanc to conceal his blade. He looked about at all of the others. Apart from Montblanc, none of them had changed their appearances dramatically. Robert had added a knightsword to his belt, much older and much less sharp than Marche's, but still reliable. Caitlin had put on a shirt of chainmail and a helmet whose visor she wore lowered. Guinness now carried a staff with him, Jocelyn had her katana and a greatbow with her, and Lindsay, well, Lindsay just walked along, oblivious to everything.

As the day progressed, eventually all conversation died out. The going slowed, mainly due to the horrible design of the road. The road was in fact lower than the normal terrain, which meant that it was much more prone to getting muddy and flooded, and it had rained the day before. The long grass around them didn't give much of a view, nothing but rolling plains for miles. Late in the day, Isaac found himself walking along behind Marche, who was acting as side guard for the wagon, and beside Robert. He was thankful that the strong bangaa was there, for there were places in which somebody as small as a moogle couldn't possibly go on, and at those moments Robert would simply pick him up and carry him, seeing as he weighed barely anything.

As he trudged along through the muck, Isaac found his head beginning to droop. He'd been on the last watch the night before, so he was exhausted. He quickly shook his head and got his focus back, being sure to just keep on walking. He looked up at the sun, perfectly bright after the rain the day before, and sighed. At least it wasn't sweltering anymore. He would have preferred being somewhere near to the coast again (Ben's suggestion of Baguba came to mind), but he wouldn't complain.

Isaac brought his head back down to the road ahead, and had to consciously prevent himself from asking Rob or Marche, "Are we there yet?"

He let his gaze drop down to his feet, and watched them taking their steps. Well, you very rarely heard about this sort of thing in the Final Fantasy video games. On those, they normally just had an airship or took some sort of extremely advanced form of public transport. Like in Final Fantasy VII, where they took that train thing. What was it called again? It didn't matter, he decided. He was here so he might as well keep walking, keep walking, keep walking…

_He gazed out from the tall grass. There they came, the ones they had been waiting for. He tried to focus his power to see which one was their leader, the great Marche, but he found his vision kept slipping to the moogle who was plodding along behind the paladin on the chocobo. He was picking up information from him that was strange, that he wasn't used to… Ah, yes. That must be it. He smirked. Well then, let him see what was going to happen. There was nothing he could do about it. The moogle, whose name he suddenly detected was something with an I… Igor? Ivan? Ian? No, Isaac, that was it. Well, that moogle didn't even have a weapon with him. So let Isaac see it in his helplessness. He assumed that the paladin was the Marche, from all physical descriptions. He looked over at his sniper, and nodded to her, giving her permission to do her work. She lined up a shot at Marche's head. The nu mou smirked and thought, _Have fun watching, Isaac_…_

"Isssssaac?" Rob asked, shaking him out of his reverie.

"Wha…?" Isaac muttered, looking up suddenly.

"You zoned out there," Rob told him, but Isaac wasn't even listening. He was staring into the bushes.

Then Isaac saw it.

A glint, probably from the tip of an arrow.

On instinct more than anything, Isaac threw his left hand out wide to open his cloak and give his arm enough space to reach his Longbarrel. He whipped it out,pointed it and,without thinking, pulled the trigger.

Three noises seemed to happen all at once, though really, they were each one right after the other. Here's the exact order:

Isaac's gun fired, letting out its mechanic clank.

A yelp emitted from the bushes.

A bowstring twanged.

And then an arrow flew from the grass, smacking into the wagon not an inch from Marche's head.

"HOLYMOTHEROFMATEUS!" Marche yelled in shock, but he was already jumping off of his chocobo's back and drawing both his knightsword and his shield.

Instantly, everybody had their weapons out, and they were facing the trees from which the shot had come from. Jocelyn, before anybody could stop (or do anything more than notice) her, had drawn her katana noiselessly and slipped into the trees.

"Everybody form up around the mages!" Marche roared, and Isaac found that he couldn't even begin to question the order. He found himself between Ben and Caitlin in a tight ring around Montblanc, Eileen, Guinness and Lindsay (who didn't seem to have noticed).

They stood there, waiting for any other movement or shot, the tension building up around them. At the slightest rustle of leaves, they would all turn and Isaac's gun would be pointing. After about five minutes of this, Jocelyn stepped almost perfectly silent out of the trees, making her way over.

Isaac, however, didn't see her, but heard her first, and he pointed his gun and pulled the trigger without thought. Jocelyn, in an incredibly quick motion, simply stepped to the side as the bullet flew by.

"Wow, kupo," Isaac muttered. She'd just dodged a shot from a Longbarrel!

"Tracks," she said simply, leaning her head back towards the tiny trees and acting as though she hadn't just dodged a bullet. "Heading north. One nu mou, one vierra. Going fast. I followed them for a while, found a set of wagon tracks, continued north, a bit east."

"Alright," Marche said, nodding, "thanks. I think we've found Diaghilev. Ben, how good are you at tracking?"

"Excellent, to be modest."

"Isaac?"

"My ears are sharp, kupo, but I can't say the same about my eyes."

"Okay. Jocelyn and Ben, you guys take the point, if you find anything, _don't act_!" He said this, looking at Jocelyn as though it were a common problem. "Come back and report to me first, and then we'll take the place down as a team. Remember: don't _anybody _make a move before somebody drops a judgepoint. All we need is another conviction against us."

Jocelyn and Ben nodded, then the two drew their curved swords and took off into the tall grasses and bushes, neither of them making a single sound. Marche then turned to the remaining seven members of the group, and told them, "I want everybody ready for an attack. As little talking as possible. Cait, you're on the left, Rob, the right, Eileen, you go with Rob, Montblanc, you're with Cait, and then Guinness and Lindsay, you… Lindsay? Lindsay!" She shook her head and looked over at him as though she had just realised he existed (which she probably had). "Okay, Lindsay, you stick with Guinness. Guinness is the nice nu mou in white robes next to you right now. No, that's Montblanc, on your other side. Right. Okay, Guinness, just stick in the middle, and make sure she doesn't wander off. Isaac, you and I are taking the lead. Your guns loaded?"

"They are now," Isaac said, closing the latch to the ammo dock.

"Good. Alright, get in to your places, and let's roll."

They advanced slowly through the trees and grass. Each one tried at the beginning to be quiet, but after Lindsay once again stumbled, they figured it was pointless. There was still very little conversation betweenthem, but occasionally they did break out into small words.

"Hey Isaac," Marche asked at one point, his voice so soft the moogle's sharp ears could barely pick it up. "Thanks for saving me earlier."

"No problem, kupo. You've done the same for me."

"I was meaning to ask you something. How did you know that shot was coming? I mean, there's no way that you managed to outdo Jocelyn."

"Why do you say that, kupo? I'm pretty good."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but nobody outdoes Jocelyn at this sort of thing."

"Well, to tell the truth, I think that I'd like to talk to a mage about it."

"I know some magic myself," Marche offered. "I mean, I _have _conversed with Mateus as one of his greatest servants. Not to brag, of course."

"Well then I guess this won't seem too weird," Isaac muttered. "Listen me out. I think I fell asleep as I was walking, and suddenly, it was like I _was _Diaghilev for a minute. I could see him and, and _feel _him, kupo, and at the same time, he was seeing and feeling me, and he knew my name, just by looking at me, kupo! He was trying to see you, but he kept having to look at me. Then he told a sniper to shoot you, and thought, 'Have fun watching, Isaac'. That's when Rob woke me up and I saw them in the bushes seeing me. I saw the arrow, kupo, and then I reacted."

"Wow," Marche told him. "We would not be having this conversation back home, would we?"

"I doubt it. So what do you think, kupo?"

"You guys can ask Diaghilev," Ben said as he dropped down next to the two from the low trees. Isaac jumped back with a surprised, "Kupo!", but Marche simply turned to look at him and nod, not in the least caught off guard.

"Where is he?"

"They're camped probably five hundred metres ahead."

"And where's Jocelyn?"

"No idea."

"Darn it," Marche muttered. "We'd better act fast. How many?"

"I'd say at least twenty."

"Great, two each. Do the three of you think you can keep up with that?"

"Sorry, kupo, but I tend to like going into a fight when the odds are with me."

"Oh, if you must," Marche looked back at Lindsay. "Looks like she's going to get some work on this one. Let's roll, then."

Their group, nine of them with Jocelyn missing, quickly headed forward into the underbrush. Now they were quiet, attempting to keep the element of surprise for as long as possible in the closed area. About four hundred fifty metres later, and they could hear the sounds of the camp, all preparing for battle. Marche looked back at Lindsay, and after several attemptsmanaged to catch her eye and nodded, then drew a judgepoint. Taking a deep breath, he stood up straight and threw the card into the air, crying above the sounds of the camp, "I declare an engagement!"

Instantly there was a roar of surprise and rage from the camp, and Marche yelled, "Down!", throwing himself to the ground as a few arrows flew by overhead. Everybody else followed his suit quickly, aside from Lindsay, who simply stood there as the hail went by her remarkably without hitting her.

Isaac turned to Marche, about to ask him whether he should knock her down, but the young commander shook his head, and instead ordered, "Leave her there, she can take care of herself. Just try to take out a few of their archers." Isaac nodded to him and started belly crawling closer to the camp for a better view, but Marche grabbed his foot and warned him, "Oh, and don't get too close. Things are about to get really hot in here."

Shrugging, Isaac simply stood up, realising that he simply had to crouch to be mostly covered by the tall grass. Taking a deep breath, he straightened fully and took in the situation below him. He had an instant to see the small camp with a wagon on the outskirts and a small campfire in the middle before he had to duck to dodge the four or five arrows that came at him. Stunningly, none of the arrows hit Lindsay once again.

"How does she do that, kupo?" Isaac demanded.

"Luck, more than anything. She's been taken down once or twice while doing this, but… oh, crap, they're sending their warriors forward."

Isaac turned and saw that Marche was right and that indeed a few soldiers had begun advancing on their position. Gritting his teeth, Isaac drew his blade and waited.

Fortunately, his waiting was all in vain, for at that moment, Lindsay's back suddenly straightened, and she opened her eyes and mouth. _That _was an impressive sight, to say the least. Her eyes burned with fury, and not metaphorically. They were literally on fire, with flames leaping out at the sky. The same thing was happening with her mouth as her feet slowly left the ground and she began hovering a couple feet above the ground. An arrow came in at her chest, but it instantly burst into flames when it got near her. The sky dimmed and wind gathered about her, tugging at her hair and clothes as she took in deep breaths, then she looked straight down at the archers, who had all stopped in wonder.

"_Komm Ifrit!"_ she cried, pointing at them with both hands.

Instantly, the wind which had been gathered around her whipped away from her, sending a sweltering blast of heat over all of Clan Nutsy, Isaac, Ben and Eileen. Then, down from the clouds, descended a great and terrible figure: A red minotaur, holding a great powerful hammer in his hand, and wreathed in flames. The bull's head with its eyes filled with fire and wisdom looked down at where the summoner was pointing, and raised his hammer into the air.

Instantly, a great pillar of flames rushed down from the sky and onto the encampment. Before any of the rangers gathered throughout the camp could even scream, they were caught up in the inferno and incinerated.

There was silence for a moment as everybody stared at what was left of the camp. Namely, a large black scorch on the ground. The sky had cleared again, Lindsay had collapsed to the earth from exhaustion, and the great horned figure had disappeared. Isaac said under his breath, "Hot damn, kupo."

"Literally," Marche muttered. "This is why we keep her around."

"Incoming!" Robert roared, rushing past them from out of nowhere. His spear rushed forward as a fighter who'd managed to sneak up without Isaac or Marche noticing rushed right back at him just as fast. The two met, and the fighter's two blades flashed upwards, knocking the speartip dangerously high. Robert, however, simply let go of the spear and took the last few steps forward and drove his fist upwards into a devastating uppercut which lifted the human off his feet and through the air several metres back. As the unfortunate fighter landed, totally out cold, Robert twirled around and caught his spear, spinning it around his hand until it was comfortably at his back, with the tip pointing at the ground to the left.

"Nice work," Marche complimented.

"Shall we get to work?" the young bangaa asked his partners.

"Duck!" Caitlin screamed at him. Robert complied just in time for a broadsword to not cleave through his spine. Montblanc took a step forward and pointed with his staff, crying out, "_Blitzra!_"

Electricity reached out from his staff in two clawed fingers and smashed the broadsword-wielder in the face, throwing him backward and spasming in agony. Caitlin rushed up in the wake of the lightning, squaring off with the next in the line of fighters coming at them.

"Gentlemen," Marche said in a dull way which reminded Isaac a good deal of Captain Rolf, "let's roll."

Marche exploded into sudden motion, flying forward with his knightsword grasped tightly in his right hand and his shield in his left. He went right past Caitlin, who was swinging her sword with amazing speed and grace at her opponent and scoring dozens of small hits, and met up with his first opponent: a vierra with a rapier. She thrust quickly, hoping to turn Marche's speed against him, but he literally slapped the rapier away with his shield and drove his weapon through her stomach. Not even stopping, he took another quick step to the side, spinning to hack right through a mog knight's shield and then bringing his shield out to smack the moogle in the face. He spun back to his former position, where two enemies were waiting for him. They each slashed, but Marche blocked both attacks with shield and knightsword, throwing the stabs up high. Suddenly, he knelt and drove his sword into the ground, muttering something that couldn't be heard. Instantly, light exploded from him and knocked the two warriors flying back to the ground, where they stopped and didn't get up.

"Holy crap," Ben muttered as he walked up beside Isaac. "Do you think that we're a bit out of our league?"

"Only a bit, kupo," Isaac responded, watching as the clan drove right through the centre of the fighting force which outnumbered them three to one. "Shall we join in?"

"I should say so."

The two joined the charge of the great clan, blade and sabre slashing with bloody execution. Isaac simply hacked at heels and knees, trying to trip enemies up for the others to take down more easily. Ben, for his part, eventually just sheathed his katana and began using his blue magic to its full extent, biting, clawing and roaring as they went.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Eileen watched all this at the back with Guinness and Lindsay, throwing in an occasional spell every now and again. She glanced casually over at Guinness. "How much work do you actually get to do with this group?"

"They can not always simply overpower every foe," the old white mage informed her. "So, I actually get a good deal of practise here. Though I must say, the company is a bit lacking during battles. Montblanc is always right in beside the others, acting like he can take a thousand hits and continue battling. It would be nice to have another mage back here, at least for my own protection."

"Too late to feel regretful for that," said a voice from behind them.

The two spun to meet Diaghilev Godeye straight in his face. He wore the long cloaks of an alchemist, except that the eye on his hat was, much like Ezel's, made of gold.

_Why do all the powerful alchemists go mad?_ Eileen wondered. However, she simply said, "Greetings, Diaghilev Godeye." They were the words which all alchemists had to say to each other before a duel, and Eileen knew them well. "Unfortunate though it may be that we two are on opposite sides of this coin, the battle rages still."

The much more experienced and much older alchemist stared at her, saying, "Greetings, young Eileen Mindclear." Eileen winced at the use of her official name as an alchemist. It was a double-entendre which the council had made up for her, both for her clear head in tense situation and love of meditation, as well as to suggest that she wasn't actually as smart and clever as she seemed. "The battle rages, and we two flip the coin."

"Are you ready for this?" Guinness demanded quietly from behind her.

"This isn't the first duel I've had," she said, pulling the brim of her hat low so that the white eye on its band was more visible.

"Yes, but have you ever had a battle against one who possessed both an official Third Eye _and _who just so happened to have _the _Third Eye?"

"No, in that respect this will be very new," Eileen admitted.

"Great," the white mage sighed. "I'll heal you when I can."

"Thanks."

With that, Diaghilev and Eileen began circling each other. Each nu mou's eyes never left the other's, looking for any kind of stress or calculation in them. They were each waiting for the first move.

Once they'd made one full circle, Diaghilev said, "You realize that none of your friends will come to save you."

"They won't need to," Eileen shot back, her eyelids not fluttering.

"Well, in that case," the other alchemist sighed, then his eyes became hard as steel and he pointed, crying out, "_Sie sterben!_"

Eileen gasped at the sound of the words, and instantly gathered all of her magical power to her soul, surprised that he would use as powerful a spell as Death to open. It tugged hard at her soul string, trying to pull it away or extinguish it, but Eileen forced all of her energy to stave off its coldness. The sensation passed, and she shuddered, though her eyes never left those of Diaghilev.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Isaac was hacking away with his blade when he felt a sudden weariness which he couldn't resist. Instantly, he fell to the ground, realising that he would probably die right about now.

_She gasped at the sound of the words, and instantly gathered all of her magical power to her soul, surprised that he would use as powerful a spell as Death to open…_

"What?" Isaac demanded even as he woke an instant later. That was definitely one of the shortest dreams he'd ever had. But what could it mean? Just by fluke more than anything, Isaac turned and saw the two alchemists engaged in their duel. "Oh."

He turned to the others, and cried out as loud as he could, "We've got a problem, kupo!"

Unfortunately everybody was so filled with battle lust that only Cait, who was hanging back, heard him. She turned and saw, then said, "Dammit. Let's go!"

The two broke off from the rest of the group and headed back towards the hill, realising that the others would never hear them. As they began their approach, they heard somebody yell, "Now!" and five more soldiers rushed out from the trees at them.

"Where does he keep getting these guys, kupo?" Isaac demanded as the two kept running towards the crowd.

"He's rich, he can do these sorts of things. Here, get on my shoulders!" she ordered. Isaac complied, leaping and flapping up. "Get to them. I'll hold these five."

Isaac nodded, then realising that she couldn't see him, said, "Alright, kupo."

Caitlin ran the last couple steps, then swung her sword at the small crowd, crying out, "Go!"

Isaac jumped.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Good," the alchemist said, "you can fend off a powerful status effect spell. Now let's see how you deal with da—"

"No," Eileen snapped, "let's see how you deal with it. _Giftig!_"

Green gas rose from the ground at his feet, drifting up to his nostrils. However, strangely, he stopped breathing. He simply stopped breathing, and smiled at her. Then, he raised a hand and the gas drifted away.

"Clever," he said, "catching me off guard. Well, it seems as though this is going to come down to a simple beat down. Let me begin. _Mete—_"

Eileen, recognizing the first two syllables of the spell and realising that she couldn't possible dodge, stop or survive it, raised a hand and cried, "_Wasser!_"

A ball of water flew forward and hit the nu mou in the face, making him cough and swallow his words even as they came out. Once he could speak again, he laughed.

"Is that the best that you can do for damage? Simply stealing the abilities of the sages?" the Alchemist shook his head in disgust. "However, you'll have to excuse me for a moment."

With that, he spun and pointed, apparently into the sky and cried, "_Sie sterben!_"

This time, Eileen saw the dark ripple rushing through the air. It leaked into a figure which was flying through the air, which let out a surprised, "Kupo!". Then, there was a horrible sucking noise, and as Isaac hit the ground his blade fell from his limp grasp and he rolled over, dead.

"Sorry about that," Diaghilev said, sighing. "It is _so_ annoying when people try to interrupt a duel."

"Bastard," Eileen spat.

"At times. Now, show me what you can do."

Eileen raised her hands, and screamed, "_Auflackern!_", at the exact same moment as Diaghilev. They each threw themselves to the side as the earth exploded and two pillars of flame rose into the sky. Eileen got back to her feet and turned just in time to see Diaghilev swing his mace and crack it over the head of the undefended Guinness, throwing him to the ground. She gritted her teeth. This was beginning to annoy her.

She threw another water attack at him, but Diaghilev managed to knock the ball of water away with his mace (it actually reminded her a good bit of baseball). Diaghilev yelled something that Eileen didn't catch, and green gas rose around her. Without a thought, she cried out without pausing for that fatal breath, "_Luft!_"

The winds whipped around her violently, buffeting her painfully, but the poison was instantly dispersed. She took a deep breath, panting in exertion and pain, but her eyes had yet to leave those of Diaghilev's.

"Ah, very nice improvisation," Diaghilev said. "You know, if you ever wish to earn a Third Eye, you ought to learn the _proper _counters for all the alchemist spells. Not to mention, it will also help you stay alive in the more dire situations."

"Like right now?" Eileen responded, arching an eyebrow.

"This? Dire?" the alchemist laughed. "I haven't even gotten started yet."

"Really? Then get started. _Auflackern!_"

The ground rumbled with built up heat beneath Diaghilev Godeye, and he simply smiled, pointing his hands down at the ground, muttering something under his breath. Eileen felt the massive flow of energy going from her to the spell cut out, and with it the rumbling ended.

"You want me to get started?" he asked, smiling devilishly. "Fine then."

He pointed, and cried out, "_Energie Abfluss!_"

The breath left Eileen and she fell to her knees as she felt all of her energy fly away from her. Her magic…

"You're very good, Mindclear," Diaghilev admitted. "Especially for a novice. I'm very surprised that you haven't been promoted to the position of master, or even Third Eye yet. But then again, the council has always been somewhat biased. It's been an honour to do battle with you. But now, unfortunately, I'll have to bid you adieu."

He pointed at her, and suddenly his voice lowered several decimals and he called out, "_Meteorit!_"

For the second time that day, the sky dimmed and fire appeared in it, this time enshrouded around a great lump of rock as it plummeted through the air, directly at her. Eileen closed her eyes, and the massive meteorite crushed her.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Caitlin knocked the sword of her last opponent out far to the side, delivered a punch to his jaw,then quickly ran him through to the hilt. She sighed and shook her head, looking at the five bodies littered around her. She caught her judgepoint and stepped forward, reaching into one of her deeper pockets for a bandage. She wrapped it around a large gash in her left arm, securing it to stop the bleeding. Her foot hit something, and she stumbled unsteadily. She quickly looked down, and sighed as she saw Isaac's body, totally unmarked by weapons. Well, apparently their plan hadn't worked. She continued on, and found Lindsay lying on the ground, though after a quick check she determined that the vierra was simply exhausted, not dead. Next to her lay Guinness, who had a large bruise rising on his head. He'd definitely had a nasty run-in with Diaghilev.

Finally, Caitlin stepped forward and saw two things: Eileen's blackened corpse, still smouldering from the meteor impact, and Diaghilev, standing there panting. He looked up at her as she approached.

"Well," he gasped, "I doubt that I can take down your entire clan, but I guess you're next."

Caitlin drew her sword in a flash of scraping steel, the ribbon fluttering in the wind, but she didn't need to. Even as the blade began appearing from the depths of the sheath, Jocelyn jumped forward, from apparently nowhere, and reached an arm around Diaghilev's neck. Shadows gathered around that hand, shaping into a curved and wicked knife. As the alchemist's eyes widened in shock, the skilled assassin drove the shadowy knife up through his neck and into his brain. The light instantly left his eyes, and he collapsed to the ground, dead.

"Nice timing," Caitlin commended.

"You provided the distraction," Jocelyn quickly responded.

"Too bad you didn't get here a bit faster," Caitlin lamented, looking down at Eileen.

"I _was_ here. It looked like she could take him."

"Apparently not. Is he the last one?"

"Should be."

Even as the assassin finished saying this, a white light enveloped Eileen, and her skin began regaining its normal colour and her light grey fur grew back in. Caitlin sighed and pulled off her bandage, watching the skin fold over the cut. This was the best part of any engagement.

Eileen's eyes opened wide, and she quickly rolled over to her feet in a standing position. "What happened?"

"I flattened and burned you," Diaghilev told her as he stood up. Caitlin promptly punched him in the face as Jocelyn grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back so that he couldn't move.

"Thanks," Eileen said to Caitlin.

"Anytime."

"Uh," Isaac said, walking up, "I refuse to jump at people from other people's backs anymore. It always ends badly, kupo." He rubbed the fur on the back of his neck, and looked up. His eyes caught those of Diaghilev, and held them. "Are you Godeye?"

"Yes. You're Isaac?"

"Yes. Would you mind telling me something?"

"What? Why I was reading your mind earlier?"

"Er, yes, kupo."

"Because you were reading mine, and that was somewhat rude."

"Ah…"

"I'm assuming your next question is why _you_ were reading _my_ mind."

"That would be nice to know, kupo."

"There are more than one kind of Third Eye."

"Okay, excuse me if I butt in," Eileen said, "but I think I speak for everybody here when I ask what in the name of Ultima are you two talking about?"

"I'm not sure myself, kupo. What do you mean by Third Eye?"

"I mean that you've got a special version of the Third Eye. I have an unparalleled need for specific information, so powerful that my subconscious mind can project images of it to me. Your mind, however, feeds off of relationships. Your subconscious brings you information based on those you have a strong emotional connection with, particularly while they're in periods of high emotional stress or high danger. I'm assuming that that means, quite often, your friends. The reason you managed to read _my _mind is because, well, that the attentions of people with the Third Eye tend to be attracted to each other."

"Er, yeah, kupo."

"Wait a minute," Eileen yelled, breaking the mystique of the moment, "You managed to figure all that out after reading his mind (I'm still trying to get over that part) for not even _one minute_?"

"Yep."

"Wow, I'm impressed."

"What can I say. I like information. Either way," Diaghilev said, "I guess you guys are arresting me?"

"Yes," Jocelyn said.

"And you'll probably break both of my arms if I try to escape?"

"Yes," Jocelyn said.

"Okay, then. Tie me up."

"First things first." Caitlin walked forward, drawing her sword. A look of concentration crossed her face, and her sword was coated by a dull red light. She swung it right through Diaghilev, apparently not cutting anything. However, as soon as she was done, the nu mou slouched. "The prisoners don't get to use magic."

"Shall we take him down to Marche?" Guinness asked as he came up.

They didn't have to, however, for a moment later, Marche, Robert, Montblanc and Ben showed up, leading a group of several dozen prisoners behind them.

"Well, everybody's accounted for," Marche was saying. "We got those five back there. The only person missing is Diaghilev…" he stopped, looking at Jocelyn holding the nu mou. "Oh, well then. I guess we've succeeded in our mission. Nice work, everyone."

Ben walked up to Isaac and whispered quietly to him, "What all did I miss?"

"Apparently I can read minds."

"Really?"

"Yeah, kupo."

"Sweet. We found a prisoner down at their camp. A gladiator."

Even as Ben said it, the ragged bangaa walked up. There were shadows in his eyes and scars on his heavily-muscled body. He had a haunted look to his face, but the thing that truly caught and held one's attention were his eyes: completely dulled and emotionless. He had a limp as he walked.

"This is Pallanza, everybody," Marche addressed his clan. "He's going to be travelling with us from now on."

"Sure thing, sir," Jocelyn said.

"Y-y-you," the bangaa stuttered, and stopped as everybody looked at him, cringing. "You're not going to make me fight, will you?"

"Nobody's going to make you fight if you don't want to, Pallanza," Marche told him reassuringly.

"I don't want to fight. I don't want to. I don't want to go to the sssssssssstadiumssss anymore."

"You won't have to."

"They were going to make me fight _him_. They were going to make me fight Maxwell."

"Don't worry, you're not going to—"

"Wait," Ben said suddenly, and the curious expression on his face was shared perfectly by Isaac and Eileen. "Did he say Maxwell?"

Pallanza cringed and hid his face in his hands upon hearing the name. "Not that one! Not the Dragoon!"

"Don't worry about the dragoon, you're not going to fight him," Marche said, flashing Ben a warning look and telling him, "Don't mention that name around him."

"But we need to know—"

"He's not the only one who knows about it," Marche told him, flashing his eyes over towards Diaghilev, who was watching this with an amused curiosity.

Nodding, Ben turned around and grabbed the alchemist's now-bound hands, lifting him up to his feet and forcing him to walk ahead of him, with Isaac and Eileen in his wake.

Once the four of them had gone several metres into the trees, Ben threw the hapless alchemist to the ground. He started pushing himself up, but Ben placed a foot on his back and forced him back down to the dirt.

"Where were you going to meet Max?"

"We were never going to _meet _Maxwell!" Diaghilev said taunting.

"Don't try us," Ben said. "We need to know how to get to him."

"Why is that?"

"We're asking the questions, here," Eileen said.

"Well, if you won't tell me, I'll have to find out for myself." Diaghilev looked directly at Isaac then, and the moogle felt him pushing his way into his mind. He fought to keep him out, but the nu mou blew right through the pitiful defences, reaching directly to the core of his knowledge.

Realizing what was going on, Eileen stepped forward and dealt Diaghilev a slap across the face, shattering his concentration, but not fast enough.

"Ah, another friend of yours? Well, I can't tell you where he is, then. The three of you are strong enough on your own already."

Ben's sabre was suddenly underneath his chin, cutting a bit into the skin. "Do. Not. Try. Us."

Diaghilev laughed and looked the blue mage in the eye. "You wouldn't."

"No, not first, at least," Ben said. "First, I'd probably take your left hand, then the right, so that you couldn't direct your spells anymore, then your feet, so you couldn't walk, and assuming you wouldn't talk after that, I'd cut your throat, but not enough to kill you, only enough to permanently damage your vocal chords so you _couldn't _talk. Now, tell us."

"No."

Ben whipped his sabre around so that it lay against the top of the nu mou's left wrist. "Won't tell us?"

"No."

Isaac winced as Ben's sabre sunk about a centimetre through the skin. Diaghilev screamed.

"Where is he?" Ben asked as he stopped his sabre.

"Jagd Dorsa!"

Ben pulled his sabre away, and, after wiping the blood off on the ground, sheathed it. He quickly grabbed up Diaghilev again and dragged him back to the camp, with Isaac and Eileen following.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next morning, before anybody else had even awoken, Isaac, Ben and Eileen were already walking. They weren't on the path this time. It was a week's journey to Dorsa in the most direct path, and with the one week return journey and the further one week it would take them to get all the way to Cyril, they had to be fast. They carried only their weapons and a pack of food each, all of it light and filling so it would last.

After they'd returned, they'd announced their desire to go to Jagd Dorsa. Marche had begged them to reconsider, but after they'd refused to change their decision, he'd announced that he couldn't help them. He simply couldn't risk his clan members' lives on such a dangerous mission. None of them blamed him. It took all of their courage at every moment not to turn back, knowing exactly what lay before them: a land where judges couldn't be summoned, where death was a common occurrence. However, not one of them really found it difficult to continue on. Their need to help Maxwell was far too powerful.

They didn't talk to conserve their breath so they could move quickly. In one week they would be in hell.

In one week, they would see Maxwell again.


	22. Hey Maxwell, How's Hell?

The three of them stood there, as though on the edge of a precipice, preparing to jump. To be fair, they may as well have been. Each one of them had learned of the dangerous jagds in one way or another: pub gossip and stories of lost companions, tales from fellow thieves of fallen partners, ancient historical tomes of lost heroes. No matter how careful one was in the rest of the world about keeping a full sash and training their card arm to hone its reflexes, it all came down to nothing in the jagds, where only one's wits and battle prowess could keep one alive.

Isaac was giving a quick prayer to Famfrit, for the first time since he'd come to Ivalice. So far, his patron deity had protected him and given him the skills and luck he'd needed to keep himself and his friends alive. He could only hope that they would hold out through this desolate hellhole, and that nobody would be lost.

Ben was kneeling with his hands shoved into the warm, moist earth, reaching with his magic out into all of the living things for miles around. He took comfort in their presence, their warmth, their simple lack of caring for good or evil, and used the feelings to calm his nerves. He'd seen death in his time in this land. The last thing he wanted was to see it happen to one of his friends from the old world. He knew he would fight or kill for them, even if it meant his own death, just to keep all of them alive.

Eileen was holding her mace out before her horizontally, and was breathing very heavily. She was deep into her meditation, feeling the calmness in her mind and her nerves, and the magic flowing through her veins. She had purposefully chosen not to use any magic for the last week, even when the antlions had attacked them and Isaac and Ben had fought them off. She wanted all of the possible energy she had, so that she would be able to defeat anybody who came at her. The boys would not be able to hold up alone if any mages were to attack, and she was all they had.

As one, without any spoken consent, all three of them took the last step from the normal world of law and order, into the land of chaos and darkness. There was an actual visible difference, with the grass turning from green to a dead grey colour, the air becoming acidic and acrid, and the temperature dropping several degrees from the warmth of a late summer morning to the chill of an autumn evening. They shuddered, and looked at each other.

"It's for Maxwell," Isaac said simply.

"For Maxwell," Ben responded.

"Maxwell," Eileen finished.

The three stepped out together, the cold seeming to completely disappear as they drew strength from each other, and the thought of seeing Maxwell again soon and rescuing him from the hell he was in.

They couldn't be more wrong.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

As they went, the three slowly drew closer together. Isaac's gun was out in his left hand, which was hid under his cloak. Ben's sabre hung easily in his grip, and if anybody looked at it he gave them his most withering glare which made them back down quickly. Eileen's eyes constantly had the light orange glow of her Alchemy magic in their depths, so that people gave them a wide berth as the three walked through the streets.

There were, of course, more intimidating groups there. However, these seemed just as determined to remain unbothered and unwatched as Isaac, Ben and Eileen were.

The further they went, the denser the crowds became. From the scattered shreds of conversation he could pick up, Isaac gathered that many people were there to see the battles taking place in the coliseum. Once or twice he heard whispered names for taking down bets, and more often than not the name betted upon to win was 'Maxwell'.

Suddenly, Ben spun around and his sabre flashed, landing with its blade touching a small human's neck as his other hand grasped the human's wrist tightly. His eyes were steel as he said, "Give me back my money pouch. Now."

The thief nodded, shaking, and pulled out the small pouch. He tossed it to Ben who caught it with his sabre hand, though he still held the wrist. He seemed to weigh the pouch by feel, then attached it back to his belt. He slowly sheathed his sabre, and the thief let out a sigh. A moment later, however, he smacked the man across the face and reached over to feel inside his shirt. He pulled out five, large, shiny gold coin, and placed them back into his pouch.

"Go."

The thief ran off, and the three continued on, for nobody had noticed. Such occurrences were normal in the jagds.

They went on, with the crowds becoming somewhat thicker in the deserted city. It was strange. All of the buildings were either scorched, partially destroyed or falling to pieces, and yet there were still many who came to these lawless lands. It made Isaac wonder why. Who could possibly choose to live this way? In Isaac's mind, life was the most precious thing in the world. People had to live, creatures in general had to live, otherwise what was the point of the universe?

Isaac was shocked from his reverie by somebody yelling something up ahead. Isaac strained his ears to listen, and heard the words, "Tonberries! Tonberries are coming!"

"What is it?" Eileen asked. "You hear better than us."

"Something about tonberries or something like…"

"Run!" Eileen and Ben both yelled.

"What, kupo?"

"Go!" Ben yelled at him. "Fly to the top of that house and get out of sight!"

"Why?"

"They're _tonberries_! Don't you remember them from _any _of the games?" Eileen demanded.

Isaac suddenly had a flashback to a battle on Final Fantasy VII, when a single tonberry, a creature wearing a long cloak with a lizard-like face, glowing yellow eyes and a big butcher knife, took down his entire team.

Isaac jumped up onto Ben's offered arm and leapt again, flapping his wings to gain height as he flew up to the roof. He looked back down at Eileen and Ben.

"What are you two going to do, kupo?"

"We'll find somewhere to hide! Just _get out of sight_!"

Isaac complied, running over to the other side of the roof where he couldn't be seen from the street. He could hear the screams of warning approaching as more and more people heard the cry of "Tonberries, tonberries!" Isaac huddled down into the cracked shingling and steadied his breathing, keeping as quiet as possible.

Suddenly, all of the screaming stopped and there was simple silence, but for the steady sound of shambling footsteps. Instantly, Isaac felt the already unnaturally cold air of the jagd become icy, and he could see the mist rising from his breath. The wind died, and Isaac could hear nothing but those horrible footsteps, shuffling along at a dreadfully slow pace.

Suddenly, they stopped. Another set of footsteps could be heard, then, a single set, moving with slow purpose. Then somebody was screaming.

"Please, no, not me! Not me! NOT M—"

Isaac flinched at a sound which was somewhat akin to a butcher beating meat to make it more tender. Then, there was a horrible wheezing sound, and a bright purple light shone from the other side of the roof. The light died, and there was silence for a time. Then the footsteps continued, and a few minutes later, they had faded into the distance.

Isaac got out from behind the roof and looked down at the street below. He gasped at the sight of a vierra, laying face down on the ground and not moving. Isaac jumped down and let his wings slow his fall as he got down to the earth. He knelt down slowly next to the vierra.

"Dead," Eileen said, walking over to him from the shadows.

"How'd you hide, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"Well, _I _jumped through that window," Ben said as he walked over from a building with a recently shattered windowpane. "Eileen? What did you do?"

"I jumped over a fence or two."

"Since when did you know how to jump over a fence, kupo?" Isaac demanded.

"Don't you remember running away from Thom and his pals when we were younger and didn't have fake guns or Maxwell to save us?" Eileen asked.

"Oh right. Still," the moogle's gaze drifted downward, "how do you know she's dead?"

The three looked back down at the vierra. "From what I've read about Tonberries, they search out ritualistic sacrifices every day to their deity."

"So are they evil, then?" Ben asked, brushing a strand of silver hair from the vierra's face.

"I don't think so. Everything about them suggests they want to protect innocents as best as possible. They naturally try to find anybody with the greatest number of sins on their conscience. Also, they're sacrificial technique deals damage to an opponent based upon the number of their sins."

"So they're good, kupo?"

"Not quite. They have been known to kill complete innocents in the past."

"Then what are they?" Ben asked.

"Pitiable, kupo," Isaac muttered.

"Exactly," Eileen said. "Apparently they're far more common in the jagds than anywhere else so that they're less likely to kill anybody innocent."

Isaac reached over to roll the vierra over onto her front so that they could see the wound, but Eileen grabbed his wrist and held him back, "Trust me, you don't want to do that. It's not pretty."

Isaac was about to do it anyway, but then he noticed the large pool of blood slowly expanding from beneath her form. "Right."

"We should get going," Ben said, looking around. "People are starting to come back out, and we don't want to seem like we're not comfortable here."

The three got up and continued walking.

Eventually, the coliseum came into view, tall and imposing in its strength. There were roars of crowds coming from inside of it. It reminded Isaac somewhat of the night he and Ben had spent waiting outside the arena during the Red mages' tournament, but with one notable difference: before, the crowd had screamed in thrill and excitement. Now, they screamed for blood.

They stepped through the entrance of the coliseum, and started up the stairs which lead to the long benches for seating. Ben pulled them aside at one point and whispered to them, "Alright, tough decision, front or back?"

"What's the difference, kupo?"

"Back we can't see if it's Max, front we can't see the knife coming for our backs."

"Oh."

"Personally, I don't think anybody here is thinking about anything other than the fight," Eileen commented.

"Okay, front it is."

The three of them took their places as close to the front as they could, squeezed in between the crowds upon crowds of evil figures around them, waiting for a first glimpse at Maxwell.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Max looked up at the guard as he walked into his cell.

"It's time to go," the human said. His voice was strong and even, but there was fear in his eyes.

It was well-placed.

"Tell me, human," the tall, strong bangaa asked, reclining comfortably on the cold, rock floor. "Why should I go with you?"

"I-if you don't, you will be disciplined," he said.

"Oh, disssssssssssssssssssciplined?" Maxwell asked, purposefully drawing out the 's'. He'd long since trained himself to control the natural hissing of the bangaas. "What a sssssssshame…"

"Listen, slave…"

"Sssslave now?" Max demanded. "You ssseem to have losssssst your mannersss."

"Come with me," the soldier ordered, drawing his sword, "or else I will be forced to…"

But Max had stopped listening to his words. His eyes had focused on the sword being brandished by that human. Without warning, he exploded into motion, rocking himself forward onto his feet violently and charging forward. His fist connected with the human's belly as his other hand grabbed the hilt of the sword. The soldier fell to the ground wheezing as Max trampled over him and out of his cell, running past several guards who quickly sounded the guard. He had to get away, as quickly as possible. He could hear the other gladiators cheering him on, screaming for him to escape and to come back for them, to be the first to ever survive the coliseum, but he was too busy thinking of other matters. If he could just get through the doors and out into the public without anybody stopping him, and maybe if he could steal somebody's cloak, he could cover his face so nobody could recognize him, and he could get away and leave this hellhole!

It was as that thought crossed his mind that five guards stepped out in front of him in the first of four doorways leading out of the coliseum's gladiator pens. Or, then again, maybe he would have to take a couple extra seconds to deal with the peons.

He closed with the first guard, and swung his sword, which was intercepted by one guard's shield. The arm holding this shield promptly broke.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Isaac's ears twitched suddenly as they heard something unusual. A look of confusion crossed his face. Was that… steel?

Eileen glanced over at him and noticed his strange expression, and quickly asked, "What is it?"

"Fighting, kupo," he said. "I can hear it…"

"Where?" Ben demanded.

Isaac closed his eyes, and his ears twitched a few more times, before he said, "Follow me."

He jumped up and started heading back towards the exits. Eileen and Ben followed him closely, being sure to act as silently as possible. Once they reached the entrances, the three stopped as Isaac held up a hand.

"Can you still hear it?" Ben asked.

"Barely, kupo," Isaac muttered, "I can only just hear it over this crowd. I just need it a bit louder…"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Max smacked the sword of the last guard, knocking it far out of the way, and brought his other fist forward to punch him in the face, knocking out several teeth as well as his consciousness. He didn't stop to congratulate himself on his victory over the five, however, and instead kept running for the entrance. He made it through the second doorway without incident, but then eight more soldiers showed up before him. He gritted his teeth, and then he hear a voice yelling at him from back in the cells.

"Maxwell! They're sending for the gunners!"

The bangaa cursed, and let out a bellow as he charged the second group. He had to act fast. As soon as the gunners showed up, it would be over.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"There it is!" Isaac cried, drawing his gun and running without waiting for a reply.

The other two were hot on his heels as he reached the corner of the coliseum, and, peeking out from behind the edge, saw it. A side entrance to the coliseum. Isaac didn't know how, but he _knew_ that it was the place. The same way he'd known which way to go to find Eileen. _The Third Eye,_ he thought.

"Through there," Isaac told them. "Let's go."

He twirled the gun around his finger, and stepped forward from around the corner. Now he could see the great battle taking place in the entrance, and he knew it was Maxwell, and that he had to help him.

Isaac levelled his gun, peering down the length of the Longbarrel, preparing to take a confuseshot.

_Ka-Chink!_

Isaac felt a very strong stinging sensation on the back of his paw. Isaac slipped as he pulled the trigger and the bullet smacked against the ground several feet before the combatants in the entryway. A flood of emotions entered Isaac's mind, each one conflicting and opposite, each one having to be true, and each one forcing itself through every ounce of reason he came up with.

A hand was grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and yanking him back behind the corner. A voice was talking to him, some small portion of his mind which still had reason told him it was Ben's. "Isaac! What's going on, man? Snap outta it!"

Isaac looked around, totally uncomprehending of the words. What was he talking about? Who was Ben?

"Isaac," another voice was speaking to him, and a good amount of clarity came to him from the depths of his feelings. A face was suddenly before his vision. Eileen's. "Isaac, come on."

She touched his cheek, and instantly everything made sense again. Isaac sat up.

"What was that?" Ben demanded.

"A confuseshot," Isaac told him, rubbing the welt rising on the back of his paw. "And a very powerful one, kupo. They must have gunners here. _Good _gunners."

"So what do we do?" Eileen asked.

"Well, if we can't stop them, one of them will probably stopshot Max, or one of us, and we'll all be dead, kupo."

"Then how do we stop them?" Ben asked.

"Easy," Isaac said, grinning, "I shoot them first. Be ready to pull me back in." He ducked and rolled out from behind his cover.

As soon as he did, he realised just how screwed they were.

On the walls of the coliseum were at least two dozen gunners, each one wearing the normal attire of a gunner: a cap which covered the ears, and a short scarf tied tightly around the neck. Isaac swore, took his shot, and then jumped back into his cover, with a veritable hail of bullets smashed down into the ground.

Eileen looked at his pale face, evident even beneath his brown fur. "What's wrong?"

"Twenty-five way-too-powerful gunners," Isaac said, gritting his teeth. He pulled out another bullet, and popped it into the ammo cylinder. He cocked it, and crouched again, preparing to jump out again. However, he was stopped by Eileen's hand on his wrist.

"Don't," she ordered.

"What?"

"You can't possible win against them," Ben agreed.

"We can't just leave him!" Isaac protested.

"We may have to," Eileen told him softly.

"I won't! I'll take them!"

"Would you expect _me _to take on twenty-five Diaghilevs?" Eileen demanded angrily. "Would you expect me to die needlessly and without a chance of it causing _anything_?"

"That's totally different, kupo," Isaac protested.

"No it's not. I _won't _let you die for no reason. You mean too much to me for that!"

Silence reigned between the two of them for a moment as Ben looked on. Finally, Isaac said quietly, "Then what do we do for Maxwell?"

"We don't forget him," Eileen said. "The three of us get stronger, and when the time is right, we come here, and we don't leave without him."

Isaac shuddered, and his voice grew even lower, "Swear that to me. Not for his sake; for mine. Please." She started to respond, but he stopped her. "And swear to me that that time, whatever the cost to me or my life, you'll agree to it. Without reservation."

She removed her hand from his wrist and placed it on his shoulder, looking him directly in the eye. "I swear."

They stared at each other for another moment, before Isaac turned away and said, "Let's go. I can hear some of the gunners coming to hunt the three of us down. We need to move."

The three disappeared into the now-deserted streets, and when the gunners showed up, even their trained eyes couldn't see them.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Maxwell slashed left and right, ploughing through the last two guards. He charged out into the open air for the first time in almost a year, and then a stinging feeling hit him in the small of his back. The pain from the bullet was nowhere near as concerning as the paralysing feeling it gave him. It was getting so hard to move suddenly…

He looked up to the walls, and felt another stopshot bounce off his arm, slowing him even more. They couldn't do this to him. Not after how hard he'd worked, how long he'd waited! He turned and began crawling towards the city, but three guards quickly hit him from behind, pinning him to the ground. Max flailed as best he could, before something heavy hit him behind his head, and there was an explosion of light, and he passed out.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Isaac looked behind him at the lawless Jagd Dorsa, in all its evil and chaos. He had volunteered to take the first night watch, and now he sat, simply staring at it. He would be back, he swore to non-present Maxwell. He would be back.

His grip tightened on his gun.

And he would be ready.


	23. Return to Cadoan

To the readers:

Alright, I wanted to get the fight betwixt Ben and Travis in here, but I didn't have time. Now, good and bad news:

Good: next fourchapters are going to be non-stop action.

Bad: you'll have to wait about two weeks for them.

Oh, and ps, to White Iguana, the challenge is issued.

* * *

Ben swept his two sabres out in front of him, knocking his opponent's one sabre out of his hands. He twirled them around and punched the other blue mage in the face with both of the hilts, then brought both sabres down to stab through his chest twice and down into sand underneath, throwing up a cloud of dust. 

There was a moment of silence as he knelt there, panting with exertion. Then, he stood up, pulling the two sabres up and out of the other blue mage with him, and raised them into the air. Just for effect, he forced his blue magic up their lengths to dance in blue flames.

The crowd exploded.

Ben bent his head down as the judges, both the judge for the contest and the official judge from the palace stepped up. They waited as Ben's opponent was healed, and then the contest judge stepped in between them, grabbed Ben's wrist, and lifted it high into the air, showing him to be the victor. Once again, the crowd screamed for him as Ben swept off his blue mage's hat and tossed it into the air, screaming in victory. He caught his hat as it came back down and in one smooth movement shoved it back onto his head, then his eyes roved the crowds, resting upon two people: a young female alchemist and a short gunner, who seemed to be cheering louder than the rest of the crowd.

Ben, Isaac and Eileen were all thinking the exact same thing.

Ben had made it to the quarter-finals.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The three friends were still laughing and cheering as they stood on the roof of the pub in which they were staying, _The Prancing Chocobo_. All of their voices had long since turned hoarse from the screaming, but they didn't care. It had taken so much work to get here, and now, well, they had more or less succeeded!

The three had arrived in Cyril a month ago, feeling depressed and defeated after having had such a horrible defeat in the jagd. It took all they had had to just sign Ben up for the contest before they'd trudged into _The Prancing Chocobo_, slapped their gil down on the counter, and gone to bed.

The battles for Ben had started the next day, and while he lacked behind many of the competitors in his magic, physically he had dominated over the rest. After having a tricky first battle in which he'd tried using his magic and eventually just out-fenced his foe, the three decided to spend his minimal prize money from that battle to purchase a second sabre for him to use.

And man had it worked!

After that, he'd become unstoppable. Ben, who quickly earned the nickname the Blue Ninja, easily cut his way through the competitors with his two sabres and, combining his keen fighting with his combat-based blue magic, he'd destroyed anybody who came against.

The battles had gotten progressively more dangerous and difficult as he continued to win. However, each time he'd triumphed, and now, well, now…

"CADOAN, BABY!" Ben screamed, his voice about three decimals lower than normal and a bit raspy. "Two more fights before I see you again, Jacqueline!"

Eileen and Isaac each threw their fists into the air and cried, "Jacqueline!"

Then, in a manner which Ben purposefully made reminiscent of a certain actor from a trilogy of secret agent movies whose last name was also aword fordriving along in a relaxed mannerhad once done on a popular daytime television show (a/n: whose name Icey the Fox refuses to use, 'cause he's a spaz (sorry, I won't ever do this again)), he jumped up onto the peak of the roof and yelled, "I love Jacqueline. I LOVE Jacqueline!"

He fell laughing hysterically to his back in between Isaac and Eileen, who were busy supporting each other in their heavy laughter.

Once the three of them had managed to get back their breaths and had stopped bursting out into random fits of laughter, Isaac said quietly, "Well, we should probably get to bed."

"Two things Isaac," Eileen said. "First of all: Why? Second: Your voice sounds the way it did back before you were a moogle!"

This set the three into laughter once again, bending down double at the sheer hilarity of the situation. Which, in all truth, wasn't too funny, but such is the way of adolescence. Finally, Ben wiped away a tear and said, "Man, you know, it's a really good thing we haven't drunk anything tonight, because man, everybody must think we're drunk already."

"Are you kidding, we don't need it. We get high on life, kupo!" Isaac said.

"Okay, okay, but seriously," Eileen continued, "why should we get to sleep?"

"Well, I want to be out at the shooting range by eight tomorrow, so…"

He was interrupted by the other two's groans of protest. "Oh, come on," Eileen protested. "You've been out there every day since we got here. You're not going to get any better with that gun of yours!"

"I do more than just train with my gun, kupo!"

"What else do you do, then?" Ben asked.

"Well, there's a fencing field just beside it, so I sometimes go over there and work on my blade…"

Once more, the groans. "Isaac, _I've _been training rigorously," Eileen said. "_Extremely _rigorously, and that's for a mage. But I still only go about four times a week."

"Not enough for me, kupo," Isaac said simply.

"Whatever," Ben said. "Oh right, I have to talk to the two of you about something."

"What?"

"Well, we're going to be heading back to Cadoan right?"

"Yeah, kupo?"

"Just remember, the three of us still aren't safe there."

Eileen groaned again, "We really need to deal with your connections with the underworld."

"Hey, my name isn't the only one's that's mud!" Ben protested. "You still don't have such a hot standing with the Alchemists' Guild."

"Maybe if I had my _map_…"

Isaac rolled his eyes and climbed over to the edge of the roof, swinging over the edge and into the window just beneath before the two could get started again. They had this debate at least once a week, and it always seemed the exact same. They each blamed each other for their position, Eileen brought up the map, Ben brought up the bounty hunters, a short argument ensued, then the two came back to the room the three of them shared and didn't speak to each other until morning, when they seemed to forget that anything had happened. It got on Isaac's nerves.

Personally, he blamed the incident with the jagd on the hightened tensions. None of them had really spoken about it since they'd returned. It had been the first time that all three of them had truly had to conceed defeat against a foe without a struggle while working together. They'd escaped from Cheney's group, they'd pulled off the robbery, they'd fought off Ben's old partners and they'd helped to take down Diaghilev and his group. However, this time the three of them weren't enough. Even with their growth and training over the past month and a half since they'd left the jagd they all realised that it still wasn't enough. Their little quintet of friends had to become more full in order to get Max back.

As he touched the room's floor, Isaac briefly considered closing the window behind him so that the two would have to spend the night on the roof and cool off, but quicky thought the better of it. They were bigger than him, and they could (and probably would) beat him down in the morning.

Isaac walked over to the door and went down into the bar section of the pub, hoping that maybe he could hang out down there until Ben and Eileen could cool down a bit. As he entered, he could hear the sound of bawdy singing and raucous laughter which put he and his friends' attitudes to shame. He smirked as he walked over to the counter. These were the places he knew. This was what he had lived for the first three months he'd spent in Ivalice. He knew that this would be the one thing he missed the most if he were to go back to St Ivalice. In the real world, he was far too young to enter a bar. And on top of that, the atmosphere was totally different. Here there was always singing and telling of tall tales and a general air of friendliness. In the real world… not so much.

He walked over to the barkeep. "Good day."

The barkeep, a portly and extremely talkative man who seemed to have taken a shine to Isaac, said brightly, "Why hello, master Isaac. Shouldn't you normally be in bed by now?"

"Aye, normally," Isaac agreed. "But today, kupo, I've got something to celebrate."

"Ah yes, your friend Ben there's victory today. Very impressive, very impressive! I heard he's makin' quite a name for himself."

"That he is, kupo. The three of us will have to leave in a few days to attend the final battles. Only two more, and then he gets to take on the red mage champion."

"And I'd assume you'd like to know who's in the lead up in Muscadet?" the barman grinned.

"You know me all too well, kupo."

"Well, last I heard, it was down to sixteen. Everybody's gettin' itchy, because now all of the best are gonna be gettin' in at each other. You know there's normally about five or six who are the leaders?"

"Of course, kupo," Isaac responded. "And people normally rate them when it gets closer to the end of the champion."

"That's right. And would you guess who's at the top of the rankings right now?"

"Jacqueline?" Isaac asked hopefully.

"The Scarlet Rapier herself! Apparently she's been just rippin' through the competition. Bloody amazin', from what I heard. And she's so new to the circuit, too! Trust me, your friend Ben'll be havin' some problems if he ends up in the finals against _her_."

"You may be surprised, kupo," Isaac promised. "Either way, have you heard any new rumours from the land of Cadoan?"

"Aye, that I have! You 'eard of that bloke Ezel, right?"

"Of course, kupo, everybody has."

"Well, 'parently he's gotten himself a nice new temporary job that's inside the law!"

Isaac's jaw dropped. He'd only ever heard of jaws dropping in books, bad old slapstick movies, and lame sitcoms, but there it went, dropping. "He what?"

"Yeah, they're usin' 'im and 'is antilaws for the tournaments, to make sure that they can hold the battles without anybody breakin' any laws!"

It took about sixty more seconds for Isaac's jaw to start working and undrop itself. "That's…" Isaac searched for a word. "Unusual."

"No arguments, but it's still great news! A bit of acceptance for th' antilaws an' all."

"Okay, well, I'm splitting for bed, kupo. I've got to be at the shooting range tomorrow."

"G'night!"

Isaac turned around and walked back to the stairs. He managed to keep his incredulity down until about halfway up the stairs, when he felt his mind melt and burst into flames. He turned around to go back and ask the pub master whether he was sure on that information, then stopped, thinking that anything that crazy couldn't be made up, then he started back again, realising just how stupid that idea was, then he found himself considering that perhaps this world had gotten just as screwed up as he'd once assumed, then he decided to just go and double check with the other occupants of the pub so that he wouldn't insult the pub master, then he simply decided that his mind was far too tired from considering all these problems and it needed rest, so he walked up to his room and jumped into his bed, trying not to think at all about anything.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A little more than two weeks of preparation and travel later, and the three of them were back in Cadoan. The journey back to the desert city was admittedly much less enjoyable than the journey to Cyril, as the three had to travel with the caravan of blue mages. It was extremely tense the entire way, with the other three blue mage finalists constantly trying to size Ben up. Ben, for his part, just simply ignored them and pointedly spoke only with Isaac and Eileen. One of the three other blue mages, by the name of Michael Marzollo, actually spoke with Isaac once or twice in the hopes of 'motivating' Isaac into giving up some information about Ben. His form of motivation appeared to involve a rather deep wallet. So Isaac told him that Ben had learned all of his blue magic from the greatest of blue mage teachers money could buy. When Isaac asked Ben about it later at the campfire while polishing several large, shiny gold coins, the human simply shook his head and said, "I'm the new kid on the block. And, in short, I'm kicking a lot of arse. He won last year, and from what I heard he did it through information." This constant tension, plus the fact that they were constantly under guard should somebody attack them, made for a most uncomfortable situation.

Either way, all three were extremely happy when the caravan finally pulled into those high gates of the city. And of course, the first thing they did when they got there was to go see everybody's favourite nu mou…

Okay, scratch _everybody's_. Eileen's at least. After being separated from him for over two months, she begged the other two to let her see Quin before they went to visit Ezel. Isaac decided to accompany their baggage to the their residence instead to save himself the bother of spending the night drinking the thought of the two of them away.

Ben showed up a few hours later, alone.

"Where is she?" Isaac demanded, barely keeping the concern out of his voice.

"They decided to go out for dinner together." He pulled off his sabres and flung them onto his bed in the room the two of them were sharing. "Nice place, don't you think?"

"Sorry?" Isaac asked. He hadn't listened, as he was more preoccupied with going back to the mental list he'd made on the many different ways to kill Quin.

"This house they lent us. It's pretty nice, no?"

"I guess so, kupo," Isaac admitted. It was an average sized estate with two bedrooms (most of the blue mage competitors were alone, so there were no three-roomed residences) and a small stream running through it, sustained by magic to keep the place cool. All the furniture was big and cushy, and even when small and light Isaac sat on it he sank several inches in. "It's a bit _too_ comfortable for me, though."

"I don't know," Ben said, actually jumping onto his bed and sinking in almost a foot. "I kinda like it."

"Whatever, kupo. I'll be sleeping on the floor."

"You _have _changed a lot since the old world," Ben muttered.

"I thought we'd already distinguished this with the fur, the ears and the kupo, kupo."

"Yeah, but I mean, you were into machinery and stuff back home, but nothing like you are now. And back home you didn't seem to crave discomfort."

"To be fair, back home you didn't exactly go off and live with all the pretty little animals in an enchanted forest, kupo."

"Touché."

"So, are we heading over to Ezel's?" Isaac asked.

"Sure, let's roll. Eileen said we shouldn't expect her back before eight."

"Oh Famfrit I hope Ezel's got some strong ale, kupo."

"Why?"

"The trip took a lot out of me, kupo," Isaac lied.

"No arguments there."

"Then let's get going, kupo," Isaac said, putting on his best false smile. Maybe a night with Ezel would put him in better spirits.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Are you sure that you're not tired, kupo?"

"I'm fine."

"Do you need anything? This is an important fight!"

"Do you think you need to remind me of that?"

"Of course not, kupo! But still, if you're not feeling a hundred percent, we could blow everything."

"I know, I know!" Ben snapped. "You're starting to remind me of an over-zealous boxing coach from a bad movie."

"Sorry, kupo," Isaac muttered. "I'm just a bit uptight."

"A bit?"

"Okay, a lot."

"It's alright," Ben shook his head. He reached forward with hand and grabbed the moogle's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'm on edge, too. She can handle herself."

Isaac grabbed Ben's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "I know. Good luck. Not that you need it, of course, kupo."

A smile entered the blue mage's eyes. "You know it."

With that, Isaac passed Ben his hat. Ben put it onto his head, then twirled around so that his long blue coat swung outward a bit, showing the handles of his two sabres protruding above each hip, and walked towards the centre of the arena.

As the crowd exploded into applause and warlike chanting of the name "Blue Ninja, Blue Ninja, Blue Ninja!", Isaac ran to get his seat near the front of the stands.

While he ran, he cast quick looks about him, hoping to see Eileen somewhere. He and Ben had arrived back at their loaned residence the night before at around eleven, each one singing raucously as they staggered along. They'd expected Eileen to be waiting to yell at them for waking her up when they got inside, but she hadn't been there.

Isaac and Ben had gone to bed somewhat uneasily, expecting to find her home the next morning. Much to their shock and fear, they hadn't seen her. Both of them went over to Quin's house to see if she was there (Isaac was so concerned for her that he actually hoped that she might have spent the night with the sage), but neither she nor Quin were at the place. The two of them had reluctantly headed over to the arena, as Ben had to have his first fight soon.

Isaac plopped himself down in his seat, and looked to his right, at the empty seat which was supposed to be Eileen's. He sighed and looked back at the field, as the second competitor came out.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ben watched his opponent approaching him from across the field. He looked like your standard blue mage, the coat, the sabre, the hat, the feather. His first impression wasn't too impressed, but he quickly forced himself to dismiss these thoughts. If he'd made it into the top four, he was good. Better than the others he'd fought.

His opponent walked over to him, and curtly offered him his hand, held palm down as though he were a king allowing a subject to kiss his hand. Ben reached forward and roughly grabbed the hand as it was, crushing the fingers a bit in a hard shake.

"Ben," he said quietly. "It's an honour to do battle with you this day."

"Travis," the other mage said condescendingly. "I can't say that I share the honour."

"I guess I'll have to teach you a lesson in manners," Ben snapped.

"We'll see."

They stepped away from each other and walked to the outside of a white chalk ring in the middle of the field, standing on the edges. A judge with a chocobo whose feathers had a distinct blue colouration to them appeared. He stood at attention as three figures approached from the edge of the field, all of them nu mou. Two were extremely old and bent with age. One had long blue robes and a tall, pointed yellow hat on his head, which covered all the details of his face. However, his eyes glowed yellow with use of black magic. The other old one was the first's complete opposite, in white robes bordered with red. Her face was open and wizened with age.

The last was Ezel, grinning and walking straight although he was probably just as old as the other two. He had two black leather sashes attached to his hips as he approached, crammed with antilaws.

The black mage said, "What are the laws of the day?"

"Laws prohibiting the use of colour magic and sabres."

Ezel grinned wider than the Cheshire cat. "That's two cards. You boys owe me big."

Both mages shot him a glare as he drew the two cards in expertly practised fashion, and tossed them into the air. They gleamed as they went up and disappeared, leaving white spots on Ben's sight.

"Fine then," said the white mage. "On our mark."

Ben nodded and crouched, his hands close to the handles of his sabres. Travis, across from him, simply stood there, not moving.

"Begin."


	24. Quarter Finals

A/N: this is dedicated to both White Iguana and Sage. You guys told me to get it done fast, and I did. Now I'm tired, and I want sleep. Good night.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ben's sabres were in his hands and he rushed forward, his booted feet smacking the ground loudly as the crowd came to life around him, cheering. Travis, standing across from him, didn't appear to have taken notice of him, but Ben saw through this, knowing how stupid it would be to underestimate this foe, especially when he'd come so far.

When he was about five feet away from the blue mage, Ben saw a look of concentration flash across Travis's face, and he noticed the telltale spark of blue magic starting up from Travis's pin. Travis opened his mouth as blue magic flowed to it, twisting the insides and the skin around it until it was mangled and horrible, with rows of sharp teeth and a tentacle or two sticking out. He exhaled sharply, releasing a cloud of greenish gas which reeked from even where Ben was standing.

Ben, knowing that the battle would be more or less over if he were to inhale a dose of malboro's breath, stepped extra strongly on his next stride and went over his side, jumping and spinning violently in an attempt to be above the gas. He didn't manage to get all the way above it, but high enough so that only the slightest of wisps reached his nostrils. Even these, however, were enough to make him dizzy, so dizzy that as his right foot touched the ground he stumbled and fell over, hitting the ground, rolling over several times and dropping both sabres as he did.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Hey, did I miss anything?"

Isaac spun in relief at the sound of Eileen's voice. She sat down heavily next to him, with heavy bags from exhaustion under her eyes.

"Not _too_ much, kupo, Ben's only about to lose the tournament."

"Oh, crap then."

"Uh, I hope you don't mind me asking," Isaac said hesitantly, "but where the bloody kupo _were_ you last night?"

"Ah-hah, yeah, about that," Eileen shook her head.

"What?"

"It's kind of embarrassing. Me and Quin were walking home last night, and then the two of us stopped on a park bench just to watch the stars, and we got to talking, and, well…"

"What?" Isaac prompted, feeling a shudder of fear rush up his veins.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

As Ben came to a stop at his feet, Travis drew his sabre in both hands and raised it above his head, then brought it down in a mighty downward stab at his tripped foe's chest.

Ben, however, had already regained his balance, and rolled over so that the other blue mage drove his sabre deep into the earth. He found himself in perfect position to try out something he'd been wondering about for the past little while. The blue magic from Ben's pin rushed down into his feet, and he felt every muscle in them flex violently once, ripping through the base of his boots and revealing the luscious red fur and sharpened claws. Ben kicked Travis in the shin, driving the new claws through the fabric.

Ben smirked. Apparently yes, his feet could count as paws as well.

Travis fell over to the ground, grabbing his leg for an instant. Ben took advantage to jump away and scoop up one of his sabres in his right hand. With a weapon back in hand, he ran forward at his crouching opponent.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Well, we kind of just fell asleep on the bench there."

"Oh thank Famfrit," Isaac gasped.

"What?" Eileen asked, touched. "Were the two of you worried about me?"

"Uh, _yeah,_ kupo," Isaac said harshly, surprising her."We might have been a _bit _worried about the fact that you didn't come home last night when there are thieves all over the place trying to kill us!"

"Hey, don't yell!" Eileen snapped, starting to look offended. "Besides, I can take care of myself! And what about that time you and Ben came up with that marvellous idea to attack a few dozen guards?"

"There were two of us there, kupo!" Isaac responded, ignoring her order to not yell.

"So what? Quin was with me!"

"Oh, great, _Quin was there_! That makes everything better, doesn't it?"

"Are you saying that you don't trust Quin?"

"I've never shared more than ten words with him! I don't know who he is, kupo!"

"Well I've told you, he's a great guy, and he can handle himself better than you or Ben!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

At the last instant before Ben would've run him through, Travis brought his sabre up, knocking Ben's up high and out of the way. He reached forward with his free hand, and blue light rushed into it. The skin on this hand began drooping and falling off in small pieces and chunks, and bits of bone began showing. The hand grabbed Ben, and his breath flew away. He felt energy beginning to flow away from him towards that hand.

In an attempt to get his foe's grip loosened, Ben brought his sabre out again, but Travis caught it in the curve of his own weapon and held it, completely at a stalemate. Travis's eyes looked at him with even more drive and concentration, and the flow increased.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"So what, kupo, I'm supposed to just take your word for the fact of how good he is?" Isaac demanded.

"It _should _be enough! I've fought beside him and he would die for me! And I trust him a good deal more than I trust Ben sometimes nowadays!"

"Don't talk about him like that, kupo!" Isaac almost growled. "He's our friend and we need to stand by him."

"Yeah, well at least I know what Quin's thinking half the time, which is more than I can say for the two of you! You seem quite intent on getting yourself killed!"

"Well at least I can handle myself! If somebody were to attack me from behind, kupo, I would be able to fight them off from close up! You need some space to cast your magic right!"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot, you can swing your pretty blade around a bit. That doesn't make you mog knight enough to take on a half-decent thief!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

An idea came to Ben, and he shuddered at the thought that he might only use on spell to clear the quarter finals. He let the blue light envelope his free hand, and once again fur and claws grew. He flexed the paw, feeling it just as comfortable as his own hand by now. Then he drove his hand into his opponent's chest, ripping into the skin and holding on. Travis let loose a terrible scream as his skin ripped and poison entered his veins, yet he managed to hold his decayed hand to Ben's chest still, sucking his energy.

The sabres were still locked together, but both were wobbling slightly, and they each suddenly knew that the sabres would be the thing to end this fight, and began putting each of their weight behind their weapons, pushing them against each other in an attempt to gain a few inches on the other.

Around them, the crowd was screaming in excitement, every member cheering on their favourite. The black and white mages slowly circled the field, each ready to jump in and stop any foul play with a quick spell. Ezel stood watching the two sabres closely, constantly hoping that Ben's would be able to get a bit closer to Travis's throat and cut it. It was a close battle, and everybody loved it.

Or almost everybody, at least.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Well at least I can take a hit, kupo! If you were to get a sword in at you—"

"Well that's a bit of discrimination!" Eileen protested. "Oh, Eileen's a poor defenceless little girl who doesn't know how to handle herself! Everyone protect Eileen!"

"You're a _spellcaster_! Let me spell it out for your vastly superior intellect, Mindclear: Spellcasters. Don't. Do. Melee!"

"Doesn't mean that we can't take care of ourselves!"

"You keep changing the subject, kupo!" Isaac accused. "This is about you going off gallivanting without anybody with you!"

"I _told _you, _Quin was with me_!" Eileen yelled at him, not paying attention to the one or two spectators who were staring at them. "That should be enough for you!"

"Yeah, well, it isn't, kupo! We're working so hard to get the five of us back together again, and you just go off and risk that by, by…"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"H-h-hey Ben," Travis stammered in his position, leaning all his weight against Ben.

"What?" Ben asked, grinding his teeth and being careful to not lose focus on his paw or his sabre.

"I just want to say something."

"Go ahead. I'm not going anywhere."

"I think you deserve to go to the semi-finals every bit as much as I do."

"Oh really?" Ben grunted. "Why's that?"

"I'm not actually such a stuck up prick. I do it to intimidate people. But I see that you're worth more than that. Now, like this, it'll take forever for either of us to win, and it'll hurt like hell, so I have a proposition for you."

"What?" Ben asked, getting curious despite himself.

"You stop your spell, I stop mine, we roll away from each other, and then it's one charge with the sabres. No blocking, just one clean thrust, and end it. What do you think?"

"Right," Ben muttered dryly, shuddering with exertion. "So I stop my spell and then you push forward, knock me over and run me through. I'm not stupid."

"I don't think that you are. But please, just trust me."

"Give me a reason."

"Look me in the eye."

Ben did. He glanced up and saw something in Travis's eyes he hadn't noticed before. There was a drive there, for victory and self betterment. But also respect. Respect for himself and for Ben. And more than anything else, honour.

Ben sighed, nodded, killed the feeding of blue light, and threw himself into a backflip.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"By having a good time? By living a bit? Maybe you should try it sometime! Because all that training isn't doing you any good! You're still just as pathetic now as you were in the real world!"

"Take that back, kupo!"

"NO! You've been acting so better-than-thou since we got here, and I'm sick of it. And, for the subject at hand, who are _YOU _to decide what's good for me? It's not like you're my father, or my caretaker, or my boyfriend or anything! Trust me, Quin's got that role filled, so why don't you lay off and screw off?"

There was silence between them for a moment as the crowd roared around them. Both had completely forgotten about the battle.

"Fine, kupo."

Isaac turned around and started heading towards the stairs which lead to the exit.

Eileen grabbed his shoulder. "Wait, I'm sorry, please, I was angry."

Isaac shrugged her hand off and started down the stairs. He felt her grabbing the belt of his gun, but before she could say anything he undid the clasp and jumped over the edge of the stairs, using his wings to soften the impact. With that, he walked out of the entrance of the stadium, just as Ben ran Travis through.

He didn't see the few dark figures who slipped out behind him.


	25. Run For Your Life

The large, heavy doors of the arena slammed behind Isaac as he walked out, fuming. He pushed his way through the large crowds which were in the city for the tournament. Every single word that Eileen had said was circling around his mind slowly, each one taking precedence over the other for an instant. _"Quin was with me… better than you… doesn't make you mog knight enough to take on a half-decent thief… should be enough for you… pathetic… It's not like you're my boyfriend or anything… lay off and screw off!_"

Isaac shook his head violently, trying to clear his mind of the words. Each one stung, even now. She hadn't meant it, he told himself. She had been angry.

But it didn't matter whether she meant it or not. She was right. He was still so weak. He _couldn't_ take on an enemy who got close to him. Sure, he could shoot down almost anything given enough distance from them, at a close distance he may as well have been that same unarmed and untrained fifteen-year old he'd been when he left home those six and a half months ago, sitting on the iced-over sidewalk and staring up at Thom. He couldn't do anything.

He'd survived so far, though, hadn't he? He'd succeeded where his mentor, Clay, had failed on two occasions, hadn't he? And he'd battled his way alongside Eileen and Ben through several dangerous situations, and he'd been training for weeks!

As if, thought a darker side of his mind. He'd only outdone Clay through pure luck and coincidence, and when he'd had to fight Thomas he hadn't won. He'd been about to lose when Eugene saved him. And then, with Eileen and Ben…

He pushed through the edge of the large crowd, getting into the lighter crowds where he could move freely. Had he truly been helping Eileen and Ben? Or had he been the one holding them back? Eileen managed to hold off Diaghilev for almost ten minutes, while Isaac had gone down the moment he'd entered the fight. Against the thieves, Ben took on the only true foe, and Eileen mowed through three of the others, while Isaac only dealt with one.

But then he had managed to deal with one of the chocobo riders during their great escape from Cheney and his group, hadn't he? But then again, that was his only contribution so far…

"…Isaac…"

Isaac's ears instantly perked up at the sound of his name. He stopped for an instant, trying to tell if it would come again, but he couldn't pick it up through the crowds. Quietly, he continued moving, trying to keep his eyes from darting and keeping his ears wide open. He stepped more purposefully, suddenly remembering that he and his companions weren't quite welcome to everyone in this city.

"…the moogle…"

"…brown fur."

Isaac's eyes, through an amazing amount of self control didn't move to where they were. He knew he was in danger. He quickened his pace slightly, and kept his ears locked for any voice that sounded at all like those he'd just heard. He was approaching the market place, where all the artisans and craftsmen would be to attract all the tourists, and a plan was already beginning to form in his mind.

Then, he picked up a few sentences which clarified his course of action for him.

"…don't kill…"

"Capture… bait…"

Isaac reached to his side slowly, quite aware of his absent gun. Instead he reached into his pocket and felt a small piece of parchment which lay there. He knew what he had to do.

As Isaac entered the marketplace, he made a show of looking around and eventually asking a few people as to where he could find Bertram the Smith. Once he was sure of the bangaa's position, he advanced slowly, planning every word.

"Oi, iss that you, massster Issaac?" Bertram asked jovially.

"Yep, of course it is, kupo," Isaac offered, just as casually, hoping nobody noticed the slight weakness in his voice. "You can't keep me away for long."

"It iss true. You'd be ssssurprissed by how hard I try to get ssssome of the more annoying moogle cussstomersss away. Never workssss." He shook his head. "Ssso, how can I help you today?"

"Actually, kupo, I was wondering if you could give me directions as to how to make mithril, kupo. Another one of those custom sashes, kupo, but a bit more complicated this time, kupo." Isaac winced at the sound of his excessive use of nervous 'kupo''s, and decided to try harder to repress that.

"Ahh, mithril, very difficult to handle. Have you got any paper?"

"Right here, kupo," Isaac said, pulling out the parchment. "Have you got any charcoal, kupo?"

"Sure, here you go, alright. Now, you need to ssstart with sssome niccce sssssssteel…"

As Bertram listed off the long, complicated recipe for making mithril, Isaac quickly jotted down on his paper,

_Bertram. Don't react to this. It's for both our goods. Sorry to get you involved in this. No one else to turn to. There are people following me. They want to kidnap me. I need you to go and find Eileen, Ben, or Ezel at the arena and tell them. I think it's the thieves. After two blocks, I'm going to run, and try to cause as much of a commotion as possible. Go please, I need you._

Once Bertram finally finished listing off the many steps involved, he asked Isaac, "Have you got that?"

"Would you check this paper for me, just to check, kupo?"

Bertram nodded, and his eyes fell to the paper. They widened for a moment, then quickly returned to their normal placid appearance. He paused for a moment afterwards, as though to consider.

"Have I got it right?" Isaac prompted.

"Yesss," he said after another moment of silence. "I can order the materialssss you need, if you should desssire."

"Please. And thank you, kupo."

Without looking back, Isaac turned away and folded the paper up, dropping it into his pocket without a second thought. He kept walking, trying to look aimless and interested at all the wares on show. But his ears were pricked, and his eyes were roving. He knew that once he started moving there would be no return. He'd have to just go and stop thinking. React.

He walked on, noting all of the movements about him, all the people displacing in their proper ways. He breathed in and breathed out. Finally, he saw what he was looking for. Several people, all converging around him, moving forward to grasp.

Well. It was time to figure out whether or not he was an actual deadweight or moogle enough to handle himself.

With one last deep breath, Isaac ran.

Once he'd started running, Isaac had been planning to start screaming for the guard, thinking it better to be captured by the palace than to be captured by thieves. However, unfortunately, that plan was ruined within two steps. For, after his first step, a vierra, with her face completely covered, stepped forward from the crowd for an instant, just long enough to throw an urn full of water at him. On the next step, a human, with a veil like Ben wore, stepped forward and threw a handful of blue dust at the water. The water instantly reached forward in one, organized tendril, entering Isaac's throat and weaving its way down slowly through the passage. Isaac choked at the feeling, and he suddenly found that he could not speak. At all. He tried gasping, choking, screaming, but none of it worked. No sound escaped his throat.

_Dammit, _he though, and redoubled his efforts in running. This wasn't going to be as easy as he'd thought.

He weaved through the crowds, pushing in-between people's legs and tripping more than one person. He wished that he could speak to excuse himself, but even if he could he probably wouldn't have had the time. He could already see the feet behind him speeding up, and they had one advantage that he definitely lacked: long legs. One of their strides would probably take them as far as three of his own strides. He didn't like that ratio.

The one thing he had which was on his side was his small size and ability to dodge past people's legs. If he could keep this up for long enough, he might be able to hold them off until Eileen, Ben or Ezel arrived.

Rounding his first corner, Isaac found somebody before him, he couldn't quite identify the race, possibly a vierra, blocking the path for him. She had the typical dress of a thief, and thus Isaac had to assume she was working against him. Without thought, he drew his blade from its sheath and smacked those legs with the flat of his blade as he approached. She fell to the ground, cursing like a sailor, and Isaac rushed past, glad to find himself back in thicker crowds. Here, nobody saw him. Of course, his own vision was somewhat limited in this area, but that was the sacrifice he had to make.

Here he had to run in awkward positions, going sideways as often as straight forward to make his way through. As he went, he thanked Famfrit that it was the darkness and not close spaces that he feared. He ducked, weaved and bobbed, ignoring the many unkind looks he earned. At one point, a hand reached down at him from somewhere above him, so Isaac instinctively jumped upwards and bit the fingers as they approached. The hand was quickly withdrawn with a yelping noise, and Isaac continued on.

He took a left, then a quick right, and another left, all fortunately without any more incidents. He could still hear the quicker and heavier than usual steps behind him, and their loudness showed him just how close they were, even in these close areas, restricted by the bodies surrounding them. Isaac figured he was doing well, until he took another left, and found himself staring at an impassable abyss, or so it may have been. An empty space with no crowds.

Isaac stopped dead at the sight. No doubt they had snipers on him. On the rooftops, somewhere, just waiting for him to emerge from his protection. He heard the footsteps behind him.

Isaac dove into the empty space, throwing himself forward as violently, as quickly, and as far as possible. He heard the whistling of an arrow, and crouched his feet into himself, trying to make a smaller target. The arrow clattered off of the hard earth, just as another let fly. Isaac could actually feel his fur displacing as this arrow just skimmed his head, leaving a long scratch along the back. Then he hit the ground, rolled forward once to his feet, and was off running through the crowds again.

_Don't die, don't die, don't die! _Isaac thought repeatedly to himself. _Better to be kidnapped than to be impaled on an arrow. Why the hell did I have to aggravate them?_

Isaac drove onward once more, leaning forward into his movement to try and get as little resistance as possible. A few people started struggling to get out of his way, some of the few who had seen him dodging the arrows just back there. He couldn't blame them, even though he was annoyed by how they were drawing slightly more attention to him (not that his pursuers needed any extra help). He cut his way through the crowds, trying to think of some way to lose a few of the followers.

Isaac took a moment to look around himself at the feet again, and noticed that one set of feet, these ones belonging to a moogle, were pulling far ahead of him, almost as though…

_He's trying to cut me off, _Isaac realized. _He knows where the next break in the crowds is, and he's going to hold me there._

And then, all of a sudden, the next break in the crowds showed itself before him. It was a curve around a building, where the street took two fast lefts, one right after the other. Now Isaac could see the one thick leather strap around the moogle's forearm with the several twelve-inch blades attached to it. Knuckles. It was a gadgeteer.

Isaac met with him halfway through the turn around the building, his blade out. Their weapons met once, sending a few sparks off of each other. Isaac waited for the next attack, and when the gadgeteer punched at him next, Isaac leaned heavily back so that the knuckle flew right in front of his face. In the other moogle's moment of unbalance, Isaac drove his elbow sideways into his head. The gadgeteer cried out and staggered sideways, just as Isaac finished running around the corner and re-entered the crowd.

He was breathing heavier now. He couldn't keep this up for long. Soon he would have to turn and openly confront the thieves. But before that happened, he would have to find an open area where nobody else could possibly get hurt. It also didn't help that it was so difficult pushing through these crowds. If his voice was still working, it might have been easier. He could've asked people to move. But too bad for that. This was his condition. He had to work with it.

He saw a small space in the crowd up ahead, and took another deep breath. He would have to be careful for any arrows again. The space was being created by a juggler who was in the process of throwing several torches, a dry branch, and a package of gun powder up in the air and catching them again, much to the delight of his spectators. As Isaac entered the open area, the juggler's gaze locked onto him, and something horrible occurred to Isaac. What if that juggler were working for the—

Isaac opened his mouth in a silent scream of agony as a dagger drove into his left arm, slicing neatly through the skin and coming out the other side without damaging the bone. Isaac bent over double as he continued running, pushing into the crowds and favouring his right side so that the left wouldn't bump too much. He had to admit, that juggler was good. Even _he _hadn't noticed him drawing or throwing the dagger.

He chanced a glance down at his hand, and felt he might vomit. There was blood running all over his arm and over the fingers which held the wound. Gritting his teeth, Isaac grabbed the hilt of the dagger and ripped it from his flesh, screaming silently again. A long line of blood was trailing behind him in the dust, staining the earth with his life essence. He looked back down at his arm, and found himself wondering whether it was possible for a wound to bleed this much without him dying?

As if on cue, Isaac's head began spinning. Well, perhaps that answered his question. Realizing that he had to get out of the open and that he had to stop running, Isaac looked about him. There wasn't much. The doorways were too obvious, and he could be cornered easily there. The merchants wouldn't let him hide under the tables which sported their wares. Then his eyes fell upon a back alleyway which was filled with shadow. It would have to do.

Isaac ran into the alleyway as discreetly as he could. Once he was in it, he stopped for a moment to breathe deeply, holding tightly to his arm which was still pumping with pain and blood. He slumped his back against the wall and let himself slide into a sitting position.

"Sorry about all this, mate."

Isaac turned at the sound of the voice, and found, to his horror, Ridley, the Prince of Cadoan's thieves sitting next to him. He was dressed as a common street rat, but Isaac could see the bulge of a katana at his side underneath the rags. He was sipping at a flask.

"We wouldn't have had to have gone to all this trouble, you know," Ridley informed him, offering the flask. "But then you had to hear us and run."

Isaac, figuring he had nothing else to lose, took a sip at the flask. Instantly, his throat loosened, and he felt he could speak again. "Sorry, kupo. It's in my nature."

"Ah well. Are you going to go quietly now?"

"I don't think I've got much of an option, kupo," Isaac muttered, nodding his head at his pierced arm. "But it doesn't matter. I've just got to chill with you until one of my friends shows up." It hurt him to say those words, but he said them anyways.

"Oh, I'm counting on that," Ridley told him, winking.

"Showswhat afriggin' stupid wankeryou are, ku—"

Ridley's clenched fist smashed into his jaw, and Isaac fell into darkness.


	26. Semi Finals

"Where the hell is he?" Ben demanded as he paced back and forth. "I mean, can't the two of you, like, _not _go missing before the most important times in our lives?"

"Oh please," Eileen muttered. "This is only the first time that the two of us have been late!"

"What about that time that the five of us were for that inter-school competition? The one that required _five _competitors per team? _Not _three?"

"We got there on time!"

"Yes, as they announced the start of the academic portion. Or, in other words, the part we needed the two of you for."

"Well that wasn't _too _important."

"Prize money was five hundred dollars."

"Just shut up!" Eileen snapped, and turned away from him.

Ben sighed, and drew his left sabre, beginning to sharpening it for the umpteenth time since he'd defeated Travis. His nerves were on edge enough as it was, and then Isaac had to go missing and Eileen had to be in such a foul mood. He groaned. Why was it that whenever something went wrong with one, something went wrong with the other? The two were a package deal, even in this world. What had it been, two days after finding Isaac thatthey'd managed to find Eileen?

At that moment, Ezel walked into the separate room in the arena which was being afforded Ben between the matches. Ben looked up at him as he entered.

"Have you heard anything?" the blue mage asked.

"Yes, unfortunately." Ezel's normally bright and happy features were shadowed over with worry. That alone was enough to make Ben assume the worst.

"What's going on?" Eileen asked, turning to face him.

Ezel looked uncomfortable for a moment, then said in an extremely rapid manner (all in one breath, to all three's amazement), "My friend Bertram, a smith, spoke with Isaac. He gave Bertram a note begging for help. Apparently the thieves' guild was following him. He said he would break cover and run in a couple minutes. That was two hours ago."

Ben spun around and threw his sabre, sending it point first into a nearby table. He ducked his head down and held it in his arms, wanting to scream in rage and mental agony. Eileen was grasping tightly to her mace, her grip white-knuckled.

"Did he have his gun with him?"

"No," Eileen answered for Ezel. "I've got it."

"In that case they probably got him within a couple minutes," the blue mage muttered. "Why do _you _have his gun anyway?"

"We had a bit of an argument."

"Fine, whatever, you guys can have your little relationship issues, I'm going," Ben said, grabbing the sabre and wrenching it from the table.

"Oh, no you're not!" Eileen told him, pointedly ignoring the 'relationship issues' remark. "We've worked too hard getting here! Where's the thieves' hideout?"

"You'll never find it without me to help you!"

"Oh, I think I'll manage. Just tell me where it is, I'll get Quin, and we'll take it down. You're going to stay here and win this fight."

"This problem is completely _my _doing!" Ben growled.

"Trust me when I say that you're not the only person responsible for this mess," Eileen told him, their eyes meeting. His held all the strength and possible fury of a clear summer sky, waiting to burst into storm. Hers were both the colour and hardness of emeralds.

"Ben," Ezel said softly, touching his shoulder. "This battle is too important. I don't have enough sway to hold it off. If you win this one, there'll be a few hourse before you have to go up against whoever's left in the red mages' tournament. And though I'm not allowed to say this," his voice dipped to a whisper, "The Scarlet Rapier is heavily favoured to win."

Ben looked from one to the other of his close nu mou friends, and sighed.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Announcing the semi-finalists of Cadoan's annual colour mage's tournament, and final two blue mage combatants: This year's brutal melee dark horse, Ben, the Blue Ninja, versus last year's champion, the master of style and technique, Michael Marzollo!"

The crowd screamed with excitement as the two figures each stepped onto the field, walking slowly towards each other. Ben's head was bowed, his hat pulled low so that his eyes were not visible. He had taken off his long, blue coat, and now wore a simple white muscle shirt and a pair of blue pants. His hat was removed, his hair pulled into a ponytail. Both sabres were strapped tightly to his hips.

Michael had on the full, official garb of a blue mage, however, his coat was laced with gold threads, giving it more of a piratey look. He had also removed his hat, revealing a shaved head and light brown skin. One, single, reddish-gold sabre hung at his back, loose and easy to draw.

Neither competitor could hear the announcer's magically amplified voice as he went on his preamble. They were both staring intently at each other, neither blinking as they came closer to destiny.

"Would the contestants please shake hands?"

Ben reached forward and grabbed his opponents offered hand, finding it difficult to shake it. Not out of disrespect. There was simply something physically difficult about shaking the other's hand. For some reason, it felt as though the skins of the two hands weren't touching. Ben shrugged it off as pre-battle nervousness.

"And on my mark: Three!"

Ben's hands touched his hilts.

"Two!"

He crouched, ready to spring forward.

"One!"

He conjured two images in his head as clearly as possible: one of Isaac, beaten and broken somewhere in the thieves' hideout; one of Jacqueline, perfect and beautiful as she always was.

"Begin!"

It seemed that at the exact same time as the announcer yelled begin, the first ring of steel on steel was heard, and the spectators suddenly saw that both blue mages were in the center of the field, Michael blocking Ben's two sabres with the blade of his one sabre. There was a split second of motionless, and then the next twenty or so seconds were filled with nothing but the constant screeching of metal scraping across metal as all the spectators watched and tried to keep up.

They couldn't possibly.

Ben's sabres each had their edges blocked on the same side of Michael's sabre, so Ben released them for an instant and grabbed them again in a stabbing position and tried to slip them through Michael's defences. Michael simply twirled his sabre rapidly, knocking one out far to the side, and then brought his empty hand, which grew long claws and red fur, down to punch the other sabre out of the way. Michael then brought his forehead forward violently to slam into Ben's face.

Ben fell backwards onto his back, landing hard. The other blue mage advanced on him, but Ben kicked his feet out before him, tripping him. Ben jumped up and twirled his sabres in his hands once, raised them up, and brought them crashing down to crush Michael's skull with their blades.

As they touched his skin, there was a flicker of blue light across it, and the sabres slipped away from Michael's form without leaving a scratch.

"What?" Ben actually asked, taken aback by the definite lack of bodily fluids oozing from the definite lack of pulpy remains of Michael.

"Strategy, my friend," Michael told him, a broad smile on his face. He leapt to his feet and slashed at Ben.

Ben started backing up from Michael's attacks, going all-out on the defensive. There wasn't any point risking his own protection on a chance to hit Michael if it wouldn't do anything. He'd heard of these sorts of abilities before: casting a field of energy around oneself that would divert any physical damage to the magical potential of the individual attacked. Many blue mages learned it, but it took a good amount of concentration to pull off, and Ben was usually too busy concentrating on his two weapons to focus on erecting a shield.

Apparently, this hadn't been the best idea.

Ben delivered block after block to Michael's strikes. Michael stabbed low, and Ben double-blocked it and threw it out to the side. Michael brought his sabre back around in a wide arc which Ben slapped away. However, as he did this, Michael brought his other hand forward in a fist, punching him in the face. Ben, feeling himself beginning to fall back, knew he had three options. One: Fall back on his arse, and let Michael impale him. Two: Flail for his balance, and let Michael impale him.

He went for option three, throwing his full weight behind his fall, turning it into a spinning dive backwards for himself. He looked back, and, knowing that Michael would be following, sent blue light from the pin into the tips of his fingers and the air about them. He whipped one hand around violently in a circle as he went, and then finished his dive, not paying attention to the large twister he'd thrown as he rolled back to his feet.

Michael ran straight through the blue-tinted twister, ducking his head as he went. When he came out the other side, he swiped his sabre across. Ben blocked it, with one sabre and swept the other out far in front of him. The blade caught across his face, leaving a light blue line for a moment. Then Michael kicked him in the shin, and Ben fell to one knee. Michael slashed at him, and through sheer instinct and reflex Ben leaned his head back and didn't get it removed. Instead, he got a large, painful cut across his face, which quickly began bleeding. Ben retaliated by punching him twice in the chin, but both glanced off with flashes of blue light.

Michael then let the light encompass his hands, and they turned into red paws again. He droved the long claws down into Ben's skin and ripped at it brutally. Ben let a growl build in his throat, and it ripped from his mouth with fury he hadn't known he'd possessed. His own set of red fur and long claws ripped from the skin of his hands, without him consciously activating them, and he dove at the other blue mage.

The next thirty seconds or so nobody could make out. It was simply Ben and Michael tearing at each other with their claws, scratching and slashing, each hissing and growling with the fury of a panther. There was nothing but occasional flashes of blue light and occasional cries of pain.

As suddenly as the two had engaged in their furious mortal combat, they got away from each other as they both stood up straight and Ben, looking far more haggard now that he was out of the claw-off, ran up Michael's standing form and back-flipped away from him. He landed it in a staggering fashion, a far-cry from his normal grace and control.

Ben was by far the worse off from the confrontation. He had several deep long gashes across his form, the worst one being that across his face. His clothes were in tatters, and he was slaying slightly on his feet.

Michael didn't have a single scratch or scar on his form, but he appeared exhausted somehow. No doubt, he was running low on magical energies. He was bent slightly in his posture, and was breathing deep.

Both had dropped their sabres before the fight, and they'd travelled very far from them in their scuffle. Thus, Ben advanced forward again, figuring that it would come down to a fist fight in good old clichéd style.

Michael, anticipating this, let blue light gather around his face, and red scales covered his mouth. As Ben closed with him, he spat a small gout of weak flames.

As they hit Ben, the flames didn't exactly burn, per say. They didn't exactly _do _anything visible. Ben, however, felt it. A certain loss of self regard and protection. He suddenly realised if he were to take another hit, he would die.

_Always complicated, _he lamented, but he ran in anyways.

Michael punched at his face, but Ben caught the wrist and pulled it out to the side. Ben then attempted to punch Michael, but _Michael _caught the wrist and pulled it out to the side.

The two of them stood there, panting for a moment. Neither had much left in them. For a moment, their eyes met, and Ben identified the slight lack of extra lustre in Michael's eyes which meant he was carrying magical energies.

And that's when he realised what he had to do.

He began letting light flow out of his pin, forcing it as it came. He was pulling energy from the very depths of his ability, draining himself dry to do this. The light began centering around his head, and rocky protrusions began sticking out from every angle, as his eyes turned from sky blue to amber yellow. The light started forming a horn shaped very much like the hilt of a sword in Ben's head…

…and then he started running out of steam. He simply couldn't push anymore into it. He sagged in his grip with Michael, dipping down so that the other blue mage was almost holding him up. He was used up. There was nothing more he could do…

Ezel, standing from the sidelines, saw his friend losing hope, and knew that if he didn't step in soon, all would be lost. But he couldn't directly affect the battle by stepping in and adding his aid. The crowd around behind him was screaming with excitement and tension, each screaming for their favourite.

Realising it was the only (and probably also the _best_) thing he could do, Ezel cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed as loudly as he could, "Winner of this fight goes up against the champion of the red mages! Come on, you two, give it all you've got! You might just find yourself in the final ring with the beautiful _Jacqueline_!"

At the sound of Jacqueline's name, Ben's head came up, and suddenly he realised why he was even in this godforsakenly difficult and painful battle. To get to Jacqueline. To get to Jacqueline. To get to Jacqueline.

"Jacqueline," he whispered, a simple low breath expelled from his rocky lips. He began repeating her name over and over in his head, and the blue light's flow strengthened. Lots.

Blue fire poured out of Ben, covering his entire form in it and bathing him in the flames. It was so brilliant that it actually cast shadows across the field, making the sun momentarily unnecessary with its light. He forced the rest of it into his head, and suddenly there was the head of a bladebiter where his own should have been. With a resonating bellow, all of the blue light centered on his 'horn', and then flew out in a concentrated blast right into Michael's face.

Michael, for his part, simply opened his mouth in surprise, and then slumped downward, dead.

Ben's chest heaved with exertion as he released the dead body and let it fall to the ground. There was a moment of silence throughout the entire arena.

Then the entire crowd exploded with applause, screaming their approval.

The judge healed Ben, just as he fell to his knees from exhaustion. The moment all of his energy had returned from the healing spell, he was back on his feet. Michael got up at just the same time as Ben, shaking his head.

"Well done," he said, trying to act gracious. "It makes me proud to see a new champi—"

"Sorry, no time for that," Ben said, and ran for the door.

Ezel caught up with him as he passed. "Amazing fight, Ben!"

"How long do you think you can delay the next fight?" he asked, all business.

"At most five hours."

"Good, I'll be back by then."

"And I assume that Isaac will be with you?"

In response, Ben pushed through the doors of the tournament hall, and broke into a run. He stopped only once, to toss a couple gil onto the table of a street merchant and grab a dark blue handkerchief from him, then tie it around his face as a veil. He swore to himself that it would be the last time he would ever wear such a veil. By the time he left the Thieves' Guild, he decided that anybody who knew who he'd been and how he actually looked would never speak to _anybody _again.

He tightened the belt which attached his sabres to him, and ran on.


	27. Order of Backstory, Table 27

"This is the place," Eileen whispered to Quin. "It's the right address and the right description."

"Alright," the sage murmured. "Are you ready, then?"

"Yeah, did you bring the ethers?"

"Yes, and I've got an elixir just in case. Do you have any idea where your friend is?"

"None."

"Fun," Quin said, cracking his fingers. "Alright then, let's go."

With that, he pulled out his mace from its harness at his hip, and shouldered his shield from his back into his hand. He gave the heavy weapon an experimental twirl with his fingers, and smacked it once against the shield.

"Okay, it's time for some fighting. You remember how things work, right?"

"Of course I do," Eileen told him, "I keep behind you and cover you as best I can. How could I forget?"

"Well, it has been a few months since we last worked together. I can't wait to see how much better you've gotten."

Eileen grimaced. "Can't say that I've improved too much."

"Hey, you took on a Third Eye, which is a lot more than most could say. You're good enough to handle this on your own, probably. Now let's do it."

With that, the two crossed the street to the front door of the large palatial estate which was actually the hideout of Cadoan's thieves. It was in the center of the nicest district of town, and even there, it stood out for how elegant and excessively-well decorated it was. The front doors, if Ben was telling the truth, led into a small courtyard, which led to the rather sizeable house inside, which led to a much more sizable series of tunnels and paths underneath it. It was their job to find Isaac somewhere in this building.

Taking a deep breath and making sure that Eileen had a judgepoint out and ready, Quin knocked on the elaborately carved oak double-doors.

"Who is it, kupo?"

"A friend of a friend," Eileen answered for him, as Ben had instructed her to.

"And what do you want?"

"We're just taking a turn about the neighbourhood."

There was a moment of silence, then they could hear the sound of several locks being clicked open. Then the door was opened wide for them to see inside. There was a moogle standing there with a confused expression on his face.

"I don't recognize you two, kupo."

"Probably not," Quin shrugged as Eileen threw her judgepoint into the air, summoning a judge. Then he smashed the moogle in the face with his mace, and Eileen and Quin charged into the courtyard with the judge in their wake. Because the guards weren't ready, they managed to make it all the way to the locked front doors of the house before they were stopped.

As soon as they reached the door, several thieves reached them and drew their knives and katanas. Quin quickly took up a protective position in front of Eileen and blocked the first katana-swipe with his shield. He stuck his fingers out from behind the protection of the shield, and without even saying anything, threw a ball of water into the face of the ninja attacking him. The ninja fell back, knocked out-cold by the pressurized liquid.

"Eileen!" Quin called as he blocked another attack.

"What's up?" she asked, raising a poisonous gas cloud in center of the press of theves coming at them.

"Could you get me a headcount of how many there are?"

"Sure thing." Eileen's eyes scanned the courtyard, darting from face to face and adding the numbers up. Her gaze drifted up to the walls, and they widened. "Duck!"

Quin bobbed his head downward and an arrow flew by, just missing him. Eileen whipped a hand out and cried, "_Wasser_!", aiming for the archer on the wall. The ball flew forward, but fell short, dousing the wall instead of its target.

"Out of range!" Quin told her. "I'll hold the rest of them off, you blow that door open!"

Eileen spun and looked at the door. It was stone, and looked _very _formidable. She wouldn't be able to break it with water or wind. Wondering whether minor flaming eruptions would work, Eileen pointed both hands and said, "_Aufflackern_!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Isaac woke up and was distressed to note that his streak of waking up without agony in his head had been broken. This time, the pain centered mainly around his jaw, and, just for a change of pace, his arm. Also differently, though the moogle didn't consider this such a good thing, his arm actually hurt more than his head. A _lot _more.

Isaac cracked his eyes opened, and found that he was in a plain, dimly lit room. He was sitting in a chair (a quite uncomfortable chair, at that), tied up and facing the door. This door was wide open.

Oh. Well that was just plain mean.

The moogle found that he had quite good head movement, so he cast a quick look down at himself. His shirt was off, giving a clear view of his left arm, which a blood-soaked rag bound tightly around it. He could see a bit of blood dripping down through the brown fur, but it looked as though his wound had stopped bleeding. His blade and his sash were gone, but what more could he expect from thieves?

Just then Ridley swept into the room through the open door, with a pair of wineskins at his belt, followed by a vierra wearing tight white robes.

"Good morning, my young friend!" the ninja laughed, walking over and clapping Isaac on his wounded arm. He continued, ignoring Isaac's limited writhing in his bonds as he squeezed the arm amicably "I had so hoped you would be awake when we arrived! Have you been waiting long?"

"Not too long, kupo," Isaac croaked, only just noticing how thirsty he was.

"Excellent! I do hate leaving guests unattended to. I can only stay for a limited time, you understand. My minions are holding two of your nu mou friends at the doors, and _I _must go meet with my old friend Ben. However, I brought my best healer for you, and, if you'd like some, a bit of water. Or perhaps some wine?"

"No thanks, kupo," Isaac told him coolly. "I think I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You know that an injury like that might make the arm's fingers permanently useless? That would be an awful end to your career as a gunner."

Isaac, very slowly and deliberately, flexed each digit on each finger individually, although each movement brought on a new wave of agony which almost knocked him out. He drew a shaky breath. "All g-good, kupo."

Ridley laughed again, shaking his head. "You're a tough little moogle, I'll give you that. For curiosity's sake, why do you refuse my help? Pure defiance?"

"Never trust a thief."

"You trust Ben."

"Oh, for several reasons, kupo."

"Pray tell."

"First of all because he's given me plenty of reasons to trust him in the past. Second because he's my friend, kupo. Third because I know whatever trouble he _does _get us into, he'll be able to get us out of it."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah. He's not so pathetic that he needs to scrape a living from taking things from other people like a worthless little maggo—"

Ridley gave him one hard punch in the nose, then spun around and kicked Isaac in the gut, knocking the chair over backwards. Isaac, the breath knocked out of him, gasped at the air to try and fill his empty lungs, pain now pounding from two fresh areas.

Then, very casually, Ridley walked over, picked up the chair and planted it back down on its legs. He brushed Isaac off, saying curtly, "It's not good manners to insult your host, you know."

"I'll remember that for next time, kupo," he wheezed.

"You'd better," was all Ridley said as he spun around, walking away with his mage in tow.

Isaac remained sitting there, gasping for a while, and then stopped moving in an attempt to numb the pain. After a time, he ever so slowly pulled his hand away from behind him, looking at the piece of wood, broken off from the chair when Ridley had kicked him. Smirking, he quickly set about untying himself with his free hand.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ben, knowing that Eileen and Quin would no doubt attack directly from the front of the hideout, decided to instead take a more subtle approach. Standing directly on top of the large building, he was slowly pacing its length, trying to find the old secret entrance he'd always used back when he'd been working for the thieves. He would use it whenever he had had to lose somebody while on the run, normally with Ridley beside him, and it had always served him well.

Ben came across a small bit of thatching on the top of the house which sunk down a bit more than the others. He bent down and pulled away the straw which made the roof, then dropped down through the hole left there.

"Well, it seems we meet again."

Ben wasn't in the least bit surprised to hear Ridley's voice behind him. He turned slowly, keeping an eye in the direction he was facing as long as possible, just in case some assassins should appear at the other end of corridor while his back was turned. As he finally looked upon Ridley, dressed all in tight black clothing and a loose cloak, he said quietly, "Why is it that you seem to keep wanting to fight me? What is this, the third time you've come after me since I left?"

"Well, I come after you for probably the same reason you've come after me this time," Ridley said, shrugging off the cloak and letting it fall to the ground. "Vengeance."

"Me?" Ben asked, widening his eyes in mock surprise as he undid his veil. "Why should I crave vengeance on you?"

"Well, there _is_ the scratch on this katana from when that white monk you were hanging with tried to deflect that blow at her heart. Nice try. Though she wasn't too much of a challenge."

"You don't deserve to utter her name."

"Yes, well, I did manage to kill her, and quite easily too—"

_Clang!_

Ridley and Ben's weapons sang as they met, scratched katana blocking and sabre slashing. Ridley continued nonchalantly, "And then you had to go and overreact so much, and come back here to kill Carl. He was a most excellent leader, too."

"He deserved to die a thousand times over for only the things I saw him do with my own eyes," Ben said, sweeping his first sabre away and bringing the second one in to slip around the katana.

"Well, in that case, you can't blame me for ordering that friend of yours' mercenaries to attack her," the thief prince muttered casually as he sidestepped the blow.

"What do you mean?" Ben demanded, throwing a high kick in the empty space left by the first sabre.

"Surely you couldn't have expected a respected professional mercenary group like Cheney and his crew to betray their client for no reason?" He paused to block the kick with his forearm and throw it out far, forcing Ben into an uncomfortable spin. "It would ruin their credibility."

"So you personally outbid Eileen in secret to get them to try and kill her, and possibly me in the process?"

"Yep."

"How did you even know that she had _any _relation to me?" Ben demanded as he bent his head back to avoid a double-katana slash at his neck.

"Well, we used to sleep in rooms right next to each other. I always heard you waking up in the middle of the night, yelling about your friends. Eileen, Maxwell, Isaac, and especially Jacqueline."

A cord of fear was struck in Ben at the sound of those four names. He put extra force into his next thrust. "What kind of a crooked monster are you?"

"Well," Ridley laughed, "you've only heard what I've done to your friend Eileen. Wouldn't you like to hear the rest?"

Ben growled as his thrust came up short, and spun, chopping with fury at the ninja's head.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Isaac crept slowly along through the corridors of the thieves' hideout, keeping to the shadows and feeling thankful for his small size and dark fur. He'd only passed one other person on his journey, and fortunately they hadn't seen him. Most of them must have been dealing with the two nu mou at the entrance. Eileen, without a doubt, and hopefully Ezel. Hopefully _not _Quin. He stopped for a moment to beg Famfrit that it wasn't Quin, and then kept moving.

He came upon a doorway halfway down a hall, and paused. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his ears back with his good arm and leaned out to glance around the corner.

"It took you long enough, kupo," said the moogle sitting there.

Isaac's jaw dropped. "What the bloo'y 'ell are you doing here?"

"I'm working, kupo," Thomas said, as he shelled an apple with one of his throwing knives. He was wearing his normal juggler's cloak, however his hat and his make-up appeared to be absent.

"I thought you were working for the bloody palace, kupo!"

"I was. Then Ridley offered me more cash, and I came. Didn't really like the palace too much, either. They were always trying to do good and all that, kupo." Thomas sliced the apple into eighths, and began unconsciously juggling them. "Sorry 'bout your arm, by the way."

"Wanker," Isaac muttered. "That hurt."

"It was a dagger in your arm. That's what it's supposed to do. Hungry?" Thomas, without breaking the pattern of his juggling, tossed two of the apple slices at Isaac. The brown furred moogle caught them, and, seeing as he was ravenous, he wolfed them down.

"Thanks. Though you do realise, I am going to have to beat you senseless now, kupo."

_Thunk!_

A dagger landed right in between Isaac's ears, stuck into the wall right to the hilt. "Why's that, kupo?" Thomas asked, still juggling the six remaining apple slices as though he hadn't just drawn and thrown a dagger.

"Well, you did stab my captain in the back in a rather literal manner."

"Uh-huh. And you do realise that Ridley personally paid me several thousand gil for that?"

"Irrelevant."

"And you do realise you don't have a single weapon, kupo?"

"_Slightly_ more relevant, kupo."

"Are you still hungry? There's another apple in the bowl," Thomas told him, gesturing with his head towards a bowl on the table. He then leaned forward suddenly and bit one of the apple slices out of the air, maintaining as always the steady pulse of his juggling.

"Thanks," Isaac muttered, grabbing an apple. "So, uh, what happens now?"

"Well, kupo," Thomas said, catching another apple slice in his mouth, "you and your friends are going to do enough irreparable damage to this thieves' guild that I can leave. For good, preferably."

"So you can leave?"

"Yeah, apparently these thieves don't like it when people try to leave their 'family'."

"Why us, kupo?"

"You're the only ones I know in this world. And the three of you seem pretty good at handling yourselves, so I figured I'd commission your services, kupo."

"By kidnapping me?"

"Pretty much."

"I really hate you, kupo."

"Good. Then you'll probably survive longer. Now here, take these."

Thomas grabbed a package and tossed it to Isaac, once again without breaking the flow of his juggling. Isaac attempted to catch it, missed horribly, and got hit in the face. Isaac grabbed it from the floor and opened it, pulling out his blade, his fedora, his shirt, and a healing potion.

"How'd you get these, kupokupo?"

"I _did _capture you, but what can I say? Even thieves don't know how to protect themselves from thieves."

"Apparently, kupo," Isaac said, rolling his eyes. "Hey, uh, do you think we could find a gun anywhere?"

"Nope. I checked the armoury."

"Bullocks. Ah well, now what?"

"Now we go and raise a little hell, kupo," Thomas said, standing up and swallowing the last of the apple slices. He drew two daggers, one of his fighting daggers and one throwing dagger. "Let's go."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"You did _what _to Isaac?" Ben demanded, stabbing forward with both sabres.

"I hired a hitman for him." Ridley went sideways, slipping in between the two swords. He brought his elbow down to hit Ben in the face. "Well, technically a hitmoogle."

"You realise that he almost died as a result of that?" Ben bent himself backwards with the momentum of the elbow, running partially up Ridley's form and throwing himself into a backflip.

"That _was _the point. It didn't quite work."

A roar ripped from Ben's lips, and he dove forward, sabres slashing wickedly fast. Ridley backed up and parried as he went, blocking each attack. Ben hit the ground and rolled forward, and as he went forward onto his back, Ben pushed off with his hands, throwing himself forward again into a series of kicks. Ridley was totally caught off-guard by the second wave of attacks, and took three kicks in the face and chest. He fell heavily back onto his rear. Ben, remarkably, fell to his feet, standing over Ridley's fallen form.

"Anything else sick and stupid you've done to my friends that you'd like to tell me?" Ben asked, his voice a literal growl.

"Are you kidding?" Ridley asked. "That's just two out of four." With that, he kicked Ben in the stomach, throwing him over backwards. He jumped to his feet, grinning. "Weren't you wondering how your bangaa friend got sold as a gladiator slave?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Back! Back!" Quin roared, pushing Eileen through another door. As soon as she was through, he spun around and yelled, "_Mehr Aufflackern!_". He leapt in behind Eileen and slammed the door shut. An earth shaking explosion sounded from behind the door, and smoke began leaking in from the crack.

Eileen ran back over to Quin's side, who was bent over double from exertion, as the judge warped through the door. She reached into one of her deep pockets, and pulled out a jar filled with a liquid of some sort. She popped the glass stopper off, and poured it down Quin's throat. He gasped at the cool liquid. They'd been backing up since they'd entered the building, going through door after door with more and more thieves joining their pack of pursuers as they went. At current, there were about thirty thieves outside that door, trying to get at them. Eileen checked the nasty gash she'd received on her right leg through the robes as he drank. It was still bleeding quite profusely.

"Thanks," he said, licking the remains of the ether from his lips. "How many of those have you got left?"

"Only two. You?"

"I'm fresh out. You ought to save those for yourself."

"You're the better spellcaster; you can hold them off longer."

"I also use up my energy faster with bigger spells."

"Either way, it doesn't matter, we can't hold out too much longer."

At that moment, the door was thrown open by a thief hitting it with his shoulder. Eileen spun around and threw a whirlwind at the entrance. Quin rushed over to fill the space left by him, and smacked his mace out to catch a thief in the face.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"So where exactly are we going, kupo?"

"Right through here. I want to break into the thieves' vault while they're distracted and take all their gil."

"And why do you need _me _for this, kupo?" Isaac demanded as they rounded yet another empty corner.

"Because I need to crack the code on the vault, and my hearing isn't terribly good."

"How do you know I have good hearing, kupo?"

"Are you kidding? I've been following you for three months. You learn these things doing that."

"Bloody stalker," Isaac muttered.

They rounded one more corner before coming to the treasure room. It was, much to Isaac's disappointment, very normal. A simple room, unnecessarily large, with a small safe in the wall opposite the door.

"Okay, just one more question, kupo."

"Shoot."

"Why am I doing this?"

"Well, I could kill you in an instant with one of my knives, kupo, but I've lost my taste for intimidation, so we'll say I'll give you a fair share of the treasure."

"Let's hop to it, then, kupo," Isaac said, walking over to the safe and putting his left ear to it.

"Just tell me when you hear the click," Thomas muttered, and began turning the lock.

"For curiosity, what happens if we don't get this right, kupo?"

"There are a few rumours. Personally, I hope the one about the yellow dragons and the poison darts is true."

"You _hope_, kupo?"

"It seems the least painful way to go out of all the other rumours. Heard that click yet, kupo?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"I'll kill you, you bas—"

Ben was interrupted by the knee being driven into his gut. He bent over double, which saved his life as a katana flew over his head. Ben brought his head up violently, smashing against Ridley's nose. Spittle flew from his mouth and unrestrained blue light shone all about him.

"This is what I want," Ridley taunted, grinning despite the blood flowing from his nose. "To take you down at your best."

"Don't wake a beast that you have no chance of defeating," Ben growled, baring his teeth in a catlike manner. Several of them looked longer than usual, and blue sparks danced across them like a wildfire.

"Well, even if you do defeat me, it won't matter. I think I've already ruined your life enough. You're a convicted criminal, one of your friends is now also a convicted criminal and has lost his airship, one of your other friends has fallen from grace in her precious Alchemists' guild, your final friend is a slave, and your girlfriend, I'm quite sure, will never speak to you again."

"Why not?"

"Because I've had men following her, dressed like you and wearing your veil. They made sure she could see them. She's probably sure you're stalking her."

"Do you really think you can defeat me? I was stronger than you before and I've only gotten better!"

"I've gotten stronger since we last met. I've been training since you left the guild for this moment!"

"Why?"

"Because I have to prove that I'm better. That's the pure and simple of it. I want the world to know that I removed your head from your neck. Me. Then there's the whole revenge portion to it, but that's more of just a front for my guild, so that they'll support me through this."

"You're pathetic!" Ben snapped, slashing forward again recklessly.

"Some might say that," Ridley conceded, blocking the two sabres with one katana, pinning them in their places. "But they'll change opinions after I walk into the Council Room with your head in my hands."

Ben roared, and twirled the sabres to free them. Ridley spun his katana with them, keeping the weapon in hand as he stabbed with the other. The blue mage moved his head out of the way, and, much to Ridley's shock, spun around to bite the metal, blue light flashing as his face grew fur and great fangs. The katana was ripped from Ridley's grasp as Ben bit it in half with his powerful jaws. He spat the weapon's shredded remains out, cutting his mouth in the process, before allowing his face to return to normal.

Ben took several deep breaths as he stood there, his chest heaving as he stared at the ruined weapon. Then, ever so slowly, he sheathed his left hand sabre, and held the right one forward in a ready position.

"I don't fight dirty, unlike you," he muttered, spitting blood out of his mouth. "Let's go."

Ridley stepped forward, his scratched katana meeting with Ben's perfect sabre.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"_Aufflackern!_"

As Eileen finished yelling this, she collapsed to the ground, completely exhausted and used up. She had nothing left. No magical power, and no ethers. She felt Quin wrapping an arm around her and lifting her, pulling her along with him. In his hands she could feel the pulse of magic coursing through his veins, pounding away along his circulation.

"Last door," he muttered as he slammed it shut. He was breathing heavily. He was also nearly done. "This hasn't been much of a rescue operation, has it?"

"Not… really," she gasped.

"Well, there's no way that we can fight off all those thieves outside, even if I use my Ultima magic," Quin contemplated aloud. "But perhaps if I were to use it on a different target…"

"What target… would that be?"

"This support beam looks good," he said, sizing it up.

"_What_?"

"We don't want to get captured, that's for sure. The only way I can think of doing that is taking the building down and hoping that we can either blow our way out with magic or get rescued before air supply runs out."

"Aren't you just smiles and sunshine?" Eileen said, getting her voice back.

"Best I could up with on such short time."

"Whatever, then. Let's do it."

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Get on with it."

He nodded, and took a very deep breath. The light around them dimmed slowly, gathering around him. All of existence began leaning in towards him, bending everything in the area, the light dimming further. A hum was raised about them as sound was also bent towards Quin. He took a deep breath, and drew back his mace, which was glowing with brilliant light of every colour, including many which have yet to be named.

"Wait!" Eileen cried, her voice barely audible.

The light and noise instantly died, but Quin still didn't move. He spoke, and his voice was strained. "What is it?"

"There's fighting going on outside," she said, pushing her ear to the door. "Somebody's there!"

"Uh, Eileen, lots of pressure built up with this spell right now, you know…"

"Yeah, I know, but someone's out there!"

"Eileen…"

"I think I recognize one of their voices… it's Isaac!"

"Eileen!"

"What? Oh, right," Eileen swung the door open, exposing all the backs of the thieves, who were indeed focused the other way. "Be my guest."

"_ULTIMA!_" Quin bellowed, and all the light and humming came back, grew to a climax, and thundered out of the mace in one concentrated blow which killed eight of their enemies.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"What the hell was _that_, kupo?" Thomas demanded as he whipped a torch he'd materialized out of no where into the face of a nearby mage.

"It felt like Ultima!" Isaac told him back as he twirled and parried a blow, throwing the thief's knife up high enough for Thom to throw a dagger into his face.

"One of you knows _Ultima_?" the juggler demanded, sidestepping an attack neatly and driving his melee dagger into an exposed neck.

"I know that neither Eileen or Ben know it, kupo, and I doubt that Ezel knows it…" Isaac muttered, realising who this left. He dove down and tackled a ninja in the legs, throwing him to the ground.

The two had been coming down this way to the main entrance in hopes of helping Isaac's friends, whom Thom had last seen at the door. However, on the way, they'd noticed a large pack of thieves banging at a door with a trail of wreckage and thief bodies behind them, and figured they were in the right place.

"So, is this the kind of 'irreparable damage' you wanted happening at the thieves' guild, kupo?" Isaac asked as they pressed forward.

"Well, I was hoping that there would be a bit more of Ben unleashing crazy wild magics on Ridley, kupo, but it'll do. Speaking of Ridley, where is he?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ridley and Ben had barely changed position for twenty straight minutes. The two fought, back and forth and back and forth, one never gaining more than a metre or so before the other came back in during their dance for death.

Ben was currently retreating, suddenly finding himself once again wishing he'd learnt how to create that magical shield instead of how to fight with two swords. Then, he might be able to abandon this annoying defence.

_You could always draw your other sabre_, one part of his mind told him.

_I could, _he admitted to that part, grinning, _but that would be no where near as fun as this._

And Ben _was_ having fun. It was the best battle he'd had for months. Sure, the blue mage tournament had afforded some close and intense battle, but nothing like the pure ecstasy of simply going one-on-one, with nothing but his one weapon, his skill, his strength, and his agility to protect him against an equally matched foe.

Ben came out of a vicious series of stabbing and parrying, occasionally both at once, with his sabre, with Ridley having come out on top with one deep lunge coming at his chest. To avoid, he took a jump at the wall, placed his foot on it, and twirled on it as a pivot, throwing himself out of the way of the stab and into a jumping roundhouse kick. Ridley attempted to block with his free arm, and succeeded, however his arm was thrown against the wall. Ridley, however, spun around this, throwing his entire body against Ben, and pinning Ben between himself and the wall, a foot off the ground.

Both of their weapons were stuck between them, totally useless. Ben, on instinct, threw all his strength into slamming his shoulders into the wall and pushing his bent knees against Ridley's chest. Ridley, caught off guard by the sudden heavy pressure against his chest, was thrown back against the opposite wall. Ben slid to the ground and landed on his hands and knees heavily. Ridley already had his balance back, however, and he had his katana grasped in both hands, ready to stab it down through Ben's skull. He began the downstroke, but Ben rolled violently to the side, dodging it and pushing heavily off with his shoulder so that he spun up and over to his feet.

Ben twirled and swung his sabre at his opponent's side, but was surprised when Ridley, using his katana, which was still embedded in the hard floor from his crushing stab, as a pivot, pulled a full front flip. As he passed the crest of the flip, he tugged hard, ripping the katana out of the earth. He landed flat on his feet, spun around and slashed. Ben blocked, and they were back at it, stabbing, parrying, slashing and spinning.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Isaac!" Eileen yelled when she saw him through the crowd. "How the hell did you escape?"

"Tell you later," he said, blocking an attack and cutting at a shield with his blade. "I'm a bit busy right now!"

"Oh, right," she said, looking about her. The thieves had, for the most part, decided to leave her and Quin, who was passed out limp on the earthen floor of the room behind her, since Isaac and whoever the other moogle were had shown up. She looked at him as he fought. The other moogle was a juggler, no doubt about that, and an extremely skilled one at that. His knives were flying about them in a constant hail like there would be no tomorrow. Every now and again, he would whip out a torch and burn somebody or pull a large ring from out of nowhere to throw around somebody, but for the most part he just threw out a steady stream of destruction.

There were only five enemies left now. While Isaac fenced with one whose shield kept managing to intercept his attacks, the other moogle threw one last dagger into the one's face, then drew two longer daggers from wrist sheaths, and quickly dispatched two more before the last one broke and fled.

Isaac banged his enemy's sword away one last time, and this time actually grabbed his enemy's shield with one hand and slowed it long enough for him to slash him through the leather armour he wore and into his skin. The soldier fell, and Isaac stood, his chest heaving.

He looked over at the other moogle. "Can you still reach him with one of your knives, Thom?"

"Nope, kupo."

"This might help," Eileen said, reaching into her robes and grabbing a belt which had on it a pair of guns and several bullets. His gun bandolier. She passed it to him.

"Thanks, kupo," Isaac said, even as he drew his Longbarrel, twirled to face the fleeing thief, and focused all of the feelings of paralysis, all the awkwardness he felt when he was alone with Eileen and all of his hesitation from fear into the bullet. He pulled the trigger, and watched the thief as he stopped in mid stride.

"Well, that was fun, kupo," the other moogle said. "Why couldn't the two of you handle it on your own?"

"Well, it's kind of difficult for a pair of mages to take on an entire small army of thieves without melee backup!" Eileen defended. "Besides, with our limited amount of magic alone we probably took down over thirty! We had to start dropping all of the judgepoints."

"Excuses. I thought that sages were supposed to be pretty good at defending themselves, kupo. The good ones, at least."

"I'm quite close to crushing your face, moogle," Eileen warned as she hefted her mace.

"Eileen," Isaac said, stepping between the two, "might I introduce you to Thomas?"

"Ah…"

"Nice to see you again, kupo," the juggler said, sweeping into a grand bow.

"Thom, you want to go finish that thief before he unfreezes so this engagement can be done?"

"Sure thing," he said, turning and running over to the thief as he twirled a dagger around his finger.

This left Isaac and Eileen alone with each other. Isaac looked up at her and took a breath to speak, but let it out again. She was rubbing the back of her head awkwardly.

"Uh, Isaac," she said. "What I said earlier, I, uh, I didn't…"

"It's alright," he said, focusing his attention on his gun, which he was spinning frantically about his trigger finger. "I know."

There was silence for another moment. Finally, Eileen said, "So no hard feelings?"

"Nah, none. I'd have to be quite an arse to hold a grudge over that conversation, kupo. I was being a wanker."

"No, you weren't, you were right. I should be more careful. There _is _a thieves' guild after us."

"Uh, kupo," Isaac said, looking about himself at the wreckage. "I _don't _think they'll be too keen to come at us again."

"Yeah, well, even if they're not going to kill us, the city guard is still after me on request of the Alchemists' guild."

"Not for long," Isaac said, a broad smile on his face.

"Why?"

He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a piece of parchment, which he tossed to her. "Happy early birthday, kupo. A little something from the treasure room."

Eileen stared down at the magical map which had been her downfall for so many months. "_What_? Sorry if I don't sound grateful, but _how the hell did you get your bloody paws on this_?"

"I had a choice. I could either take a hefty share of gold from the room, kupo, or I could take this. I figured I owed you one for yelling at you, so there you go."

Eileen just switched from staring at Isaac and the map. Finally, she lunged forward and grabbed him in a fierce hug. "Thank you so much."

"Ahem," Thomas said from behind them, holding a bloody dagger. "Sorry if I'm interrupting something here…"

The two jumped apart. "Uh, yeah, well, we've still got a lot to do," Eileen said. "There's a good number of rangers on the walls outside, and our spells can't reach them."

"That's for sure," Quin said, walking over and rubbing his eyes. "About how long do you think we have until these boys wake up?"

They all looked down at the thieves littered around them. By the rules of engagement, the losers would remain dead for a few minutes before coming back to life, allowing the winners to either take what they wanted, tie them up, or escape.

"It usually depends on the situation, kupo," Thomas muttered. "In this case, seeing as they outnumbered us big time, we'll probably get a kupo amount of time. I'd say about ten minutes."

"Alright, so, how do we take down the rangers and get out of here?" Eileen asked. "Would your knives reach them?"

"If one of your spells won't, kupo," Thomas figured, subconsciously tossing two daggers from hand to hand as he thought, "odds are I won't be able to throw that far. I might be able to get away without being hit and then bring back help, but you guys would need to tell me who to find. I don't know anyone, kupo."

"That won't do," Quin muttered, "they'll wake up before you get back."

"Uh," Isaac said, "how many are there, kupo, out there?"

"Probably six."

"Bring it on, kupo," he muttered, pulling out both of his guns and heading for the front doors.

The other three followed him, talking as they went.

"Isaac, you're talking about taking on six rangers right now. They've got the high ground, and they're prepared. Not to mention they know the terrain. What do you think your odds are?"

"Tell me what the ground's like, kupo."

"Pretty plain," Eileen said, recalling her and Quin's mad dash. "There were a few boulders set up there. Some sort of zen thing, probably."

"Describe the walls they're on, kupo."

"Normal old walls. No ramparts or anything. It's not a castle. There's ivy growing on them. A good shot or two might be able to knock one off."

"Right," Isaac said, pausing at the door. He took off his blade and passed it to Thomas. "Hold this for me. Would somebody lend me a judgepoint?"

"Right here," Quin said, pulling one from his heavy sash.

Isaac pushed his fedora down lower on his head. "Use it," he said, and kicked the door open, diving as he went.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Finally, Ben and Ridley had left their narrow hallway. Their battle was now ranging all across the empty house, destroying much of it as they went. They had gone up a flight of stairs, down a hallway, descended two flights, and ascended one more flight. Currently, they were in a great hall, with many windows and draperies in it.

"Well, after a very thorough tour of the area," Ben said, spinning out of the way of an attack, "I believe that I'm confident to say that you're the only one left."

"Only one left in here," Ridley countered, jumping back as Ben brought a counter-attack at him. "I've got six of our best archers on the walls. Even if you manage to beat me, you won't be able to escape. And trust me when I say that they're out of range of magic."

"Yeah, the best in the guild," Ben said, rolling his eyes. "So that means Jan, Carlos, John, Tim, Janine, and Marlene? You know as well as I that they ain't the best of archers. I'd say that Isaac can take them any day."

"You're that overconfident?"

"He's that good." _And you'd better not disappoint me, moogle._

At that moment, the window they were standing next to shattered, sending shards of glass flying all over the place. Ben and Ridley each instantly broke off from their battle to throw themselves out of the way of the sharp glass blades. As he jumped, Ben felt a stinging pain in the back of his right hand, but shrugged it off. Both of them landed quite lightly on their feet, and Ben clamped his left hand over the right. He checked it, and saw a welt, the kind which was normally left by one of Isaac's bullets. He looked up at Ridley and smirked.

"Would you care to watch?" He gestured at the window.

"If your really need a breather that badly, you could just ask," Ridley smiled, nodding. They each walked over to the window to watch.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Isaac ducked easily under the first arrow, not letting it come close to him. He twirled and didn't even look at his target, just firing off a confushot in the direction of the arrow. He saw the next three arrows coming in all at once, and threw himself sideways, ducking his ears down as he rolled behind one of the boulders Eileen had spoken of.

Looking around quickly, he judged nobody would be able to get a shot at him for a few seconds, so he paused to shove another bullet into his gun. He got up and started running again, just as an arrow slammed into boulder and snapped. He spun both guns around his fingers and pointed the two of them directly at one of the archers. Isaac pulled the triggers, and managed to hit the man in both of his shins. The archer fell over forward, and toppled over the edge of the wall, plummeting to the earth twenty feet below.

Knowing that his guns were no longer loaded, the archers broke cover and started firing off shot after shot. Isaac had to pull off some manoeuvres he'd never even heard of before to avoid all of them. He jumped, rolled, ducked, and flapped his wings hard, sometimes all at once. He crossed the entire expanse of the courtyard, before he was stopped by the wall. Figuring he had better chances going up instead of standing still, Isaac jumped as he reached the wall and grabbed onto the ivy, climbing as quickly as he could.

Instantly, the closest archer started running over towards the top of that part of the wall as the others kept up the barrage. Isaac, seeing this, made a quick, impromptu plan, and sped up his ascent.

Just as he placed a hand on top of the wall, the archer made it there, and put an arrow to his string, pointing it down at Isaac's face.

Apparently, the archer had never heard of wings, as he was caught completely off-guard when Isaac heaved himself upward, flapping rapidly and flying forward and under the bow, head butting him in the stomach. Isaac then grabbed the arrow off of the string and threw him off the edge. Not waiting to see whether the man had present of mind enough to grab the ivy, the gunner ran along the wall, keeping low as arrows continued to fly in from the remaining three archers. He already knew what he would do with the next.

The next was a vierra, with a large knife clamped between her teeth and an old blackened bow. She appeared to be the best of all the archers, and the knife made her extra dangerous. This was why Isaac had decided not to leave her to last. He rounded a corner in the wall, and then he and she were in line with each other. She had already taken her belt and wrapped one end around her foot, the other around a vine of ivy that was growing along beneath her. Clever.

The archer began shooting directly at him, attempting to aim for where he would be dodging to instead of where he was. Isaac kept trying to dodge, and at one point he was grazed quite deeply along his arm. He grunted through the pain, and came level with her. She dropped the bow and grabbed the knife, waiting for him to close. Isaac came in, and as the slash came, he simply raised his right arm, smacking it out of the way and causing it to cut a deep slash into the muscle. He drove his left hand through the empty space, and stabbed his arrow through the vierra's neck. As she gasped in shock, he pushed her over the side, leaving her there to dangle.

Isaac, knowing that he couldn't take another confrontation like this, steeled himself and jumped over the edge of the wall, flapping his wings to slow the fall. It worked, but then he felt a pain shoot through his left wing as an arrow pierced the thin skin strung out tightly between the bones. Isaac fell the last five feet with a dismayed, "Kupo!" He landed heavily, twisting an ankle and rolling over.

As he went, Isaac drew one of his two guns, not seeing which, and hoping it was the right one. He loaded a bullet into it, and as he came out of his roll, he grabbed the gun in both hands and pointed, letting the burning adrenaline and flaming agony of his wounds flow down into his hands. Much to his happiness, the gun in his hands welcomed this, in fact, it craved it, amplifying it.

Isaac smirked. It was the right gun.

Flames roared from the gun as the bullet blasted from it. The kickback was so strong that Isaac's fingers went numb and he dropped the gun. The bullet smashed into the wall just below the feet of one of the last archers, and exploded. The archer cried out as he was flung backwards, off of the wall and into the street below, still on fire.

Isaac rolled over to face the last archer. Their eyes met, and Isaac dimly noticed the arrow pulled all the way back on the string, pointing at him. Sighing, Isaac played his last card.

Literally.

His left hand went to his sash, and he tossed something into the air even as the arrow was let loose. It was a card, with a picture of an arrow on it. As the paper dissolved into light, the archer's missile flew through where it had been a moment before, and cut into Isaac's forehead, smashing into his brain.

The archer stared with a stunned expression, even as the judge blew a whistle and cried out, "Infraction! Red card for Janine! All violators will go directly to jail."

And with that, the engagement was over.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"That Isaac's a resourceful one, you've got to give him that," Ben laughed, turning to face his old foe. His laughter stopped at once as he saw Ridley.

The thief held a small, hand crossbow, specially made with a dock to hold 6 bolts.

"You have no idea how much I want to see you dead," Ridley said, and pulled the trigger.

Ben jumped straight up and grabbed one of the rafters, lifting himself up and out of the way of the first bolt. He jumped up on top of that piece of wood, just as the second bolt flew in. He leapt from his perch to one just across from it, as the second shot was wasted. He jumped down from the rafters, then, rolling forward as the bolt hit at his heels, just missing his boot.

At this point, Ben decided he didn't want to wait for the other three shots, so he undid the clasp of his belt, letting his sabres drop to the ground. He needed to be as light as possible for the next few seconds.

He turned to face Ridley, his face grim, and then ran, all out, straight at him. The ninja was surprised by this, but didn't forget to shoot the bolt at the charging Blue mage.

The bolt came in.

Ben did a front flip.

The bolt flew by beneath him.

As Ben went over Ridley's head, he grabbed the hilt of the scratched katana.

He landed, twirled, grabbed Ridley by the hair, pulled his head back, and placed the katana's blade at his throat.

The two didn't move for a full minute, just panting in position. Then, leaning in close so Ridley could feel his breath, Ben whispered, "And now you pay for your crimes."


	28. Two Last Duels FOR NOW

"Alright, we are about to get rolling, here at the finals of the legendary Cadoan Colour Tournament!"

Isaac sat up, suddenly coming back into consciousness. He shook all over and ran a hand through his headfur. What had just happened?

He looked about him, and saw that he was in the small chamber they gave Ben for when he was preparing for battles. In the room were also Ezel and Eileen, who were speaking hurriedly with Ben and passing him all his equipment.

"So you're just going to go right out there and talk to her, right?"

"That's the plan."

"You're not going to try to have a bit of a fight with her, just for the sake of the crowds?"

"Ezel, I realise you're getting paid for these battles, but you really, _really _need to realise that last time I fought her she stabbed me in the chest. Quite easily, at that."

"Hey, hey, do whatever you need to. Just make sure that, you know, you work the crowd up a bit before, you know, act as though you're about to fly into a duel with reckless abandon—"

"I'm not doing it, Ezel!"

"Good morning, everybody, kupo," Isaac said, standing up and walking over to them.

Instantly, all three jumped and turned to him.

"You're up!"

"It took you long enough. I mean, seriously, your snores were getting a bit annoying."

"Is this really all the thanks I get for buying all of us a ticket out of that hellhole, kupo?" Isaac demanded.

"Oh, don't get us wrong," Ben told him, smirking, "it's great that you did that for us, but seriously, if you could just, like, wake up so that I wouldn't have to carry you next time, that'd be even better."

A loud voice suddenly interrupted them from their conversation. "Would the contestants please step onto the field!"

"That's my queue," Ben said, putting his large hat on and straightening his jacket. "How do I look?"

"Pretty nifty," Ezel said, bustling him out, "now let's go! I need to be out there too."

Once they were alone together, Isaac turned to Eileen. "Uh, what's going on right now?"

Eileen started leading Isaac out, towards the stands. "Well, Ben is going out there to meet Jacqueline. She won her battle, too!"

"Right…" Isaac said, glancing over his shoulder at Ben's figure as they went up the stairs. "And Ben _doesn't _plan on fighting, am I right?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Well, kupo, the fact that he's wearing his veil might make that somewhat difficult to argue," the moogle said.

"_What?_" Eileen spun around to stare at Ben, walking towards the center of the ring, where Jacqueline already stood, waiting.

The two stood there for a second, halfway to their seats, staring. Then Isaac said half-heartedly, "Well, this ought to be entertaining."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Ben approached her, marvelling at her beauty. Before, he'd been far too busy trying to not die to notice it. Now, though, he saw that Jacqueline was even more beautiful as a vierra than she was as a human. Her long, nearly knee-length silver hair with long rabbit ears of the same colour cut a sharp contrast against her darkly tanned skin and sweeping red robes. They were very elaborate, and definitely made in a way to prevent anyone from seeing how she moved. Her shirt was a very pale pink which reminded Ben of chewed bubblegum, and her pants were extremely loose. They were the same shade of pure red as the knee-length cloak, with its gold embroidery and string binding it around her neck. She wasn't wearing the customary tall hat of a red mage, apparently having ditched it in order to not hinder her movement.

She looked up at him as she approached, and an expression of shock flashed across her beautiful face. Ben smirked, storing this image away in his memory forever. As he smirked, his lips brushed against the fabric of his veil.

He thought two words, the first one 'oh', the second rhyming with duck, just as the expression of shock was replaced by a look of anger and rage.

Jacqueline rushed at him, drawing her rapier and throwing a hunk of ice at him.

Ben was so surprised by this sudden turn of events that he completely forgot to duck the ice chunk and it smashed him in the face, throwing him backwards onto his rump. He paused to grab his nose, screaming, "Bloody hell!" At that moment, he had to quickly draw his sabres, jump to his feet and block a lunge at him. He threw the rapier out far to the side, and began reaching up to rip the veil from his face, but Jacqueline's attack continued, coming in quickly and brutally. Ben began backing up, knocking stab after stab away from himself. He was extremely surprised by the sheer speed and fury of the attack.

Looking about, he wondered why hell nobody had summoned a judge yet, as he ducked under one last stab before throwing himself sideways into a round-off to give himself some more space, and possibly the time to remove his veil.

In all truth, everybody was far too surprised to summon a judge. The idea of it, of anyone, even a competitor as fierce and brutal as Jacqueline, attacking before she was allowed, was just beyond anything they knew. Thus, they stared, none realising that somebody could quite easily die here.

As Ben jumped sideways out of the way of a thrust, he heard Jacqueline yelling at him. "Who the hell are you? Why have you been following me?"

Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Jacqueline took advantage of his moment of motionless to smash her hilt into his gut. Ben gasped, bending over double. Jacqueline then smacked him in the head with her hilt, and Ben fell to the ground, moaning.

"No, forget that. I don't want you to tell me!" she said, kicking one of his sabres away from him.

Ben grabbed his remaining sabre and attempted to roll away to the left, but Jacqueline stabbed her sabre through the earth just to his left, stopping him. He took in a breath to take one last chance to speak in his defence, but she placed a foot on his chest and placed pressure on it. His air left him and he wheezed, wondering for a moment why he'd ever bothered with love.

Jacqueline pointed her rapier down at his face, just touching against the veil.

"I want to find out who you are when I look into your dead eyes."

Ben saw his one opportunity, and, knowing it was his only chance, stopped looking at her face and moved his eyes down to look at her arm, waiting for that tell-tale muscle twitch.

He saw it, and sprung into action.

Jacqueline's rapier came forward, and Ben rocked his shoulders against the earth, tilting his head all the way back. The rapier cut through the fabric, and rushed forward, cutting, instead of a giant gouge in one side and out the other, a shallow cut along his cheek bone.

Jacqueline, enraged at the miss, drew her rapier back, preparing for one last plunge at him—

And stopped. When she'd pulled her rapier back, she ripped the veil away, and now she could see…

"Ben?"

He smirked at her, and said, "How you been?"

She dropped her rapier, and, without a second thought, threw herself on him, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a fierce kiss.

The crowd exploded with applause, not the least amongst whom were Isaac and Eileen, who had both stood up long ago while watching the tense fight, and were now screaming at their close friends.

Jacqueline pulled out of their kiss for just a moment to ask, "What took you so long?"

"Sorry," he muttered, "I would've been faster, but I had storm a thieves' guild."

"You ought to ask next time you want to do that," she ordered, and then they were back at it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Well, I think that we should leave now," Eileen said, grabbing Isaac's arm.

"Kupokupo?"

"I've got some business to attend to, and I'd like your help with it."

"Right, kupo," Isaac said as they pushed their way towards the entrance. "So, uh, what all did I miss while I was out?"

"Oh, lots," she said, pushing the door open and going out into the streets. "First things first, Thomas sends his regards. He said something about splitting for a performer's job in Muscadet."

"Well, so far as a juggler he's worked for the palace as a warrior and a thief for a guild, kupo, so I guess it's high for him to be an actual juggler."

"He also said something about using that group as a front for other elicit activities he'll be taking on in Sprohm."

Isaac sighed. "Sure sounds like him, kupo."

"Yeah. Then Ben got his name cleared."

"Kupopo?"

"He dragged that Ridley fella' down to the jail, and managed to accuse him of everything Ben had actually committed. Ben's off."

"Sweet. Anything else notable that happened, kupo?"

"Nope," she said. "The next notable thing you get to witness, as a member of my backup."

"Your backup, kupo?"

"Yep. Well, more of my emotional support. The other member, Quin, will be meeting us there."

Isaac tried to hide his disappointment at the sound of this name, and decided to instead just take pleasure in this time alone he had with Eileen. It _was_ supposed to be a day of celebration. And, he thought suddenly, didn't she pretty much just say that Quin wasn't _enough _emotional support for her? That she also wanted Isaac there? With that thought, a grin crossed the moogle's features. Well, maybe it was a day of celebration after all.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Quin was waiting for them outside of a great, majestic hall in the uptown section of Cadoan. It was all sweeping and gracefully curving architecture, and above the main doors, which appeared to be made of some sort of heavy and expensive wood, was a stained glass image of an eye incorporated into the wall, with the framework made of white on the outside, black nearer the centre, and golden in the pupil. Though he'd never seen it before, Isaac knew in an instant that this must be the famed Alchemists' Guild of Cadoan.

Quin smiled and nodded at Isaac as the two approached. "Nice to see that the hero's awake. That was amazing what you did back there."

Isaac felt his cheeks glowing red with pride despite himself. "Thanks, kupo, but really, it was nothing."

"Are you kidding? Taking down six on your own when you were already wounded. That's a bit more than nothing." With this, he turned to Eileen, and said quietly to her, "Are you ready for this?"

"I've been ready for a very long time."

"Okay then," he breathed. He stepped back, and opened his cloak a bit so that his mace's handle was hanging out. His shield was already affixed to his arm, except it was a different shield from the last one. The other shield was dented and broken, while this one was far newer and more extravagant. Definitely made for the sake of appearance. He looked over at Isaac and asked, "Has she told you why we're here yet?"

"Not exactly, kupo."

"Well, let me tell you, appearance counts. Mainly based upon how intimidating you can be. So…"

"I'll deal with it, kupo," Isaac said, and he pulled the hood of his dark brown cloak over his head. He took both of his belts from around his waist and tied them around his shoulders and hips, before doing up the front of his cloak. He spread his arms wide. "How's this?"

"I like it," Quin said approvingly.

"Let's get this over with," Eileen said, in an annoyed manner despite the grin in her eyes.

They walked into the Alchemists' Guild, Eileen at their head, Quin behind her to the right, Isaac a step behind Quin on her left.

The moment that the three of them entered, Isaac started looking around, darting his head about in quick glances here and there and everywhere. He told himself that it was to get a good view of the terrain, but he knew that he just wanted to take it all in. It was a very wide corridor they were crossing, stretching out far to the right and left. On carved wooden signs with arrows on them were names of different rooms for experimentation and the like. Directly across from them was a large, double door made of the same expensive wood as the ones outside. A large plaque above the doors had the words, "Meeting Auditorium", written on it. As they approached the doors, Isaac could distinctly hear voices speaking on the other side, raised, as though speaking to a large audience.

Suddenly, Eileen's plan became apparent to Isaac, and his jaw dropped. Wow. She had guts.

With one look back at Isaac and Quin to make sure they were ready, she pushed the doors open with one, hard shove, walked in with the other two behind her, and let them bang shut.

Isaac took a look around the room, and had to consciously stop himself from whistling. It was a huge, cavern like room with black walls and rows upon rows of seats in a large ring around a stage at the center of the room. It looked like the entire space could seat about four hundred people.

At the sound of her entering, a few of the nu mous situated closest to the doors turned to look, and one or two of these gasped. The old, grey, male nu mou standing on the stage in the middle of a speech didn't even pause or take a glance in their direction, being too engaged in his performance. Isaac noticed a look pass between Eileen and Quin, which could only possibly be described as wicked glee.

The two stepped forward, and Isaac followed them an instant later. As they walked forward, down the center aisle, more people turned to see them. Isaac distinctly noticed that most of them were older male nu mous, with only a few smatterings of younger people here and there, and maybe only three females in the entire place. For some reason, he got the idea that Eileen's description of the Guild as 'a bunch of crusty old right-wing assholes who are bitter because a female got a better test score than them' wasn't too far off from the mark.

Isaac just picked up Quin whispering to Eileen, "How far forward are you going to go?"

"All the way."

"Are you serious?"

"Yep."

"You have got more guts than I ever will."

Isaac, confused by this conversation, took a more thorough look at the room, and noticed that the colour of the carpeting along the aisle changed the farther along one went. The first section, the farthest out, was white; the colour of a novice Alchemist. In the center was black carpet, which symbolized a master's Alchemist rank, and finally the carpet turned to flowing gold, a sign of a Third Eye, the highest ranked Alchemists.

Wow. She _did _have nerve.

Eventually, everybody except the nu mou up on stage had stopped listening to the speech and stared at Eileen, and there was a very low buzz of whispered conversations coming from all around them. Finally, as they reached the center of the auditorium, Eileen walked over and sat down in one of the empty seats.

As soon as she sat, the buzz of conversation got much louder. At this point, the nu mou at the front turned and saw the three of them, then stopped speaking to stare at her.

There was a horrible silence, maybe ten seconds long, as everybody simply stared at her and tried to take it in. Eileen finally broke the silence by saying, "I'm back."

"Eileen Mindclear?" the nu mou on stage demanded. "What the devil do you think you're doing here?"

"I was planning originally on simply waiting until the end of the lecture to speak with you," she muttered, examining her nails casually, "but then you decided to stop and gawk at me. And while I must admit the shocked and confused look is good on you, I figured I should save some of your dignity by saying something. Elder Bartholemue Greatspell," she added almost as a second thought.

Apparently Bartholemue came to his senses, and said loudly, "Guards!"

Instantly, several nu mou approached in full battle regalia, walking down the aisle towards them. Isaac began reaching for the hilt of his blade, but Quin whispered to him, "Not yet."

"Mindclear," the nu mou said, his face a mask of fury, "you are under arrest for debts to the Alchemists' Guild of Cadoan. If you resist, you and your friends shall be sent directly to prison."

"Is that so?" Eileen asked, not looking in the slightest bit worried. "I had hoped that you would give me a chance to speak. After all, that is the way of the Guild. Negotiation before confrontation."

"There is nothing to negotiate," said Bartholemue his fury turning into an incredibly gleeful smirk.

"But there is," Eileen said loudly, so that her voice echoed. She stood, and as she did, she let her robes hang out at their fullest extent, and an orange glow of magic struck up about her. "And I will defend my right to speak using the powers that this Guild afforded me upon my introduction to Alchemy."

Greatspell looked down at her from his stage, and very faintly one could make out a dull orange glow about him. While his aura of Alchemic magic wasn't as apparent as Eileen's, who was displaying it by choice, it was much larger, projecting from him to nearly clean across the stage, with slight tangles and bunches of orange light barely visible, bouncing around in the air.

"Fine," he said finally. "You have five minutes to speak."

Smirking, Eileen held a hand out to Quin. Quin took it, and gave it a squeeze, then Eileen stepped forward and jumped onto the stage easily. There she stood, looking around to all the assembled alchemists.

"My fellows," she said, "I regret that I have been separated from my beloved guild for so many months. However, you voted almost unanimously to send me off to find the map which was stolen from me, and thus that I did. This would have been a very simple task, however, certain things distracted my path along the way. Firstly, the mercenaries I hired to aid me, suggested to me by our illustrious leader," she gestured grandly at Bartholemue, "commited mutiny against me, and had it not been for some quick work by my good friends Benjamin, the Blue Ninja, and Isaac of the _Torrent_, who stands here before you, they quite likely would have tortured, raped, and killed me." She paused at the outraged cries from many of the younger Alchemists and even some of the older ones, though very few from these elders.

"We had retrieved the map, at this point, but my friends and I had to leave it behind with the mercenaries in order to escape with all our lives. After this, I returned to this good city in the hopes of regrouping before I set out after the mercenaries, but when I came upon my residence, I found it being ransacked by many men. They claimed to have been hired by this very Guild, but I could not believe them, for I trust all of you too much." As she said this, she looked around her, almost at each one of them in turn, and was satisfied by the looks of discomfort and guilt on many of the faces. "I realized that I had to flee the city, at least until things cooled down a bit.

"However, on my way to Cyril, my friends and I were once again attacked, this time by none other than Diaghilev Godeye, onetime assosciate of my elder Greatspell. We managed to defeat him with aid from some friends, and promptly had him arrested.

"I returned only a few nights ago with information that a Thieves' Guild had paid off my mercenaries to attack me, so my friends and I stormed the compound. Thanks to my moogle friend, I managed to retrieve your precious map." As she said this, she reached into the sleeve of her robe, and drew out the piece of parchment. Turning, she threw it at Bartholemue's feet, and said, "That is all I have to say."

She hopped down from the stage and ran to sit in her chair again. Isaac reached over and lightly squeezed her arm, and she, without taking her gaze from the nu mou on stage, reached over and brushed a hand across his, smirking at him out of the corner of her eye.

Bartholemue stood up on stage, staring at the map for a long time. Then, he said, very quietly, "Why did you not return after your house was so horribly robbed? If you had explained the situation to us, surely we would have underst—"

"The conduct of the guards the moment I sat down leads me to believe otherwise," Eileen interrupted him, all the feigned trust she had used during her speech gone, "sir."

The nu mou remained quiet once again. Then, very loudly and in a forced-pleasant voice, he said, "Well, good work then. All the charges will be dropped, and we can forget this ever happened."

"Excuse me sir," said another alchemist, standing up. This one was old, older than Bartholemue, so old that his fur was all a dark shade of grey and bits of it were falling out in places. Despite his obvious frailty, his appearance suggested extreme sharpness and alertness. The eye of gold in his hat was old and worn, just like the nu mou who wore it. "Permission to speak on this subject?"

The way he said it made it seem like less of request and more of an order. "Permission granted, Proffessor Auggie," Bartholemue said, annoyedly.

"After having gone to such lengths to retrieve the map, and having never at any moment given up faith in our guild, I feel myself forced to say that young Mindclear deserves far more than a pardon. In fact, I nominate that she be elevated to the position of master."

There was silence again after this. While everybody seemed shocked by this proposition, there was a general feeling of fear of contradicting this aged Professor Auggie. Isaac thought he remembered Eileen mentioning an Auggie before, and searched his memory. Wasn't he the alchemist under who Eileen had studied?

At length, Bartholemue said, "Does anybody second the nomination?"

"I second it," one nu mou, a younger master with burns on his skin said, standing.

"Does anybody third?" The great alchemist sounded almost annoyed by his own words.

"I will third it," said another Third Eye.

"Fine," he snapped. "We'll hold a vote. Masters and Third Eyes only. Who feels that _female_ novice Eileen Mindclear should be elevated to the status of master?"

Hands shot up. Bartholemue's eyes darted around the room. "Right, so that makes sixty-eight…"

"Seventy-eight by my count," Auggie interrupted.

"Fine, _seventy_-eight! All against?"

Again, hands shot up, and Bartholemue counted. This time, seeing that Auggie was also counting, he said truthfully, "Seventy-two against."

He didn't talk for a long while. Eventually, Auggie supplied, "Which would mean that…"

"Which would mean that she is now officially a master, yes, I know the rules, Auggie!"

"Good," Auggie said firmly. "Make sure you remember them."

"Fine! What with all the dramatics so far, I feel that we should end this meeting now. I'll finish my lecture tomorrow."

With that, Bartholemue Greatspell hopped down from the stage and walked straight up to and through the doors before anybody could comment about it.

All of the other alchemists got up and started making their ways slowly out, collecting different apparel which belonged to them. Auggie quickly approached the three of them, and said, "Hah, I told you you'd make at the _very _least master one day, and what do you know? You'll be a Third Eye in no time!"

"I doubt it," Eileen said, still smiling. "Most of those who voted for me were masters, and they have no say in who elevates to Third Eyes."

"They'll have to let you through if you're good enough, which you almost are _now_. Hey, how would the three of you like to come to my place tonight, you know, celebrate a bit."

"There's nothing I'd like to do more, professor," Eileen said, "however, I have to be with my friends this evening. I'm sorry, I'll come and see you as soon as I get my new hat, though."

"Oh, no problem, no problem. Don't be a stranger, though, it's been too long since we last spoke. Goodbye, then."

"Of course. And thank you so much, professor!"

As Auggie left, Eileen, Quin and Isaac realised that they were the last ones in the auditorium. Eileen looked over at the two of them, and a huge smile splayed across her face. "How about _them _apples?"

Quin grabbed her from her sitting position, standing her up, and gave her a huge kiss, right on the lips, right glaringly in front of Isaac, who quickly began suppressing the urge to twitch or stab Quin the back of the neck. As soon as he came out of it, Quin said, "So, where should we celebrate tonight?"

"Uh, Quin, I'm sorry, I swear I'll celebrate with you tomorrow night, and that I'll pay for dinner, but tonight," she looked over at Isaac and smiled. "Well, tonight I have to be with my friends."

Quin, though disappointed, nodded, and said, "I understand. Ah well, I should probably go and see Gary right now, I did kind of walk out on him when you came to get me to break into that Thieves' Guild."

"You say that so casually."

"It's all in a day's work milady," he winked, then said, "I love you." He then left the auditorium, and Isaac and Eileen were alone.

"Well, I don't think I need to tell you, kupo," Isaac began, "but nice speech there."

"Thanks," she said, and then she sat back down and smiled broadly, looking totally contented. "Well, we've found Jacqueline, she didn't kill Ben, we've cleared both Ben's and my own names, the Thieves' Guild won't be bothering us anymore, and we survived the experience. It's all perfect."

"So how long do you think until it all blows up in our faces, kupo?"

"I wouldn't give us more than a week."


	29. A New, Mildly Insane Quest

A/N: Okay, I have not played many Final Fantasy Games (Tactics Advance, Crystal Chronicles, and FF I+II: Dawn of Souls). Thus, I don't know if any of the assumptions I'm going to be making in this chapter contradict anything from another game (I know Ivalice is in both Tactics and FF XII). Either way, please tell me what you think of the lore I'm introducing seem good/plausible. I hope you guys like it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Isaac sat up, his chest heaving and his eyes wide. His eyes quickly scanned the room, checking all the corners. The chair with his belts of weaponry draped over them pushed into the small desk with the papers strewn all over and the unlit lamp on it, the coat rack with his vest and shirt hanging from it, the door. He jumped out of his bed and lit the lamp, hoisting it up so that he could see all the corners of the room.

Nothing was there.

Isaac sighed as he put the lamp back down and shook his head. He sat on the bed for a moment, then grabbed his gun and walked out the window which led to a small balcony. The balcony stretched over to the windows of the other three rooms. It was a little safety feature that Ben had insisted on while renting the house earlier that day. Apparently it was in case somebody tried to kill them (again). Isaac leaned on the railing which went around, and took several deep breaths to calm his breathing.

Suddenly, Isaac heard a noise behind him, and spun around, drawing his gun.

"I guess you're having those dreams again," Eileen muttered, reaching down slightly to push the barrel of his gun away. "And judging from this, they're worse."

Isaac sighed, holstering his gun. "I guess we didn't even get one night to enjoy without something happening."

Eileen leaned up against the railing, remaining quiet for a moment. This gave Isaac an opportunity to stare at her. She was wearing a simple night gown, a major turn-around from her usual robes and bangles covered in magic pendants. Also, without her alchemist hat on, he could clearly see the strange hair which was characteristic of nu mous for the first time. It came down in long, extremely thick strands to just below the nape of her neck, the same light grey colour as her fur. He was tempted to reach forward and touch it, and his hand actually began twitching forward, but he snatched it back at the last second as she turned to look at him.

"What was it about?"

"Kupopo?"

"The dream, you know, the one that was horrible enough to wake you up?"

"Oh, r-right, kupo," Isaac stuttered. "Uh, it's kind of hard to describe."

"Try."

"I don't think that I want to talk about it." He shuddered.

"Come on, it can't be that terrible."

"The dead were walking."

"…oh."

"I think it was Max I was being again. I could tell that he was in a different arena, kupo. I dunno why. It's not like I could _see_ it, but I could sure as hell feel it. Normally, when he fights, it's just him and one other person, and he's feeling nothing but rage. This time, kupo, there were others with him, and he was terrified. They were just fighting against the dead, but every time they kill one it came back. The dream must have been least an hour long, and I was there for all of it. I saw them dying, kupo."

"How do you know it was in an arena, still?"

"They couldn't escape, kupo. The just… died."

Isaac rested his head on his hands, and Eileen didn't press him any further. She reached over and tentatively placed a hand on the back of his head. He shuddered, but didn't push her away. For a while they just stood there, feeling the cold air and looking up at the stars or off over the rooftops.

"Don't let it keep you up," Eileen finally said. "It's not your fault that he's in there; you don't have to suffer for it."

"Oh, I know, kupo. Don't worry; I don't normally get much sleep anyways."

"How do you keep up with it?" Eileen asked. "I mean, seriously, I've seen you take some of the stupidest chances, you're always alert to everything around you, and now you tell me that you barely sleep. But you keep going."

"Well," Isaac muttered, "getting knocked out all the time tends to give me a bit of extra sleep."

"Don't joke, Isaac. You really need to get more rest. You're going to crash one of these days."

Isaac sighed. "Don't worry, kupo, I'll try to get more sleep. I promise."

"Alright, good night then," she yawned, "unlike some people, I _do _get tired."

"Hey, wait a sec, why were _you _up, then?"

She glanced back at him for a moment, smirking, "Are you kidding? I just got promoted to a master's rank. No matter how tired I am, I'll be lucky to get any sleep tonight."

Isaac shook his head and turned back to the horizon. "G'night, then."

He listened as she walked back over to her room and climbed inside. He waited a couple of minutes before he let his legs give out underneath him and he gasped for air. He could still feel the place where her hand had brushed against his fur. As if the nightmares of Maxwell being forced to fight off swarms of undead monsters wasn't enough to keep him up! She had to just come out onto the balcony and talk to him. Now there was no way he was going to be sleeping that night.

"Seems nobody's getting any sleep tonight, hmm?"

Isaac quite nearly jumped out of his fur as he spun around, gun back in hand. It came to bear upon Jacqueline, who was lying with her back against the lightly-slanted roof above him.

"Bloody hell, kupo!" Isaac muttered, dropping the weapon down. "Give me a heart attack, why don't you?"

"Hey, I was trying, but unfortunately you still seem to be standing."

Isaac put his gun away, and asked, "Why didn't you talk to me when I first came out, kupo?"

"Well, I was about to, but then Eileen showed up, and I figured that she had it covered."

"Uh-huh," Isaac said. "So, in that case, what are you talking to me for now, kupo?"

"Just wanted to ask you a question."

"And what would that be?"

"Exactly how long have you been madly in love with Eileen?"

Isaac's eyes widened incredibly, to a size which in all fairness his face shouldn't have been able to support. "Uh… W-what?"

"Well, aside from your little display just now," she said casually, "there's the fact that you were staring at her almost the entire time at the pub tonight."

"Better than staring at you and Ben trying to eat each other's faces, kupo."

"Oh, come on, even when I was talking directly to you, you could barely tear your eyes away from her. I'm surprised that Ben hasn't noticed it yet."

Isaac sighed as he flapped and jumped up to the roof, landing next to her. "Am I seriously that obvious?"

"'fraid so. Any girl you meet will be able to tell. The guys…" she pretended to think for a second, "depending on how thick they are, you'll probably get at least a couple weeks before they notice."

"Thanks for that, kupo. So, seeing as I wasn't paying attention earlier, what have you been doing the past few months?"

"Well, not much aside from competing and touring around. There was that whole stalker thing, but that turned out to be thanks to that Ridley guy you all took down. I don't think I got to tell you earlier, but wow, you've done lots."

"Not really," Isaac said. "Ben and Eileen have done loads more. I was always just in the right place at the right time, kupo."

"Either that, or you're uncannily good at getting your ass pulled out of the fire at the last second."

"Very true, kupo," Isaac laughed. "It's been luck more than anything the entire way."

"Why is it that you never considered joining an organisation like the rest of us?" Jacqueline asked curiously. "They seem to have done the rest of us rather well. Provided employment and distraction, at least."

"I don't know, kupo," Isaac said honestly. "I don't think there _are _many moogle organizations or societies. The mages tend to join all the normal mage guilds, kupo, and, well, the rest of us never really got any formal training. Moogles do what they need to survive."

"Hmm," Jacqueline said thoughtfully. "That's pretty depressing, to be honest."

"I don't think so, kupo," Isaac replied. "We don't know if we're the best or the worst at what we do. We just do it, and we only get better when we need to or we enjoy it, kupo. That way, we'll never stop getting better, because there is no 'king of the hill'."

They sat quietly for a moment, feeling the cool air and the soft, caressing light of the moon. Perhaps it had something to do with how tired he was, or the fact that rangers tended to feel more protected in the darkness, but Isaac found he felt extremely at peace there for a moment. Even in the real world, Jacqueline was the one of his friends with whom Isaac didn't spend as much time with. Probably because she spent most of her time with Ben, or that Jacqueline had always been more interested in sports and the like and Isaac was more of a trades junky. Still, it was nice getting to talk to her alone every now and again.

"You know, I feel a bit of a bugger. You seem so interested in moogle culture, kupo, and I know absolutely nothing about vieras."

"Oh really? Haven't met many vieras so far?"

"No. Out of the three vieras I've really spent any time with, one tried to kill me, kupo, and another was too busy conversing with the gods and such to pay much attention to me."

"Sounds interesting," Jacqueline said. "Well, we of course live in Muscadet, for the most part. It's a beautiful city, you should go there one day. We all tend to be connected to plants for some reason. Unlike you moogles, we're agile with everything but our hands. We're actually pretty frail, when it comes right down to it, so we _have _to be agile to keep out of the way. Most of us use bows or magic, but I never really got the knack for it. I like my rapier."

"But don't _you_ use red magic, kupo?"

"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm very good at it. I just learned it so that I could upgrade to the red mage tournaments. Fencing just wasn't a challenge anymore."

"Are you actually saying that you were too good at it?" Isaac demanded incredulously.

"Yep. But I'm allowed to be vain. I'm hot." She winked at him, and Isaac couldn't help but laugh.

"Ah well, you should be getting some sleep, kupo. You and Ben have all that official shite to do tomorrow."

"_You_ need sleep, too. I don't care if you are a moogle, you need energy. Especially if we're going to be busting Maxwell out of a jagd."

"Alright, I will," Isaac said, jumping off of the roof, back down to the balcony. He looked back up to Jacqueline. "Are you coming?"

"Actually, I was thinking of taking the trap doors that go directly to the rooms. You know, the ones that don't require jumping."

"Ah, kupo," Isaac muttered. "Right."

He walked into his room, and laid down on his bed. However, sleep wouldn't come. He lay there, alone with himself and the thought of seeing Maxwell fighting undead for eternity. It kept him awake long into the night.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Eileen and Isaac were wandering through the winding halls of the Alchemists' Guild the next day. They'd left Ben and Jacqueline off at the Hall of Colour Magic to collect their prize money and deal with all the official things necessary of a winner. Isaac and Eileen, however, had more important work to do at the moment.

"So you said undead, right?"

"Yeah, kupo, lots of undead."

"And you still think that it was a jagd?"

"Yes, definitely. There was that fear there. But it wasn't Dorsa anymore. It was somewhere else, kupo."

"Okay, then, I think I might know where we need to go," Eileen said, then muttered, "Though I think it may be the stupidest place to go in the world."

"Kupopo?"

"Never mind. I'll tell you once I find the book I'm looking for."

The two of them pushed through a set of giant wooden doors which lead to the great library of the Alchemists' Guild. It was a massive room, occupying almost a quarter of the grounds of the Guild. Books from ancient times lined all of the countless tidy shelves, organized meticulously into most any subject one could imagine. Rolling ladders were affixed to each of the towering shelves, and many of the shelves were so big they had balconies halfway up them and second sets of ladders there. The entire building was made of stunning hardwood, from the floors, to the walls, to the support beams which lead up to the massive arching roof.

This roof was well acknowledged as one of the greatest works of art in the modern world. Across it was painted a vista of clouds and sky, dark as the night sky and glittering with stars. In the sky stood the five Totema; Famfrit, Ultima, Addramelech, Exodus, and Mateus. They stood apart from each other, with weapons and armour bristling and magic gleaming about them. Around each of them was painted the history of its respective race, from its creation to its worst perils to its greatest heroes. The entire thing was beautiful beyond words.

Eileen sighed as she walked in, then took a deep breath. "It's been far too long since I was last here," she said, the scent of old books filling her mind. "Let's go, the section we need is probably over here. It should either be here in ancient history, or if not maybe in myths and legends. Though then again, it might be under the geography section. Unless of course somebody's been considering funding or leading an expedition on it, in which case…"

She led Isaac towards a nearby shelf, muttering quietly to herself. Isaac, for his part, found his eyes wandering to, instead of Eileen for once, the great armoured shape of Famfrit on the roof above. He looked nothing like a moogle. He was tall and skinny, aside from his chest area which was broad and strong. His entire form was covered in armour, from the massive greathelm to the iron-plated boots. The only thing vaguely moogle-like about him was the gun he held at his side. It was long and ornate, in a style which reminded Isaac of the old decorated muskets of earth. The only difference was that this gun's barrel was infinitely larger, able to blow entire cities away with a single shot.

As Isaac's eyes flickered around to each of the painting around his patron god's form, a strange recognition flowed through him. He was a moogle, and these stories were a part of his upbringing, forged into his bones and burned into his mind. There was the creation of the moogles: the children of Elda, the fairest of vieran princesses, and the archmage Castor of nu mou lore. Then came the accounts of the new race trying to find its niche in the world amongst the other four. These were a time of great strife and trouble, with very few amongst the other races accepting them. After these came several images of nameless moogles working on machines, forging weapons in smithies and piloting airships; the main source of employment and skills for mooles. Nearer to the of the images there was a very grand portrait of a single moogle. This one was a mog knight, and a find one at that. He wore no armour at all, simply a ripped and tattered tunic with simple breeches. In his right hand he held a beautiful blade which even in the painting radiated power and antiquity. Behind his back, bound to him by a pair of belts, were visible the hilts and small bits of the edge of two other blades; one blue with a silver hilt, the other red with a gold hilt. Isaac's mind instantly identified this magnificent young moogle as Lini, the original Mog Knight, partner of the hero Gaol, final bearer of the legendary blades the Avuir Red and the Avuir Blue, and leader of the Aisen Thirteen.

"Isaac?" Eileen asked suddenly, shocking the moogle out of his awe.

"Kupopo?"

"I've found a few books that should be enough for us." Isaac noticed that she had several old and tattered tomes under her arm. "Come on, over to that desk over there."

They started walking, and as they went Eileen said to him, "You saw the ceiling, did you?"

"Yeah," Isaac responded, not knowing what else to say.

"What do you think?"

"It's incredibly beautiful, kupo."

"Yes, it is," Eileen nodded, and went silent for a short while. Then, ever so hesitantly, she asked him, "When you looked up there, did you, uh, did you _remember _things?"

"Yes, kupo, I did."

"Hmm." She looked pensive for a moment. "All of the legends of your race, right?"

"Yes, kupo. But, it was strange. There were certain parts that I remembered better than others. As though they were more important, kupo."

"I know what you mean," she said putting the heavy tomes down onto the desk. "Pick one and look up the Aerial Battle of Helje, or the Banishing of Helje."

Isaac picked up one of the books and paged to the index, being careful not to crack any of the old pages. He skimmed along it, searching.

"When I first looked up there," Eileen said quietly, "I remembered with amazing detail the legend of Ultima. Of the old nu mou who went out to search for the gods so that he could convince them to take pity on his people. I told you a bit about it once, the one named Nu Mou. Did you remember that one?"

"I think the moogles have one like it, kupo," Isaac said, wracking his memory for something that hadn't been there five minutes before, but which was now hiding somewhere he couldn't find. "But I don't remember it too well. I'd still like to hear the whole legend."

"Well, there were the five champions, one from each of the races. This was, of course, long before the races even had names. It was a time of great unrest. Crops weren't growing, plague was rampant, drought and thunderstorms lasted in the same places for weeks, never going where they were needed, the monsters ran unchecked across the land, and what warriors there were were too busy raiding other cities for their food stores to defend their homes.

"However, five champions, one from each race, went forth to speak to the gods and demand that they end their assault. It was a perilous journey. They spent years searching through the deepest caverns beneath the earth and the greatest chains of mountains. On they went, without rest, until one day they found it. The Path to Eternity. It was a path of darkness and constant danger. The Five passed through it, and when they came out the other side, exhausted and spent, they saw the gods. All of them. The gods asked them, 'Why have you come, mortals?'

"Then Nu Mou, the representative of our race on the team, spoke, and told them of the plight of their peoples. He spoke of the hunger, the youth growing old before their time, the babies crying in the night for lost parents, and the constant fear. The other four, following his lead, added their own tales of woe to his own; of the ancient practices and customs of the bangaa tribes dying with their people; of the vieras too tired to dance or sing as they used to; of moogle fingers too brittle to work on the machines they so loved; and of humans having to abandon homelands passed down from parents and grandparents to follow the remainders of the water in the land."

Eileen paused for a moment to write something down on a piece of paper. "Have you found anything yet?"

"No, kupo, not yet." Isaac checked the index again, and shook his head. "I think that the section on it was ripped out or something, kupo." He grabbed a different book, then asked her, "So what happened next?"

"Well, the gods were so moved by their speech, that they decided to deliberate over it for a time. In the end, the gods came back to them and agreed to return the world to its former natural glory, and even went further to promise one hundred years of unordinary bounty to make up for the strife. Then they asked the five a difficult question. Would they take up the responsibilities for their races, of being representatives of the separate races in the council of the gods? They would have to give up their old forms, and even their old names and minds, and become the gathered incarnation of the desire of every member of their race. Though it was a terribly difficult decision, they all finally agreed. Once all five had decided, they each instantly ceased to exist, and in their places were the Totema. Though they no longer existed in the normal definition of the word, their old souls were bound to each of the five crystals; the world threads. If ever any of the races needed the strength of their Totema, all they would have to do is destroy the crystal. If a time ever came when all five crystals were shattered, the world would be considered beyond repair, and would cease to exist. It was one, last failsafe mechanism. Since then, nobody has ever dared attack the crystals, out of fear from both being responsible for the end of the world, and for fear of having to do battle with the Totema themselves who guard the crystals."

They were quiet for a long time after that, simply scanning through their respective books. Finally, Eileen finished her reading and scribbling, and said, "Alright, this book seems to have lots of info about the Aerial Battle of Helje, but its history doesn't go forward far enough to cover the Banishing of Helje. You have anything?"

"Yes," Isaac said, "That's where this one starts, but there's lots about it. Too much to read here, at least, kupo."

"Okay, we can take it with us. I'm just going to return these books." With that, she got up and picked up the books, heading for the shelves. Isaac began gathering up the papers Eileen had been using and organizing them. He was just finishing when he glanced up at the door and saw somebody standing there.

"Aw crud," Isaac muttered, watching Bartholemue Greatspell looking about him. The alchemists' eyes finally settled on Isaac, and even from across the room, Isaac saw the flicker of recognition. Bartholemue began walking towards Isaac, and the moogle quickly looked over at the shelf Eileen had headed over to. She hadn't even begun climbing the ladder to replace the first book. Great. He really didn't want to have to talk to this person alone.

Greatspell finally made it over to Isaac's side. "Hello, there. You were the one with Eileen yesterday, am I right?"

"Yes, that was me, kupo."

"It was… Isaac! Yes, that was it! It is an honor to meet you face to face. By all reports, you are quite the gunner."

"I'm alright, I guess, kupo. There are many others who are far better than I am."

"Well, very few rangers could say that they have tangled with Cheney and survived to tell the tale. I am truly impressed. Oh yes, and thank you for helping young Eileen. It would have been quite a shame to lose her."

Isaac listened carefully to his words, trying to find any hint of sarcasm or spite. Much to his own surprise, he couldn't find it. "You're welcome, kupo, though you don't really need to thank me. She's my friend; it's my job to help her when she gets into trouble."

"It is very good to know that there are still people with such morals left in the world. I just dropped by because I got word that Eileen was using the library. Is she here?"

"Yes, she should be right back, kupo. We were just doing some research for a possible future journey."

"Oh, is that so? Where were you thinking of going?"

"In all honesty?" Isaac said. "I've never been the brains of our little group. I have no idea where we're going, kupo."

Bartholemue laughed. "Yes, well, I actually wanted to drop off Eileen's new hat. Do you know if she brought her old one with her?"

"Yes, kupo, she did."

"Excellent. Then we can get all the formalities done right here."

"There isn't some sort of presentation?"

"No, aside from the vote, there is no real public recognition of the advancement from Apprentice to Master. The only times we celebrate are for the passing of Master to Third Eye and the election of a new Greatspell, and those aren't really very large celebrations, either."

"Ah."

They were quiet for a long while after that, simply waiting for Eileen to come back. At length, Bartholemue said, ever so quietly, "She truly is an amazingly skilled and intelligent Alchemist, you know."

"Sorry, kupo?" Isaac said, shocked.

"I'm not really the horrible person I always act like in front of the rest of the alchemists. I really am on Eileen's side. She's one of the greatest alchemists I've ever seen, especially at so young an age. I hope she replaces me one day."

"I'm sorry, kupo, but I don't think I follow."

"I _want _Eileen to succeed. That's why I act like such an antagonistic monster, to give her a bit of extra motivation. That's also why she hasn't been thrown out of the guild so far. I'm on the side of all the new, young alchemists, with their energy and vision. The problem is that the majority of the current alchemist population is so set in their old ways that they can't see they're becoming out of date. I find it pathetic and weak. But there's nothing I can do about it. If I were to propose something radical and new, I'd be thrown out of my position, and somebody a thousand times worse than me would be elected. I'm doing everything I can to support all these young people, but I have to keep myself protected and act like I agree with those decrepit old creatures. It grates on me all the time, but I do it anyway, for the greater good." He was quiet after this. Isaac sat there, feeling very uncomfortable after such an emotional admission. Greatspell finally said, "I don't know why I just told you that. I guess because you're one of the few people I've met in a long time whom I haven't _had _to fool. Just, please tell nothing to Eileen or Quin, or anybody else."

"Uh, I promise, kupo," Isaac said, finding himself at a loss for words.

"Thank you. Ah, here comes young Mindclear. Excuse me for a moment, I have to give her her hat." With that, Bartholemue got up and walked over to Eileen.

Isaac sat there for a moment, mulling this strange incident over in his head. What had just happened? Isaac grabbed his head and held it in his hands. This world was far too confusing already, and adding memories that weren't his own and politics (which he hadn't been good at in the small town of St. Ivalice, let alone the great continent of Ivalice) wasn't helping matters. So, he resolved to just ignore it and store it all away in his brain.

He waited for Eileen to come over, not wearing a hat. "He's such a stuck-up little prick!" she muttered.

"How do you mean?"

"He gave me this little speech about how important it was for all of us to remember our appointed places and honour our elders. It's just plain stupid!"

"Yeah, it is," Isaac agreed. "So, how's your new hat look, kupo?"

At this, Eileen smirked, saying, "I was hoping you'd ask." She pulled out a bundle of cloth from under her arm and unwrapped it, pulling the hat out of it reverently. Slowly, she placed it on her head, and her eyes shone as it touched the fur. The black fabric on the eye stood out starkly from her extremely light grey fur, almost shining in its darkness. The fabric used in the making of the hat was finer than that of her last hat, and there were a few tiny gems woven into eye's design. Each one glowed for a moment when she put it on, then dimmed down a bit. It looked perfect on her, and Isaac knew that it would make it all the harder to conceal his yearning after her from Jacqueline.

"How do I look?"

"Amazing," Isaac breathed softly.

"Thanks. Either way, we should get going. I've got some reading to do for tonight."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Alright, I know where we need to go now," Eileen said to them later that night.

"Great, when do we leave?" Ben asked. He was wearing casual clothes, and had no weapons on him. It was the most relaxed Isaac had seen him since St. Ivalice had changed.

"Well… uh… it's not going to be that easy. I think he's in Jagd Helje." She paused for a moment, apparently hoping that this would have some sort of effect on them. When she saw their blank expressions, she snapped, "You mean _none of you _have heard of _Helje_?"

"Do you actually want the true answer to that?" Jacqueline asked. "Because I can promise that you won't like it."

Eileen sighed in annoyance, then took a deep breath. "In the ancient times, before the Aisen Thirteen, even, there was a great airship battle. This battle was the only open air war ever to take place in Ivalice's history. Thousands died, all over this one prosperous city of Helje. The city was destroyed during the battle, from both the stray spells and the falling debris. Anyways, after the battle, because of all the magic discharged throughout the battle, there was a residual aura, and, uh… strange… things started happening."

"Describe strange, kupo."

"Well, there was a bit of an issue with a never-ending generation of undead."

"Ah."

"There was never a huge problem. Every now and again a few dozen zombies would wander out and have to be dealt with. Eventually, however, there got to be a massive build-up of zombies, and even a few Vampire Lords, so the Aisen Thirteen, headed by Lini the Mog Knight, got together the greatest mages of the time, and used their magic to sink the city into the earth. In its place is now a deserted plane. However, there are rumours that the city still exists, and that it is accessible in the many caverns beneath the earth, if you know the way, and if you have the key."

There was silence to this for a good minute or two. Finally, Ben said, "So, uh, I'm assuming you've found somebody's who's got the key?"

"After a fashion…"

"What's wrong with this person?" Isaac demanded.

"We _might _have to bust him out of prison to get his help."

"Out of _prison_?" Ben yelled. "I don't know if the rest of you have been to Sprohm, but let me tell you, the prison is not something you just 'break into'! To do that, you'd either need an army, or an excessively detailed plan with somebody who's got inside information!"

"Well…"

"You found somebody?" Jacqueline asked. Isaac noticed she was wearing a small smile which was growing wider as Eileen's plan became more and more impossible.

"Ezel."

They were quiet again for a long time. Then Isaac quietly muttered, "Uh, okay, just let me get this straight, kupo. We're breaking into the Sprohm prison, one of the best guarded areas in the world, with only five people, so that we can break out a prisoner who has a legendary key. This key will unlock a hidden key-hole somewhere beneath the earth, though we're not sure where. That door will lead us into a haunted, literal ghost-town which was destroyed hundreds of years ago. Once there, we need to find our way to a coliseum which will be under equally heavy protection, and break out one gladiator, all without losing one single person, then escape. Is that all, kupo?"

"Uh, give or take a little space for possible side-quests, yeah, that's about it."

"Well then," Jacqueline said, standing up with a broad smile on her face. "What are we waiting for? This sounds like it's going to be the most fun I've had since I got here."


	30. Old Friends

This chapter is dedicated to Great Big Sea, the greatest band on the face of the earth. They helped me get through these couple weeks.

This chapter is anti-dedicated to Margaret Atwood's poetry. Writing essays on Margaret Atwood's poetry sucks. I'm sorry Margaret Atwood, I love your essays, your books and your short stories, but I hate your poems. Ah well, enjoy this chapter.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"So this is the plan," Ezel told them as they gathered around his stained map. "The optimal point of this little operation is for the five of us to remain anonymous. We only just managed to get our names cleared, and I'd rather keep it that way, if you don't mind. We're only going to have one shot, and it's going to demand everything every one of us has."

"Well don't put much pressure on us."

"Aw, don't worry, I'm not. So, first up, Isaac, you need to do a bit of sniping for us. We'll get you up on top of this temple beforehand; it should give you relatively good view once night has fallen. I really hope you've been practising with that Longbarrel I gave you—"

"Only every waking moment. And a few of his sleeping ones."

"—because you're going to be making shots at three targets about a hundred metres away in the dark. Stopshots. As fast as possible. They have to hit hard and fast, because every second counts. We're going to need it so that Eileen will have enough time to blow this…" he pointed to a small notch on one of the walls, "portcullis."

"Don't you love the conveniently placed weakness in the wall?"

"After that Ben and Jacqueline slip in through the hole. Unfortunately the two of you won't be able to use that little shred of time to claw obscenely at each other; you'll be too busy actually _doing_ something for a change."

"It hurts me when you say things like that, Ezel."

"I wouldn't have to if you'd stop interrupting me, Ben. Now, the two of you will have to move _fast_, alright? You've got to go through these three passages without being seen, at all. Jacqueline, please tell me you know the spell for sleep?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. There'll be at least two guards here. Use it on them. Ben, you have to pick the lock on _this _door," he gestured at a point on the map. "Don't screw up, or it'll be painful for you."

"What do you mean by 'painful'?"

"Don't ask question you'd rather not know the answer to. After that, you'll have to identify which of the inmates Caesar is. Eileen, I'm assuming you've got some kind of code set up with him?"

"Yeah. Just yell out 'Helje'. He'll reply by saying 'key'."

"Great. That simplifies things a lot. Now, once you've got your little friend there, whatever you do, don't give him a weapon. Never trust anybody who's in prison."

"Didn't _you _break _out_ of prison?" Ben asked. "In fact, isn't that how I met you?"

"Yes, but there's one fundamental difference."

"And what would that be?"

"I'm Ezel."

"Oh yeah."

"Anyway, you guys get to the front entrance and wait there. I'd suggest using the smouldering crater in the wall, but I think people will have noticed it by then and gone to investigate it. Isaac, Eileen and I will go to the main entrance and deal with anybody who's in our way as quickly as possible. You come out, we hop into the wagon, and we beat a hasty retreat."

"Probably into the sunset," Ben muttered.

"We can only hope that we'll be so lucky. Either way, I'm hoping that you guys are all ready to go?"

"Yep," Jacqueline said, gesturing with her shoulder towards the wagon waiting outside. "We figured you'd be wanting to go pretty quick."

"Okay, let's get going."

With that, Ben and Ezel jumped up into the back of the heavy-laden wagon, Jacqueline climbed on top of the small riding chocobo they'd purchased, and Isaac and Eileen crawled up to the front of the wagon to lead their packchocobo. Isaac, as always, had a loaded gun beside him, and Eileen's heavy mace was lying at her side in case she needed it. With that, they rode out of the rear gates of Cadoan.

The four friends had gone to speak with Ezel two days after they'd laid down their plans for travel, and he'd been only too happy to oblige. Thus it was that on the morning two days later, they all met at Ezel's current abode, and left the city by the more secretive rear entrance.

Ben and Ezel had opted to stay in the back simply to avoid any trouble. While Ben's name had been cleared, and Ezel had technically been granted amnesty for his participation in the famed Colour Tournament, very few people had actually forgiven either of them. Many, the guards in particular, were still secretly hoping for a chance to arrest the unofficially trained Blue mage and rogue alchemist. Both of them were ridiculously talented, and in the eyes of the countless academics in the city, they had succeeded in their power in an unusual, even unfair manner. Obviously, this bred enough jealousy to fill several Olympic-sized swimming pools (not that the residents of Cadoan _knew_ what an Olympic-sized swimming pool was). Both Ben and Ezel had, of course, noticed the dark glances cast their ways and heard the chatter.

Frankly, they loved it, and in fact were in the process of conversing on how they could possibly spur the population of Cadoan to new heights of hate.

Either way, Isaac and Eileen had no idea of knowing this as they led the chocobo along ahead of them. Isaac was busy fiddling with some small machinery pieces he'd found out and around in the city, and Eileen's eyes were half closed as she simultaneously scanned the road ahead and controlled her breathing to the rhythm of the pulse of her magic, meditating. Both were simply using their own methods to calm their minds in advance of the battle they'd be facing within a week's time.

They journeyed onward on the road towards Sprohm, far to the South. The journey would take them four days to complete, and the path wasn't easy. After it left the deserts around Cadoan, it entered one of the hardy mountain ranges which ringed it. Their path would then take them weaving about through many mountains, including the legendary Roda Volcano, before sloping down into a new desert. Built defensively in the gorge of two of the mountains which opened out into the desert lay Sprohm. During their planning stages, Ben had described it as, "Minas Tirith from Lord of the Rings, except it isn't white and instead of building up, they built outwards."

Isaac was excited to visit another of the great cities of Ivalice. Whenever they were alone and began speaking of their respective adventures on _the Torrent_ and in the Thieves' Guild, they would often fall to speaking about the cities they'd visited. Sprohm fascinated Isaac, as it seemed as though it were quite the opposite of Baguba. His home port was a relatively new city, perhaps a hundred years old or so, whereas Sprohm was one of the original cities in the history of Ivalice. Also, there was the architecture. Baguba was nothing but giant towers which reached up to the skies. In all honesty, as far as area was, Baguba was tiny. But the sheer height of the city was baffling. The entire infrastructure and architecture was based upon airship travel. Sprohm, however, was built by a culture nowhere near as adept at using magic, and in a location where tall buildings were a downfall. Thus, it was more flat, with very few buildings being taller than two stories. Also, there was the bangaa culture which was intriguing him. He'd only ever seen bangaas in combat; filled with rage and brute strength, but also a certain marshal finesse and honour. It would be interesting to see them in a more familiar lifestyle.

"Ah," Eileen said next to him. He jumped at the sudden voice. "Even if that meditation does clear me up a bit, it gives me a good number of cramps."

Isaac glanced up at the sun, and realised that an hour must have already passed. "Wow…"

"What?"

"Nothing, kupo. I just didn't realise how much time had gone by already."

"Heh, feel thankful," she muttered, "the next four days are going to be boring. I've made this trek before, and trust me, after a while, mountains get to be pretty boring."

"Any suggestions on how to make it go faster?"

"Anything you feel like talking about?"

"I'm rather obsessed with you and I'd like to kiss you so badly right now."

This was what Isaac wanted most dearly to say. Of course, as he was quite a bit of a wimp (and this story is nowhere near far enough into its course), he didn't. Instead, after grasping for several seconds at different ideas on how to say this, he instead opted for,

"What do you think will happen if Marche pulls off the destruction of the world, kupo?"

"Heh, who knows?" she snapped. "Things might go back to the way they were. We all might die. The universe might start over again. We might get sent to a new plane of existence, or whatever the long complicated words for it are. In all honesty, I don't care."

"Oh," Isaac said, quite surprised at her response. "You sound like you've been thinking about this a lot, kupo."

"I've been trying to _not _think about it. I'm really starting to get annoyed by all the talk about the end."

"How do you mean? We haven't even mentioned it for a few months."

Eileen was quiet for a second as she stared forward at the trail. Finally, she muttered, "The one thing that excited me most about this 'new world' is that I wouldn't have to hear or think about how the entire freaking world is going to end and fall down around me. Then, I'm here for what, not even a year? Already, there's somebody who's consciously trying to end it. Why can't we get it right for once? I mean, why is it that even when we find paradise, it can't last? We're just meant to run around and around in circles until we're all dead from using up everything! It just annoys me."

"Sorry," Isaac said, after enduring about another minute of silence. "I didn't know that…"

"Oh please shut up," she responded, not unkindly. "I don't need somebody to say sorry. I need somebody who'll let me vent and then just not make me think about it any longer."

"Well, if you need to vent," Isaac said, sweeping his arms out wide with a grin on his face, "go ahead, kupo. You always were a bit of a windbag, so I've gotten used to it."

"Shut your face," she said, grinning back and giving him a weak push.

"I will, kupo, like I said, vent all you want. You've been telling me that I haven't been sleeping much lately. Maybe listening to you talk will force me to doze off."

"I am seriously contemplating punching you in that grinning face right now."

"Whatever works for you, kupo."

At that moment, Jacqueline came into view, riding back to them on her small chocobo. A small cloud of dust came up as she stopped next to them, expertly reigning in the giant bird.

"Just figured I should tell you," she said casually, "there's a pretty hefty population of mountain cats up ahead, and they're looking pretty hungry."

Isaac glanced over at Eileen. "Meh, I guess this won't be too boring after all, kupo."

"You never know," she grinned, reaching into her cloak and pulling out a judgepoint.

He leaned his gun on his right shoulder, then smirked at Jacqueline. "Let's do this."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

When the five of them rode into Sprohm five days later, they were in pain, covered in dust, and totally exhausted. They had had to fight almost the entire way there, with monsters attacking them about once every hour. Isaac had a piece of bandaging wrapped around his left hand from where an antlion's pincers had scratched him before a battle was properly begun, and his bandoliers were nearly empty. The scratch was the reason for the extra day of journeying, for he'd contracted a bit of spider venom from the bite, and thus they'd had to wait a day for him to get back his strength. Jacqueline's splendid red cloak had turned pale and dusty from all of the times she had had to dive out of the way of an attack. Ben, as he climbed down from the wagon, was favouring his left leg, after having landed quite heavily on the right while jumping from a small mountain precipice onto a young wyrmling's back. Ezel and Eileen were both fine for the most part, aside from the fatigue they were enduring from the long journey.

As they saddled in at the stable of a nice little pub, Ben said quite resolutely, "Well, if you'll all excuse my language, that was one of the shittiest little trips I've ever taken."

"'Greed," muttered Jacqueline, throwing her pointed red hat into the back of the wagon. "Next time, let's either join a caravan or actually bring all the battle gear."

Tethering the packchocobo's reigns to a post, Isaac glanced over at Eileen and raised his eyebrows. "I don't want to tell you this—"

"Please, do _not_ say a single word about how this would never have happened if I hadn't said it would be boring."

"Oh, good, kupo," he grinned. "I _didn't _want to tell you."

"You said it would be a boring ride?" Ezel asked.

"After a fashion…"

"Yay! Now I can blame it on somebody!"

She looked over at Isaac with an, "Oh look what you've started," look, and promptly went back to work getting their gear out of the back of the wagon.

All in all, it was a very hungry quintet that sat down at the table after dark that evening. They ordered a very large dinner, and then set about discussing the raid on the prison. It didn't take long until a debate broke out about whether or not they should make their attack the following night or wait another day.

"Thing is, we're all tired," Jacqueline was saying. "We could all use some time to get a bit of magical energy back and restock on our supplies. It'd be good to give Isaac's hand another day to heal up, too."

"I understand that, but we need as much of an element of surprise as we can get," Ezel argued. "It probably won't take too long for word to circulate that I'm here, and to be fair, the four of you are pretty well-known at this point as well."

"What use's surprise when one of our members can't fight and another is moving at half speed?"

"I'm just saying; I know that all of you want to keep on the right side of the law, for a while at least. Jacqueline, Ben and Eileen, the three of you probably aren't too bad off right now. Isaac, you should be alright too, so long as no members of the crew of _the Flame _are in the city at the moment. Still, having the four of you around for two days, and then suddenly disappear just after a prisoner is broken out by a bunch of people matching your descriptions? Doesn't sound too good."

"Isaac, Ben," Jacqueline said, looking over at the two wounded members of their party. "What do you two think?"

"I'm fine for sniping, I guess, kupo," Isaac said slowly. "It'll take me a while to climb up and down the building, though, and if I get attacked straight on I'll be useless."

"My leg seems pretty good. It's just a bit bruised up. I think I'll be fine again by tomorrow."

"Either way, we still have one more problem," Eileen interrupted. "Ezel, you don't have a clear plan for escaping. This entire thing could just all go to hell if we don't manage to get away."

"I'm working on it," the nu mou muttered. "This whole planning thing isn't as easy as you might think."

Isaac sighed, annoyed at all the bickering. He really did hate planning. People always got so touchy as soon as something had to be planned. He went to take a sip at his mug, when he found it was empty. Shaking his head, he stood up, and, after asking everybody else whether they wanted more to drink, he headed over to the bar. The pubmaster was an elderly bangaa, with countless wrinkles on his scaly face. He ordered his drink, and took a quick look about the bar while he waited. As always seemed with these pubs, it was crowded. Most, if not all, of the bar-crawlers were big and burly fellows, with muscles bulging through clothing and armour. Many of the bangaa wore their preferred full-head helmets, with jaws left open and small slits for eyes. From the general body language of the patrons, he could tell that a fight was bound to break out at some point this evening. Everybody was either sizing up or being sized up. He noticed that most of those who glanced over at the table where his friends were gathered wore expressions of curiosity more than apprehension. Apparently mages weren't too common in these parts.

"Here's your drink, sir."

"Thank you, kupo."

Isaac took the drink, and turned around, running straight into another moogle who was approaching the bar. They both let out a surprised, "Kupo!" as they fell over and Isaac spilt his drink.

The other moogle was wearing a brown cloak which covered his entire body, including his face. He instantly sprung to his feet and grabbed Isaac's hand, helping him up. "Oh, I'm so sorry, kupo. Here, let me get you another drink."

"Don't worry, kupo, nothing's wrong… what?"

Although he couldn't see the moogle's face, Isaac could tell that he was staring at him. There was a moment of silence, during which the gunner felt very uncomfortable and awkward.

Finally, the moogle said, "Isaac?"

Perhaps it was something in the voice, but Isaac instantly stopped and stared as well. "Foobar?"

The next thing he knew, Isaac felt himself pulled into a fierce bear-hug, one which he was returning just as hard.

"I thought you were dead!"

"Are you kidding? I never die, kupo!"

"I watched you fall over a hundred metres off the edge of my airship in a storm, kupo!"

"I was so afraid that you got caught!"

"No way, we're way too good to be caught by a few palace lackies, kupo!"

"But what have you been doing? Where are you hiding? Where's everybody else?"

"Right, the others! Follow me," Foobar ordered, and melted back into the crowd of the pub again.

Isaac followed close behind, dodging around the tree-trunk legs all around them. Foobar led him to the back of the pub, before stopping suddenly, and turning back to him said, "You know what, kupo? There is no way we can pass up an opportunity like this."

A crocodile smile spread across Isaac's face as Foobar passed him his cloak. Isaac put it on tightly, and Foobar told him, "Watch where I go. Give me a few seconds before you walk over."

"They'll never forgive us for this, kupo."

"Oh, I know."

Isaac couldn't help but laugh as the pearly white moogle walked away, and actually had to shove his fist into his mouth and bend over so that nobody would hear him. He watched as Foobar walked over to a table where four others were waiting. Seeing them, Isaac instantly identified each one as Clay, Eugene, Tifone and Rolf. He noticed that Clay had apparently given his fur a wash to make it more white, and dyed the headfur black. Eugene had a hard, black walking stick next to him. Tifone's hair was pulled back into an elaborate set of braids, countless times more complex than her previously preferred plain straight hair. Rolf's head was shaved completely bald, and he definitely had a bit of unshaven fuzz on his cheeks. Isaac's heart leapt at the sight of them, each wearing inconspicuous clothing with a cloak folded next to them should they need it. He had had no idea how much he missed them until this moment, standing no more than ten metres away from them. He was aching to see his old friends.

After giving Foobar enough time to sit down and get comfortable, Isaac walked purposefully forward, stride by measured stride. Foobar's eyes kept wandering over to look at him, but none of the others noticed.

Grinning so wide he thought the top half of his head would fall off, he slid his blade out of its sheath with his right hand and, reaching the table, touched it to Foobar's neck.

Silence fell instantly across the five of them as Foobar put on a mock-surprised expression and stared down the blade at Isaac.

"Alright," Isaac said curtly, masking his voice and dropping it a decimal. "Let's do this peacefully, kupo. There's no need to ruin these fine people's night at the bar."

Rolf, his voice still maintaining its excessively casual and bored sound, if a bit strained, said, "I don't know what you could be talking about. However, I suggest that you remove your weapon from my friend's neck."

"You're not fooling me, captain Rolf Tink of _the Torrent_," Isaac said, only just managing to keep himself from bursting out laughing. "There's a price over your head, and I intend to receive it, kupo."

Eugene opened his mouth to speak, but Rolf reached over and touched his hand, giving him a look. "Fine. May we at least know the name of our captor?"

"Of course, kupo. You may have heard of me," Isaac said, his voice jumping somewhat as it became more and more difficult to keep from laughing. He reached up with his bandaged hand and pulled back the hood. "I'm known as Isaac, the Far-Falling."

There was a good minute of plain silence as the other four stared at him. Then Isaac and Foobar erupted into laughter, leaning on each other for support. Neither of them were in the least bit surprised when, a moment later, Clay jumped at them and delivered a quick punch in the face to both of them. He, too, however, was laughing, and began asking Isaac questions in a torrent that the young moogle had no way of keeping up with. Eugene still wore an extremely stunned expression which looked hilarious splayed across his normally calm and comprehending nu mou features. Tifone had fallen back into her street, laughing in relief. Rolf simply sat there, passive as ever, though Isaac did notice the relieved sigh he slowly let out, and his hand slipping away from the hilt of his blade.

Finally, when they were all done dealing with their surprise, Isaac sat down at the table and answered all of their questions. Well, _almost _all of them. There were some, like, "How did you survive that fall?" which he couldn't answer. He explained the adventures he'd had with Ben and Eileen, and their insane plan which nearly went wrong who knows how many times to meet up with Jacqueline.

As soon as he was finished, he quickly demanded before they could ask any more questions, "Alright, kupo! Just tell me this: where have you been hiding."

"Well," Rolf began, "after you went over the edge, we managed to make it to Barda by noon. We took her down there, and paid for repairs. Of course, the palace was looking for us, so as soon as the ship was finished, we bough supplies and left. I was on the mend at that point, so we figured we might as well just go and not risk it. After that, we stopped at a… uh," he cleared his throat, "slightly less _legal _port and repainted the ship. We changed her name to _the Fallen Star _and came up with new identities for each of us, and well…" he shrugged. "We just kept working the way we were."

Isaac blinked. "That's it?"

"Yes," Eugene muttered, sipping tentatively at a hot mug of some sort of tea. "It turned out to be far less dramatic than we'd anticipated."

"And why do you have a cane, kupo?"

"Ah, this?" the nu mou asked, picking it up. He held it out for Isaac to grab. "Look familiar? It's my old staff. I just painted it black, and I use it for a cane."

"But why?"

"Nobody ever suspects the cripple," he said, raising his eyebrows in a comical manner.

"What are you guys doing here, though?"

"Got a job," Tifone answered. "And you?"

"Me and my friends are kind of doing a job, too, kupo…"

"What kind of a job?"

"Well, it's sort of, uh…"

"Is this the legal kind of mission, Isaac?" Tifone asked, a smirk playing at her lips.

"Not quite, kupo. We're busting a convicted felon out of prison."

Rolf chuckled. "Oh my, Isaac. And who are you pulling this amazing heist off with?"

"Actually, I'm doing it with a bunch of my old friends, kupo. In fact, they're right over—"

If Isaac had been able to simply finish that sentence, so much pain and embarrassment would have been avoided. Unfortunately, at that moment, Ben and Jacqueline stepped over with their swords drawn. It wasn't until Isaac noticed them that he thought about the fact that he probably should have mentioned to his friends that he hadn't been kidnapped, and that he was in fact with these people of his own free will. Maybe the ten of them could have spent the night trading stories of their adventures and the like.

It actually turned out to go quite a bit worse.

On instinct it seemed, at the sound of scraping steel, Rolf was on his feet with his blade in his hand. His weapon parried both of Ben's sabres, and then he disengaged and spun quickly so that his blade hit Jacqueline's rapier. Then, he stepped in between the two of them, and swung his blade all about himself, spinning as he went. Ben spun out of the way, and Jacqueline stepped forward quickly, ducking as she went.

Then Foobar and Clay stood up, jumping towards Ben like twins streaks of white lightning. Clay came up short and drew his gun, taking a shot and then dropping to his hands and knees. Ben ducked under the hit as Foobar came up behind Clay, and, drawing his blade with one hand, leapfrogged over the gunner. He took his blade in both hands as he went, preparing to bring it down on Ben's head. Eileen, however, seemed to step in out of nowhere, emerging from the shadows of the crowd which had instantly gathered about them. She raised her hand to point at Foobar's airborne form, and yelled, "_Wasser!_" A sphere of speeding water flew forward and smashed into Foobar's face, knocking him backwards.

As Jacqueline rushed forward, she noticed another viera approaching her, wearing an excessively tight green and brown gown. She had a slightly bent rapier in her hand, and a certain look in her eye. Yes, she recognized that look. The look of an experienced fencer sizing up an opponent, much like she was doing at the moment. Both of them smirked at once, and then their rapiers met and filled the space between them with metal and noise. The two of them worked their rapiers furiously as they stepped forward and backward as they fought. Three seconds into the battle, Jacqueline pulled off a rapid, split-second attack, slapping Tifone's rapier three times. The fencer dropped her rapier, then jumped over a slash from her opponent. As she touched down on the ground, she ducked violently under the red mage's stab. She grabbed her fallen weapon, and hit the rapier of her out of the way, then stabbed forward herself. Jacqueline threw her hips backward, getting out of the way.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"_Stop!_" Isaac yelled, but unfortunately nobody heard him over the sound of the weapons clanging and the crowd yelling for blood.

"I don't think they're going to hear you," Eugene said calmly, sipping at his tea.

Glancing over at the mage and sighing, Isaac drew a gun, grabbed a glass mug off of the table, and tossed it into the air. Taking aim, he fired, and shattered the object, making a loud ringing noise.

Everyone instantly stopped what they were doing to stare at him. Clay was clenching Eileen's wrist and holding it away from his face, so that she couldn't let the small tornado gathering around her hand flow out to him. Ben had Rolf's blade held away from himself between the two sabres in a pincer-like motion, while Foobar held a blade to his throat. Jacqueline and Tifone hadn't taken their eyes off of each other, though their rapiers had stopped moving.

Taking in a deep breath, Isaac announced, "Crew of _the Fallen Star_, may I introduce to you my friends Ben, the Blue Ninja, Jacqueline, the Scarlet Rapier, and Eileen Mindclear."

"I'm here too," Ezel muttered, walking up and sitting down beside Eugene. He sighed, then looked over at Eugene's drink. He raised his eyebrows, and Eugene passed him the cup.

"Yeah, kupo," Isaac muttered, "and that's Ezel. Saint… er… Ivalicians, please meet captain Rolf Tink, Eugene Chalier, Tifone, Clay and Foobar, crew of _the Fallen Star_."

"Oh," everyone said this as one, looking at each other in an embarrassed an apologetic manner. The crowd began dispersing as the combatants put their weapons away and helped each other up.

"Don't you think you could have told us this a bit _before _we tried killing each other?" Rolf asked, rubbing his bald scalp and sitting at the table.

"I'll try that next time, kupo," Isaac muttered. "Anyways, as I was saying, we're here to do a job, and…" A light suddenly came to Isaac's eyes as the lightbulb turned on over his head. "And I think that we could actually use your help…"


	31. The Sprohm Prison Operation

A/N: Oi, 'ello. Icey the Fox here. Just to let you know, after great consideration, I've given Ezel some more abilities than the game gives him. Because in the game, he sucks. Big time. That's about it. Though I wanna say more. So, whoever reviews this chapter has to tell me their favourite Power Ranger. See y'all.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Begin when you see the blue light. After that, just get around to the front entrance as fast as you can."

"Alright, kupo. Good luck, everyone."

With that, Isaac ran up the front steps of the temple and pushed open the large double doors quietly. After waiting for a moment to make sure that nobody was coming, the moogle went in and his dark cloak disappeared into the shadows.

As soon as he was gone, the four of them walked away from the temple and headed for the side of the prison they intended to enter from. It was nighttime of the following day, and much to their relief the moon was nowhere to be seen. It would have increased the visibility for their foes. Of course, this would also cause difficulty for Isaac with his sniping, but with the two extra guns he'd borrowed from Clay to prevent the need for him to reload, the young moogle would probably do fine.

Jacqueline had changed her normally bright and loose clothing for the more traditional dress of a vierra. Her clothes were no more than several long pieces of black fabric, wrapped tightly about her body so that they wouldn't hinder her. Ben, beside her, was dressed in much the same way; tight and black. He had brought his old black robes from when he was a ninja along with him, and now he wore them for perhaps the first time in a year. They were filled with many hidden pockets and objects for thievery.

Eileen and Ezel had left their maces with the crew of _the Fallen Star_ and borrowed one of Eugene's staffs. Ezel leaned on it as he walked, with Eileen walking beside him like an old nu mou couple. They each still had on their normal robes, though neither wore their alchemist hats.

"Ugh," Ben muttered. "These robes smell like moth balls."

"What'd you expect after a year just lying in your bag?" Jacqueline asked, shaking her head. "Besides, it ain't too bad."

"That's for sure. At least you don't have to pretend to be _his_ wife!"

"What? You're not honoured?" Ezel asked, grinning. "Personally, I always figured that it would be a position of esteem to be married to me."

"If you think it would be so great, marry yourself next time…" Eileen responded, though she couldn't help stifling a little laugh at his mock-injured expression.

"Your words wound me to the core, Mrs Mindclear. That said…," he tapped his chin, "that would be an interesting proposition. Marrying oneself. Certainly there would be no disagreements, but what if there was a divorce? Where would everything go to…"

"By Ultima, you're annoying."

"I dunno, Eileen," Jacqueline interrupted their conversation, "I haven't known him that long, but I think Mr Ezel's fun to have around."

"Remind me again why it is that I'm going out with you?" Ben demanded.

"It might have seemed like a good idea at the time?" Ezel suggested.

"Could have something to do with how I'm too good for you as it is, an' I'm just letting you talk to me outta pity."

"Or maybe she's just using you to get closer to Max or Isaac," Eileen supplied.

"Or me."

"Yup, it's definitely 'cause I have a mad desire for you, Ezel," Jacqueline agreed, winking at the nu mou.

"It's a curse. Everybody falls for a genius," Ezel shook his head sadly, returning the wink.

They reached the spot they had agreed upon earlier, and the four of them waited there. They had decided that it would probably take no more than ten minutes for Isaac to get to the top of the tower, so Jacqueline counted out the time. They gave him an extra five minutes just in case.

Finally, Ben, who had been pacing back and forth the entire time, said, "I can't wait anymore. Let's just do this."

Jacqueline looked up, then grabbed her rapier and pulled it out of its sheath. She twirled around her right hand a few times, then tossed it into the air and caught it with her left. She finished by driving it into the earth and leaning on it for a moment. Then she said, her breath not even heavy from her quick warm-up, "I'm ready."

Ben nodded, then pulled the pin out of his robes and lifted it up above his head. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, forcing the magic to pulse out of the pin to create a small flare of dark blue light.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Up in the tower, Isaac saw this. Taking a deep breath, he raised his right hand, clasped tightly around his first gun. He could make out the outline of the three guards, all up in the watchtower. As soon as he fired, he'd be unable to stop for anything.

He let out his breath, and pulled the trigger.

Without even stopping to see if he'd hit, he drew the second and fired again, and again with the third.

He paused as he drew his last gun; his Longbarrel. As he watched the window, he prayed silently under his breath. After about six seconds of watching and seeing no movement amongst the guards, he pointed his gun into the air and let his burning excitement flow into it, and pulled the trigger.

One single flaming shot flew high into the air, leaving a brilliant trail across his vision.

Isaac smirked and turned around, getting ready to leave.

"What are _you _doing here?" a voice demanded from behind him. It was low and slightly raspy; definitely a bangaa. Isaac looked up slowly, keeping his his face low enough for it to be hidden. Before him stood a tall, strong-looking templar. He had a huge spear clenched in both hands. He wore the long, blue robes of a templar, and a stunningly beautiful silver shoulder and chest plate which swooped up into a full helm. On the chest was the emblem of the temple.

"Well, go on, ssspeak up!" he ordered.

Isaac's right hand crept slowly towards the hilt of his blade, until it touched the smudged pommel. An idea came to Isaac suddenly, and a smirk which he was sure would befit Thomas quite well crept onto his features.

"I was meant to be here," Isaac muttered, forcing his voice low and repressing the kupo. He slowly kicked off his boots as quietly as he could.

"How ssso?"

"I," he muttered, "am the angel of death."

With that, he jumped up to his feet and drew his blade. He took two steps and then jumped up, landing with one foot on the spearshaft, the other on the templar's chest in order to keep balance. Then, he clenched his foot and toes around the shaft, and lifted the blade up to the templar's neck, holding there.

"If you want to live," he muttered, finding it immensely difficult to hold the kupos in, "you'll let me go."

"Oh, if that'sss all," the bangaa hissed, leaning in close to Isaac's face, "I'll sssay no."

With that, he threw his head forward and smashed it into Isaac's, somehow managing to avoid the blade at his neck. The moogle fell back with a "Kupo!" and rolled over, nearing the end of the tower's ledge. He looked up at the bangaa.

"Sssorry," the bangaa said, letting out a hissing laugh as he walked up. "But I'm a good friend of the angel of death. You sssee," he kicked out a foot, catching Isaac in the ribs and throwing him over the edge. "I do hisss businessssss."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Go!"

Eileen was already pointing with her right hand and raising her left hand, screaming out, "_Auflackern_!"

The wall blew open, and Jacqueline and Ben rushed forward. As they approached the gaping, smoking hole, both of them threw themselves forward into a dive, and hit the ground rolling. They came up, and then they were running through the corridors in absolute silence. They rounded several corners, having memorized them on the map on their way there. It would take only about a minute to reach the first door, where they would meet probably two guards, and then they'd have to use their combat skills.

In a moment, they found them, and they set upon them with fury.

The two guards were generic, wearing plain guard's uniforms and large leather belts with heavy swords stuck through them. As soon as they came into view, Jacqueline drew her rapier and pointed, whispering, "_Schlaff."_ A strange, dark grey light shone from the point of the sword and hit both of the guards. One fell without a sound, but the other blinked his eyes and came to. He quickly drew his sword, but didn't manage to even bring it up to prepare for the strike before Jacqueline closed the distance, kicked the flat of the sword out of the way, and smashed the hilt of her blade into the guard's temple, dropping him with barely any effort.

"Get the lock," she ordered, heading towards the entrance to the passage. "I'll hold th'entrance."

Ben reached into the folds of his dark clothes and withdrew several lock picks. He quickly set to work on it, but found a problem. The moment the pick entered the lock, he could feel magical energy entering him, looking about through his brain, searching…

He gasped and jerked his hand out. Jacqueline looked back at him over her shoulder. "Magical lock," he explained. "It doesn't open based on the key. It's based on who holds the key."

"Dammit," Jacqueline muttered. "Can you still open it?"

"Let me think for a sec," he said, bending down and staring into the hole. After a good solid minute, he looked up and snapped his fingers. "I got it."

"What?"

"I won't use a key," he muttered, and held his fingers up before his eyes. He sighed, and blue light sparked around them, forcing them up into long, red claws.

"Gonna take long?" Jacqueline asked.

He looked over his shoulder at her, and she saw the blue light glowing from his eyes and the slight growl in his voice. "It'll take as long as it takes."

With that, he shoved his claws into the key hole, and began scrabbling around in it for a purchase. Jacqueline turned back to the entrance of the passageway, shuddering. She'd never actually met any blue mages before Ben, though she had heard of the effects that using their wild magics could have on them at times. She was just glad that she hadn't met any of the other blue mages in this kind of situation; if Ben was turned _that _bestial by a spell, she'd hate to see anybody a bit more wild.

Shaking it off, she waited. They couldn't just rely on nobody finding them, and she had to be ready.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Alright, around to the front, then!" Ezel ordered as soon as they were out of sight. "Isaac will probably be waiting for us."

They rushed towards the entrance as fast as their costumes would allow. The alarms hadn't yet begun, though they would be starting soon. It wouldn't take long for somebody to notice the wall, and Isaac's stop shots wouldn't last forever. They had delayed the alarms as long as they could, but now it was up to Jacqueline and Ben to get out of there quickly. As they rounded the corner, they saw that there were several guards around the area, no more than ten.

"Follow my lead if they stop us," Ezel ordered her quietly.

"Uh, there are a lot of them," Eileen muttered as they continued walking.

"I earned that hat," he muttered, and it took Eileen a moment to realize that he was actually speaking of his Third Eye's hat. "And I've picked up a few tricks while being a sought-after celebrity."

"Whatever you say," Eileen said, rolling her eyes and going over her spells in her mind anyways.

"I'll be able to take down all of them for at least a while. Just keep your head down at all times."

"Whatever you say," she repeated, checking clusters where a flare could take out the most guards, despite his words.

"Excussse me," said a military voice to their left.

They both looked up for a moment to see a commander, riding on a chocobo, approaching them. A judge followed him a few steps behind.

"I'm sssorry, ssssir, ma'am," the bangaa said, looking down at them from his chocobo, "but I musssssst asssk you to leave the area immediately."

"Oh, but why?" Ezel asked, wheezing as he finished.

"Well, it iss againsssst rulesss to allow anybody around here. Jussst in cassse there'sss a breakout pl— oh!"

Ezel had continued hacking and coughing, quite convincingly, and had suddenly fallen forward. Eileen grabbed him as he went down, struggling to keep his weight up.

"Let me asssssisssst you," the bangaa said, hopping down off his chocobo. He offered his hand to the bent over Ezel.

"Thank you," the nu mou muttered, reaching up and taking the hand. Eileen barely heard him whisper, "_Abfluss_".

The bangaa all of a sudden got a shocked look, and a red light shone around their two hands. Ezel stood suddenly straight, and pulled his hand away, allowing the bangaa's lifeless body to fall to the ground. With that, he looked over at the rest of the guards, and raised his hands to the air. He took a deep breath, and then his voice roared out over the space, "_Azoth!_"

Wind rushed about him and ruffled his cloak, and a massive orange flash exploded from him, making him seem like a sun after spending a month in complete darkness. Eileen was simply blown away by the massive display of power he was showing in this spell. A howling struck up, and then, something impossible happened.

The sky shattered.

It simply broke into billions upon billions of tiny little fragments and disappeared, leaving a dark, immense void. Eileen found herself staring at the all-encompassing darkness. Her breath came slowly, and her body felt suddenly heavy. Her mind began wandering. How was it possible that…

Ezel suddenly placed a hand on the bare skin of her wrist, and the contact pulled her back into full consciousness. She shook her head and looked over at him.

"Don't stare at it," he instructed. "I still need you for when this is done."

"R-right." She began going through her spells in her head to give herself something else to focus on.

"Hmm…"

"What?" she asked.

"I can't see Isaac. You don't think he got into trouble do you?"

"Meh, he can handle himself."

"I most certainly can, kupo," Isaac muttered from somewhere above them.

Eileen was about to look up, but Ezel grabbed her head and forced it down. Just then, Isaac dropped from the sky and landed next to them.

"Where've you been?" Ezel asked.

"Flying. Some guy kind of forgot I had wings and threw me off of a building. So I figured I'd look for you guys, kupo."

"And you didn't notice the sky?" Eileen demanded.

"Sorry?" Isaac asked, looking up.

"Don't!" Ezel yelled, grabbing the moogle and forcing him to look back down. "Why is it that people always look when I tell you not to!?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

With a feral roar, Ben ripped the lock out of the door. Smirking, he pulled the door open and looked over his shoulder at Jacqueline. "Got it."

"'At's great," Jacqueline said politely. "Next time, you think you could _not _do the whole screaming thing, though?"

"Oh, yeah, right," he muttered sheepishly. "I'll go get him, then."

She nodded, then turned back to the hallway. She smiled slightly as a bangaa stepped around the corner, wearing light clothing and very little armor. On his hands were a pair of gloves, which lengthened down to his elbows, and held three twelve-inch blades on each wrist. A white monk. "Well, guess you're looking for a bit of a challenge, then?"

"Commander of the guard for maximum ssssecurity," he said slowly, sizing her up. "And what, may I asssk, are you doing here?"

"Breaking my pal outta prison."

"Right. In that cassse, I think that I declare an engagement." He said this at the same time as drawing a judgepoint.

"So kind of you to deal with th' formalities."

He began rushing her, but pulled up short when she threw a fistful of flames at his face. In response, he shoved each of his fists into the narrowly spaced walls, and lifted himself up, out of the way of the fire. Then, using his grip on the walls, he launched himself at her from above.

Jacqueline rocked back on her heels, then went head over feet backwards in a summersault. She came up to her feet with her rapier ready, facing this new and officially worthy adversary. "This'll be fun."

"For me," the bangaa shot back, before literally grabbing a fistful of air and throwing it at her. Jacqueline spun and ducked, going under the strike. He, however, was already coming for her. She brought her rapier up in an attempted block, but he caught it in between the two knuckles, and twisted it out of her grasp. Now unarmed, Jacqueline backed up. She raised her hands, and yelled, "_Zwei:_ _Blitzen und Eis!_" Lightning crackled out of her left hand, arcing towards the bangaa, as a giant block of jagged ice flew from the right. The white monk held the two claws crossed out in front of him, and deflected most of the electricity away from himself. Then, he took a step forward and punched the ice block, shattering it.

Jacqueline pulled her hands away, shocked. She very rarely used double spells, and the few times she had neither of them missed, let alone both of them. "That ain't possible…"

"Believe it…" the bangaa snarled, then stepped forward, drawing back his claw.

A ferocious roar ripped through the hallway, and Ben came flying over Jacqueline's head. He landed right in front of her in a crouch, neither hands having yet shed their claws. Without even stopping, he launched himself forward, slipping through his surprised foe's defences, and drove his claws up through the bangaa's neck.

"Ben…" Jacqueline began, shocked.

He grabbed her rapier off the floor and tossed it to her. Then, he paused for a moment to wipe the blood off his bare hands, and looked up at her. "You need to work on dealing with brute force."

"Thanks," she said. "Where's Caesar?"

"Right behind you," Ben said, nodding behind her.

She spun around, and saw that there was a man there, or the hollow shell of a man at least, with his hands bound behind his back. He had no hair, but his eyebrows indicated that if he did it would be grey. Which was strange, seeing as his skin and eyes showed no other significant mark of age. There were scars on much of his body, covering the evident muscles. In another life, he might have been a very strong and powerful young man.

In another life.

"Thank you, for this," he said weakly, his voice thin.

"Don't thank us yet. We still gotta get out."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"How long until the spell wears off, kupo?" Isaac asked, pulling out his gun.

"I'd give us about five minutes," Ezel said anxiously. "I'd rather not be here when it wears off."

"I saw that spell you cast just before that one, kupo," Isaac replied. "What was it?"

"It's just the same as the usual Drain spell that most alchemists know," he replied. "I just improved upon it a bit."

"A bit?"

"Alright, well I was trying to be modest, but it's too hard. I completely took it from the ground up and redid it while I was spending some time underground."

"Underground? As in, in hiding, kupo?"

"Er, yes, I guess you could say I was 'underground' hiding. But I was also literally underground."

"As in beneath the earth?"

"Yes. It was when I was much younger, and still doing lots of adventuring."

"And you were underground for a portion of this, kupo?"

"Hey, I've got quite a bit of history, you know. You guys have a lot to live up to if you ever want to match me."

"Well, I think we're well on our way."

"You really think so?"

"Kupo, I mean, we _have_ taken down an entire thieves' guild, won our way to the top of the colour tournament, and are working on busting a convicted felon out of prison."

Ezel gave him a pitying look, shaking his head and muttering, "Talk to me once you've battled a swarm of dragons single-handedly."

"_KUPOPO_!?"

"Long story."

"If you guys don't mind," Eileen said, walking up from checking on the unconcious foes, "one of us had better get going to tell your crew we'll be leaving soon."

"I'll deal with that," Ezel volunteered. "I've used up most of my energy anyways, and I won't be much use when this turns into a chase."

"Are you kidding, kupo? You can't just leave after saying something like that!"

But Ezel was already gone, walking away at a quick pace.

"I'm assuming that the two of you were having a pretty interesting conversation?"

"I hate him sometimes. I quite simply hate him, kupo."

"Hate aside, we should prepare for them showing up. I doubt that they'll be unattended."

"Alright, kupo," Isaac sighed, twirling his gun in his hand. "You go and get ready, I'll try to help them out a bit."

"Good luck, not that the four of you will need it with you gunning." She turned and left.

Isaac took three long, deep breaths, allowing the sudden fire in his blood to be extinguished. He needed to be calm in order to snipe well. Once he was sure he was good, he looked about the area. It was plain, no cover within shooting distance of the gate. Not very good for shooting. It seemed is only option would be to rely on surprise and speed if it came down to a fight.

Now, the only thing left to do was wait.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Alright, we're almost there," Ben whispered. "It's just around that corner, and we're at the main gates. There's one guard out there, probably. We need to find some way to take him out without him seeing us."

"Could just lightning him."

"The problem with that is we're out of judgepoints, and I don't feel like adding a murder charge to my name. Again.'

"He'd see me before I cast sleep, then 'e'd set off the alarm."

"Uh, there might be a way," Caesar said from behind them. They jumped at his soft voice. He hadn't said a thing since they'd released him.

"What is it?" Ben asked quickly.

"Give me a second," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"Where'd you get those?"

"I stole them from one of the guards," he explained.

"And since when were your hands untied?"

"Oh, I undid them a while ago," the convict said. He smiled at Ben, and the blue mage couldn't help but think that he liked the fact that that face wasn't depressed or sad. Then, Caesar looked down at the ground, and the small puddles gathered there from the bad building quality. He took a deep breath, and then stepped around the corner into the view of the guard.

He instantly stomped his foot into one of the puddles, sending water up. He put his hand to his mouth in a complicated figure, and whispered something. The water flew forward from him and wrapped around the guard's face, going into his mouth. The guard choked, then began turning to look. Caesar quickly threw the handcuffs, and made another motion with his hand. The handcuffs simply dissolved, and the tiny fragments fell into the guard's eyes. He reared his head back in silent agony, and fell to the ground, rubbing at his momentarily blinded eyes.

A small smirk crossed Caesar's face.

"Whoa," Ben muttered.

"I g-guess," he stuttered, "that I didn't l-lose it in there."

"Still need to get out there, though," Jacqueline said, nodding at the door. It had a rough surface, and several arrow slits which could be shut from the inside.

"Alright then, let's get going," Ben replied. He glanced over at Caesar. "I'm assuming from that little display that you won't need our help for it?"

"No."

The three of them ran at the doors as fast as they could. Just before they would have hit it face first, they jumped, and each one began scaling the doors in their own way. Ben's claws came out, much to his own surprise, without him willing them to, and they dug into the wood. He began going up by literally ripping through the doors. Jacqueline, in a much more graceful manner, simply placed her pointed feet into the arrow slits and almost managed to run vertically up the doors. Caesar, showing ridiculous amounts of upper body and back strength, would grab two arrow slits with his strong fingers, and then lift himself up and place his feet in a set just below those two slits. Then he would spring up farther and get a new handhold, and so on and so forth.

All in all, it seemed like they were about to make it out of the prison, when all of a sudden, the archers showed up on the ramparts.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Dammit!" Isaac swore, watching the archers slowly beginning to assemble and get ready. There were about six of them, mostly human. He raised his gun up, and, knowing that he wouldn't ever get a chance to take one of his foes out, he simply aimed it straight up, fed it his fire, and let the shot go.

Flames shot up, accompanied with a loud bang, and all of the archers' attentions focused instantly on him. Just for a bit more impetus for them, Isaac drew his second gun after having put away the first, and shot at one of the archers.

_That _got their attention. Without another thought, each archer on the wall took aim and fired at him. Isaac, feeling rather annoyed, simply began running, hoping that they would follow him.

He found out a moment later that they _were_ following from the arrow which hit his cloak and weighed him down for a moment, before he ripped the piece of fabric off and left it behind. He tore across the open space, and all he could think was, _They had better be bloody thankful when we meet!_

"Hey!" a rather familiar voice yelled up ahead. "Moogle!"

Isaac looked up, and nearly had a heart-attack. Eileen had the wagon coming straight for him.

"Jump!" she yelled.

He jumped, hard and high, barely a second before the wagon would have hit him. Eileen swerved the chocobo to the right, then lunged forward and grabbed his hand, yanking him up over the edge of the front seat. Isaac hit the ground hard, and didn't have any room to roll.

"Bloody hell, kupo!" he yelped.

"Ultima, you're an _idiot _sometimes!"

"Kupopo!?" Isaac demanded.

"Why didn't you fly?" she asked flatly.

Isaac was silent for a moment. Then, ever so silently, he whispered, "Not one word."

"Of course not."

"You're lying, kupo."

"Through my teeth."

They came up on the gate at a furious pace, and the other three were just getting over the crest of the wall. Jacqueline simply stepped over the edge, did one full slow backflip, and landed in an easy crouch on the ground. Ben dug his claws into the soft wood and dragged them down slowly to the ground. The last, whom Isaac assumed was Caesar, stopped at the top, took a moment, then jumped. A few metres before he would have smashed into a bloody pulp on the ground, he threw his feet out behind him, smacked them against the wood, and went forward into a roll. He came back up to his feet, and shook himself all over to get the dust off.

"He's good," Eileen whispered. "Watch him."

She pulled the wagon into a sudden and violent stop, by getting the chocobo to do a full turn around. Not needing any invitation, the three hopped up onto the wagon.

"Hey!" Ben said as he hopped on. "So how've your nights been?"

"Busy," Isaac said shortly. "Hop in the back, kupo. Jacqueline, you're up top with me to cover us." With that, he flapped up onto the roof, with Jacqueline close behind him.

They were all concerned that the prison would send a party after them, and thus were on edge for much of their journey. However, it seemed that they had managed to shake them off very well. When they finally pulled up to the large-ish airship dock on the outskirts of town, they were even more surprised to find that there wasn't an entire platoon of guards there waiting for them.

"I mean, seriously, it's the biggest cliché of all time!" Eileen complained. "Why couldn't it have happened?"

"Because we are very lucky, kupo," Isaac muttered, hopping down from the roof. "That was one of the worst rides of my life."

"Tell me 'bout it." Jacqueline landed next to him, and shook her head. "Bouncy and windy up there. Not terribly comfy."

"We had a nice ride," Ben said as he and Caesar got out. "But let's go."

The five of them walked into the hangar, and headed, under Isaac's direction, towards _the Fallen Star_. Isaac sighed as he looked up at her, for the first time in many months. They had painted her black, and the name _Fallen Star _was branded into the side. Walking up to the plank laid down for them, he called up, "Oi, Rolf! Let's get going, kupo! I need the sky."

"Well then get your lazy self up here!" Clay called back, his head popping over the top of the railing. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten all we taught ya!"

With a wide smile back at his friends, Isaac said, "Welcome to my world. Let's roll, kupo."


	32. Violent Visions

Isaac sat on the edge of his ship, more bored than he'd felt for many, many years. He had expected, and hoped, that when he got back onto the ship, he'd be allowed to help Clay and Foobar with the machines again, like he used to those months before. He was rearing to get back into his cycle of barely any sleep, and working in the constant hum of the machines. He had been begging for it for several months now, for a sense of normalcy.

However, that desire had proved to be completely wrong. As soon as he got on the ship, he'd gone over to grab a line with Tifone. However, as soon as he did, his left paw had exploded with pain. He'd tried to hide it, but Rolf's sharp eyes caught his flinch, and he called Eugene over to check it out. After a quick once-over of Isaac's still unhealed paw, the nu mou had ordered him not to do any work.

So he sat, quiet, bored, and truth be told a bit depressed, on the railing on the side of the ship. He had consulted with Jacqueline, Ben and Eileen, but all four of them were agreed that there was nothing that they could do without knowing exactly what the arena they'd be breaking Max out of looked like. Thus, Jacqueline and Ben trained against each other in combat below deck, and Eileen was up in the crow's nest with Eugene, reading. They had tied up Caesar very tightly, and he was in the machine room where Clay and Foobar could keep a lookout on him.

"Hey, Isaac," a voice called over to him.

Isaac turned towards it, and saw captain Rolf, standing by the helm, looking over at him.

"Come over here."

Isaac did as he was bidden, and when he was standing before the captain, Rolf said, "You're depressing me. You need to find something to do."

"Sorry, kupo. I'm just bored. I can't really train my shooting, and everybody else is too busy to help me with my blade fighting."

"Hmm…" the captain stroked his short beard pensively. "Nothing left for you to do in preparation for your next break out?"

"Nope," the moogle replied simply.

"Well, then… ah!" The captain's eyes lit up. "Would you like to learn how to fly an airship?"

"I'm sorry, kupo, what!?"

"It's a very useful skill to know," Rolf went on. "You'd be surprised by how few people there are in this world who truly know how to fly and airship."

"I'm not saying that it wouldn't be useful, kupo," Isaac defended, "but, that is a bit out of the blue."

"Oh," the captain shook his head. "Sorry that I asked. You can go back to moping, then."

"Are you kidding, kupo?" Isaac demanded. "Do you actually think that I'm going to pass up this kind of opportunity?"

"It seemed like it just a couple seconds ago."

"Well, like I said: A bit surprising."

"Whatever you say. Here," the captain stepped back a bit, keeping his hands on the helm. "Step between my arms, and take the helm."

Isaac ducked underneath the man's arms, then placed his paws down loosely on the grains of the wood. He could feel every vein in its surface, each one comfortable and somehow welcoming.

"Alright," Rolf said. "Just keep your grip weak for now. I only want you to feel how the turning goes."

With that, Rolf pulled the helm to the left. Isaac's paws went with the surface, feeling the gentle curve. The moogle could feel the ship banking away to the left, and the energy of the wind shifting its force on him. Slowly, Rolf turned the helm back until it was perfectly straight again.

"Did you feel that?"

"Yeah."

"How did it feel?"

"Kupo."

"Alright, let's just keep up with doing this for a while, and if you get comfortable, I might let you actually steer solo for a while."

"You're serious, kupo?"

"Of course."

"And what if I crash the ship into a bunch of tiny pieces by accident?"

"Hey, it's better than watching you just act depressed all day."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Isaac walked into the machine room, where he slept, much happier that night. As it turned out, Rolf _had _allowed him to fly the ship, and it was exhilerating. Of course, it wasn't like he had to do too much, just hold it steady and make a small adjustment every now and again, but still, it was amazing. He was just about to get ready to tell Clay and Foobar about it, when something odd he hadn't expected happened.

"Eh, how was your day, kupo?" Foobar asked, hanging down suddenly beside him from a machine. "I heard that Rolf gave you a lesson today. How do you like flying?"

"It was… great, kupo," he responded. "No other word for it."

"Agreed, kupo. Hey, that nu mou you brought on board, what was her name…"

"Eileen, kupo?"

"…yeah, that was it. She was asking for you, kupo. Waiting by the hammocks."

"Er, right," Isaac said, very quietly. "She's waiting, for me…"

"…over there," Clay replied, and Isaac jumped almost a full metre in the air as he hung down from the other side. "And by the way, Foobar, I totally just won that bet."

"I'll agree on that one, kupo," Foobar said grudgingly.

"Bet, kupo?"

"You've totally fallen for that nu mou, kupo."

"That obvious?"

"Well, between that dumb look on your face, kupo…"

"…the constant stuttering while she's around, kupo…"

"…that time you walked right into the mast while you were looking at her, kupo…"

"…the way you avoid her, kupo…"

"…yet always try to spend time around her, kupo…"

"Hey, you should really get Eugene to give you another look-over. You're twitching."

"Goodnight, kupo!" Isaac called.

"G'night, loverboy!" Clay catcalled after him.

"Why is it the two of us never manage to get a girl, kupo?" Foobar asked him.

"'Tis 'cause we are in love wit ze machines!" Clay yelled, then cackled and pulled himself back up to his current machine.

Isaac shook his head, barely keeping in his laughter as he walked away from the two of them. He headed through the winding path, and climbed over a small pile of scrap metal before he came upon Eileen. She was leaning up against the wall, using the dim light of the small glowing orbs to read a book.

"You're going to ruin your eyes like that, kupo," Isaac muttered as he walked up.

Her eyes rose towards him, and he couldn't help but shudder a bit.

"My eyes aren't that important," she joked. "There isn't too much to look at. I mean, Ben's taken, and you're too short for me to see anyways."

"And what about Max, kupo?"

"Not my type. But about him…" she licked a finger, and turned several pages in her book. "I was doing some research about the Third Eye."

"Oh right," Isaac sighed. "That old thing."

"I know that you hate it," Eileen said quickly, "but as it is, we have no idea what that place looks like. We need to know, and the only way we _can_ know is if you bite the bullet and See it."

"I didn't say I wouldn't do it, kupo," Isaac protested. "It's just that I can't trigger my Third Eye."

"Well, that's what I was reading about," Eileen explained. She showed him the page she was saving with her finger. There was an extremely complicated diagram on it of an eye, divided into several different sections. In each one, there was one word written in large, elegant lettering, with several smaller subtopics. Eileen tapped at one section. Isaac's followed his finger, and read the section.

_Emotion_

_The emotional Third Eye is an interesting case. Whereas other faculties of Third Eyes are triggered by conscious thought and forced will, the Third Eye of Emotion is controlled by emotional spikes. This makes for very common occurrences of Sight power surges from unstable balances of energy. Also, unlike nearly every other Third Eye type, it is not passed through blood relation. It simply random chance. Therefore, Third Eye of Emotion bearers are difficult to find, and many do not realize their powers until very late in their lives. This said, the powers of the Third Eye of Emotion cannot be overlooked. A Vision instantly brings the viewer into the mind of the subject being viewed, so that for a short moment, they are not themselves, but their subject. Also, unless the subject posses a third eye themselves, or any other form of unusual perception, they are unaware of their 'passenger'._

"So what does this have to do with it, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"Read this section."

Isaac looked.

_Activation_

_While more or less random, it _is _possible to trigger a Viewing with a Third Eye of Emotion. The viewer must simply think of the person they wish to View, recalling as many powerful memories of them as possible. As it is the nature of their Eye to search out those close to them with strong emotions, the recollection of any powerful event dealing with the intended subject can normally trigger a greater than normal power Viewing_.

"Well, there you go."

Isaac sighed. He looked up at her and shook his head. "I can't do this, kupo."

"Why? You want to save him, right?"

"Yes, but this is—"

"When we were in Dorsa, you said that you wanted to do whatever it took to save him."

"This isn't quite what I had in mind, kupo."

"Do you think that saving people is always done with swords and spells?" Eileen asked.

Isaac was about to say something back, but stopped himself. Finally, he just said, "I'm never going to beat you, am I, kupo?"

"Nope," she said simply.

"Fine, I'll do it, kupo," he muttered, "but let it be well known that I'm totally blaming you for any adverse effects on my mental state."

"Trust me, you don't have much of a mental state to affect adversely."

"Thanks. I'm going to bed."

"But not to rest."

"Got it. Good night."

He climbed up the familiar large machine he had always used before, and hopped into the hammock hanging there. He waited until he heard Eileen's retreating steps, savouring every syllable of the conversation, before banishing her from his thoughts.

Okay, okay, so, Maxwell… what memories did he have about Max? He ought to have a few, at least. Of course, Maxwell was the last one to join their little quintet of friends. Originally, it had been just Ben, Eileen and Isaac. Then Jacqueline had transferred over to their school from… well, from the only other elementary school in the town. Then, in grade seven, Maxwell had moved to St Ivalice. They'd done lots in that time. Well, they had, he was sure. He just had to think.

Well, there was what they did during the summer. They went on those hikes, sometimes. Max and Isaac normally ended up carrying all the food and packs due to Jacqueline and Eileen appealing to the fact that they were girls, and Ben, well, how had Ben managed to con them into that? He couldn't remember anymore. Then there was that time that he and Max had nearly gone over the edge of the waterfall. Not his fault, though Ben would never admit that.

He dug a bit deeper, and thought about most of the other memories he had of Max. He remembered going to his house for a sleepover with Ben once, and staying up all night doing nothing but drinking pop and playing bad old video games. One thing you could say for Maxwell: he had a rather impressive knowledge of old video games. He'd been talking about one of them the night that everything changed, hadn't he? Yeah, which one…? Oh, right. Final Fantasy 2. Very appropriate. He was talking about how he got every character to use magic, except for Guy, who he just gave two shields and used for defence…

Isaac's eyes suddenly fluttered, and his spirit left his body.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

_He was pushed through the hallways, barely able to walk. Every single muscle in his legs hurt, and each step was complete and utter agony. He shuddered to think of what the others felt at this moment. He was considered unparalleled in leg strength amongst the gladiators, and right now it was taking everything he had to keep going. It seemed strange that he should find this such a challenge when he had just finished fighting off several hordes of undead for over eight hours straight._

"_Keep it moving," the guard on his left told him as he paused for a breath. "Don't make us use the shocker on you."_

_Grudgingly, he lifted his foot and placed it in front of the next again, feeling all of the cramps running up its length. Shuddering, he kept going._

_When they finally reached his cell, they unlocked the door and shoved him to the floor. There was a plate with a stale, maggoty crust on its surface lying next to him. Quickly, he grabbed it and gulped it down, savouring each moment it scratched down his hoarse throat. Food was rare; he normally only got it when he had fought particularly well._

_Then, he crouched down on the dirty, hard floor. He needed sleep. He could only expect a maximum of two days rest before they dragged him back out to fight again. Then it would be the entire thing over again._

_As he lay there, shivering, he considered once again the possibility of just allowing the endless press of zombies to destroy him. It had to be better than this. Just the silence of death, all around him._

_But no, he couldn't do that. There was no telling whether or not the undead could still remember their living memories, and that would be horrible. Also, the other gladiators needed him there. If he went down, it was quite likely that everybody would die with him. Like it or not, amongst the other fighters, with whom he'd never shared more than five words, he was considered a symbol and a leader. They needed him._

_He sighed._

_Why did it have to be him?_

_He drifted off to sleep…_

………………………………………………………………………………………………

_He stepped out into the stadium, the bright, magically created light burning his eyes. Only six hours… why only a few hours? This was ridiculous!_

_He glanced slowly about the now-familiar and intimidating stadium grounds. There were the four main entrances to the grounds; one for each major line on a compass. The gunners lined the walls, in case there were any attempted break-out attempts. He sighed. It was like Auschwitz. He smirked, realizing he'd just said compass, and Auschwitz. Strange how he still managed to remember things from that life. What was the point? Was it even real? Had he just dreamt it up during after passing out in the mountains. Could it be…?_

_No. It simply couldn't. He knew that honestly and without any doubt. The emotions he felt, the images of snow, of automobiles, of short buildings, of those four…_

_The Four who haunted his dreams. He had broken images of them, and feelings of companionship and happiness. Their names… what were they? Ah, yes. He brought up their images in his mind as he thought of them. Eileen, Ben, Jacqueline, and Isaac. He held each one precious in his mind._

_Then, an enormous gong was wrung. He reached down for his blade and touched—_

_No,_ Isaac thought, forcing himself down, deeper into the dream. He didn't see it, but a dull glow began at his forehead, small and oval-shaped. _I need more information!_

He sunk into sleep—

_A zombie jumped out in front of him, and he swiped the crude blade out in front of him, taking the head off of him. Knowing that that wouldn't be enough to bring it down, he took a quick step forward and pushed off with his tree-trunk leg, launching up and forward into a spinning kick. It landed squarely on the thing's chest, shattering it and sending it to the earth in pieces._

_Turning abruptly, he saw the other gladiators already forming up into a tight circle. He ran over to them, hacking two zombies down at the legs as he went, and spun around as he reached them, so that he was facing out. He didn't recognize any of the faces, but he _did_ recognize the look of respect and confidence coming to their faces._

_He hacked left and right, taking down any of the zombies that got remotely close to him or anyone else near him. But Adrammelech, what he wouldn't give for a good spear! Anything other than the flimsy little thing. Sure, he had become quite good with the blade, but really, a spear was much more elegant and powerful. Just so better!_

_A zombie reared up next to him; one he hadn't noticed before. It lunged forward, teeth bared. He cut the head off, but one of the claws got through and scored deep into his skin—_

Isaac screamed as he was thrown from the hammock. He didn't manage to flare his wings as he plummeted to the floor. He hit, and writhed on the hard surface in absolute agony.

Suddenly, there was something touching his face, and somebody was grabbing his face and turning it. "Isaac." Foobar's face came into view. Isaac could barely keep his eyes level to stare at him. "Foobar, get Eugene and Rolf. Go, kupo."

Isaac's eyes drooped, and he passed mercifully from consciousness.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Good morning," Isaac said awkwardly as he came to.

"Holy crap, moogle!" Ben's voice yelped. He came into view. "You're out cold for a whole day and then you just come around with a greeting like that!?"

"Hey, get away from my patient!" a nu mou's hand reached over and grabbed his ear, tugging him away. Eugene's face came into view, and he quickly began speaking.

"Feeling dizzy?"

"Er, no, kupo?"

"Any pain in your hand or head?"

"Not quite…"

"Feeling any express amounts of agony where normally there isn't any?"

"Okay, I'm sorry, what kind of question is that?"

"Just answer them."

"Oh shut up," Eileen's voice sounded, and she pushed the other nu mou out of the way. "How are you?"

"Um, feelin' alright. Any explanation for this in your book, kupo?"

"Actually, yes," Eileen replied. "Did you push yourself after you came in contact physically with something significant."

"Er, yes."

"And did you get… or, uh, did Maxwell get hurt while you were in his body."

"Yes, just afterwards."

"Okay then. From hereonin, don't do that."

"I'd gathered that, kupo," he snapped back, far sharper than he'd intended.

Eileen sighed, and actually looked hurt for a second. Isaac instantly regretted the words. "Look, I'm sorry, I really am. I was just too determined, and I thought it would help, and… and… I'm just sorry."

"Don't be, kupo," Isaac grinned. "I think we're finally ready for this. All we need now is the key."

"No we don't," Ben butted in. He held out his hand. He was holding a small chain, and on it dangled a small, intricate key. The thing was beautiful, black with a small red gemstone stuck into its head. "We got it from Caesar's place yesterday."

"Just 'fore 'e got away from you," Jacqueline muttered.

"Hey, how was I supposed to know he was _that _good?"

"He got away!?" Isaac demanded.

"Sorry," Ben muttered.

Isaac sighed. "I guess it doesn't matter now, kupo. We can track him down once we've got Maxwell. For now, kupo," he smiled, "we're finally ready."


	33. Welcome to Jagd Helje

"Well, it's called an airship, so unfortunately it, and we with it, can't go underground with you."

"I understand, sir," Isaac replied, looking up at the captain. "You've done more than we could've asked for already, kupo."

"Not at all," Rolf said. "You're a member of this crew. Just remember: if you ever get tired of all this adventuring stuff, you could always join the crew again."

"I'll think about it," Isaac nodded, "as for now, the four of us have to get going, kupo."

Rolf nodded, then headed back towards the ship's gangplank. Isaac turned to his friends who were standing behind him.

"What exactly did you mean by four?" Ezel asked him immediately.

There was a collective sigh amongst the other four. "I guess I have to tell him, kupo?" Isaac said, casting a quick glance at the others.

"Hey, if you're volunteering," Ben said quickly. He grabbed Jacqueline and Eileen's arms and twirled them around, then started walking off. "Let's go, girls."

"If you ever include me in a grouping called 'girls' again, I swear I will smack you."

"Whatever you say, 'leen."

Ezel fixed Isaac with a hard stare as they left. "Well? What is it?"

"We've been talking, kupo, and we've sort of decided that, uh…"

"That I'm too old for this?"

"No, kupo! It's just that we don't want anybody else putting their necks out on the line for Maxwell."

Ezel looked at the young moogle for a long time, and then he said very slowly, "I assume that you were the one who suggested this?"

"Yes, kupo," he said guiltily. He forced himself to meet Ezel's eyes.

"I won't pretend that I'm not insulted," he began, "but I know you, and I know what you're like. Just answer me this: If you had the option, would the other three be accompanying you to do this?"

Isaac stopped thinking for just a second at that question. He breathed in, breathed out, and said, so quietly that Ezel could barely hear him, "No."

Ezel nodded. "That's your greatest weakness, Isaac. You have to learn to let others take risks for you. You're not responsible for everybody."

"But I should be, kupo."

"No you shouldn't. That would kill you. I think that what you really need to understand is how precious life is. I know that you wouldn't kill anybody, even if they had a knife to your throat. But your life is precious, too, and your friends don't want to see it wasted. Just think about that for me."

With that, Ezel turned around and walked away from the moogle very slowly, heading back to the ship.

Isaac watched him until he disappeared onto the deck, then stood there until the ship was not but a tiny speck on the horizon. Then, quietly, he turned to face the entrance to Tubola Cave, a massive, wide, dark hole in the earth which went down for miles and miles. Its sides were many dark colours, all melded and blended together in their unnatural sheen.

Taking one long, deep breath, he stepped down into the darkness, running to catch up to the other three.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The four were completely silent as they made their way slowly down through the tunnels. Jacqueline kept a small ball of pale-glowing red magic at her shoulder. It lit enough distance ahead to allow them not to trip over themselves on the difficult terrain. The constant dripping of condensation on the rough walls echoed about the cavern, giving an eerie effect.

Very little happened as they went deeper and deeper. Once or twice Isaac, who was a bit ahead of the others, lifted a hand to bring them to halt. He would listen for several moments, but very seldom was it anything more than a loose rock making noise.

At one point, they were alarmed to see a set of glowing yellow, bestial eyes ahead of them. They were fixed on the red light, made curious by it. When Jacqueline put it out at Isaac's bidding, the eyes grew menacing, and got somewhat closer. Isaac tripped while backing off, and the thing leapt forward, thinking it could find some easy prey in the dark. However, a sudden set of blazing blue eyes appearing next to the fallen moogle told him that Ben was beside him. The blue mage, channelling just enough energy to his throat, let out a very low, very menacing panther growl. The two sets of eyes met for a moment, then the yellows broke off and backed off. The four waited, counting heartbeats, until the thing was gone from sight, and then Jacqueline started the light again, and they kept going.

They paused rarely, and only for a few minutes each time. There was definitely something creepy about the entire place, and they wanted to be through as soon as possible. Every so often Eileen would check the detailed map which Caesar had given them, and they would change directions. Isaac found himself constantly thanking Famfrit that Eileen was there, for he knew that neither he nor anybody else would be able to find their way.

The walking wound on for several hours. They fell into a steady rhythm somehow, climbing over shale and sharp, jagged rocks with ease caused by becoming accustomed.

None could tell how long it was, whether it be two hours or twelve, when they heard and felt the relatively narrow and oppressive earth around them open out into a grand open space. Everybody stopped, but Eileen quickly said, "No, keep going. It should only be a few more metres."

They kept going, and suddenly, at their feet, their was a symbol of some kind engraved into the stone. Eileen bade Jacqueline to lower the light closer to the earth, and knelt, pulling out a book from her robes. She paged through it slowly, until she came upon an image; an exact copy of the seal beneath them.

It was a twelve-pointed star, with a rather detailed airship in the centre.

"Hey, that thing's based on Baguba's seal, kupo!" Isaac remarked, recalling the fifteen pointed star with the airship Baguba used.

"No, quite the opposite," Eileen whispered. "This is the seal of the City of Helje, first and greatest airship port in history. And if I'm right…" she stood up, and lifted a hand up into the air. Whispering a word under her breath, extremely bright orange magic gathered there, blinding all of them for an instant. Their eyes slowly became adjusted, and widened much less slowly. "…this is the gate to the city."

Around them were dozens and dozens of immaculately detailed and perfect columns, reaching up to the heavens. Each one was covered in pictographs and runes of a language far older than anybody could ever hope to guess. However, many of these columns were broken. Sometimes it was a simple burn mark, or every now and again the entire column was broken off close the base. At one spot, a large clump of them had been wiped out, and at their feet lay the ruined skeleton of a crashed airship. They stared about themselves in wonder, drawing in close together at the sheer feeling of being so dwarfed.

After many long moments, Eileen said, her voice seeming incredibly quiet, "From what I've read, the gates were the least damaged part of the city. Either way, let's keep going. The inscription of the Aisen Thirteen should be just up here on the actual gates. Apparently they were written by Lini himself, with one of the Materia Blades."

They went forward until they met the twin heavy doors. They were cut from pure marble, and from different scores and punches into them, they looked to be about a metre thick at the least. Carved into them, clear and elegantly, were several lines of text. They read:

_Sealed within these walls are terrible evils that do not rest, not in life, nor in death. Having reached these doors alone is a testament to your courage and strength, however, should you open the doors with one of the Thirteen Keys, know that you are taking your own life, and the lives of those who stand by you, into your own hands. _

_You have been warned._

_The Aisen Thirteen._

Beneath it was an intricate key hole. Isaac stepped up to it slowly and traced the shape of the letters with his soft paw, feeling each detail. They were truly cut by a master's hand, and no doubt with a blade of the utmost quality.

"Well," Ben said hesitantly, his voice echoing, "in case any of you haven't been getting your fix of awesome fantasy locations, I'd say that this should satisfy you."

"We gonna just stare at it all day?" Jacqueline asked, "'Cause I've been kinda looking forward to this."

"Right," Ben nodded, pulling the key from around his neck. He knelt before the hole, then paused for a moment, looking back at Eileen. "No traps, right?"

"None that the book talks about."

"Great," he said, then he pushed the key into the hole.

There was a moment of silence, and then a great grinding noise came from within the great gates. Ben quickly pulled the key out, and all four backed up, not knowing which way the doors would swing.

Incredibly slowly, the two massive gates began opening. The first thing they were surprised by was the immense thickness of them. They each looked to be about two metres thick, and at their cores they were reinforced with steel. Apparently, when the Aisen Thirteen did something, they did it right.

Eventually, the giant things finished swinging outward, and the four companions got their first view of the legendary Jagd Helje. The city must at one point have been beautiful beyond words. There were towers everywhere, the few standing ones bearing gigantic airship docks. However, most were in pieces, with massive chunks littered about the earth. Amongst the wide streets were many parts and hulls of airships, long since ruined and most apparently looted. There were scorch marks and scars from dozens of spells all over the place.

After a moment, the four of them began stepping forward, and drew in closer to each other. Each one drew their preferred weapons as they went, prepared to do battle the moment a hand began reaching up from the earth below them. They kept a steady pace, for they all had some feeling that the only thing worse than keeping on going into this abandoned hell was not going any deeper.

They were making very good progress through the great city, when a voice called out from nowhere, breaking the eerie silence.

"Who goes there?"

Jacqueline spun so rapidly that none of them even saw the movement, and suddenly she held her rapier pointing out before her in a ready position. Lightning crackled along its length, ready to spark out at any moment. She replied evenly, "Show yourselves, and we'll tell."

"Bad choice, kupo," the voice replied.

There was a whistling sound, and all four reacted on their own. Ben jumped and pulled a full spinning flip, going over several arrows. Jacqueline's rapier lashed out, picking each of her arrows out of the air before they hit her, then she sidestepped in front of Eileen and whirled the sword, protecting the nu mou as well. Isaac ducked his head, watching carefully where all the arrows came from as they whistled by over him. Then, he came back up, both guns in his hands, and fired, throwing the darkness of the past several hours in with the shots.

"That hull!" Ben yelled, pointing as he hit the ground. Instantly, all four headed towards the remains of the shattered ship, keeping their heads low.

"Oh, a nice try, kupo," that voice called out again. "But not good enough."

Suddenly, the four heard several shots ringing out across the distance, and Isaac cried out. A sharp metallic clang sounded, and he dropped both of his guns as a pair of shallow cuts appeared on his hands. In an instant, there were several more shots, and Ben and Eileen each dropped their weapons. Jacqueline worked her hands quickly, and for her effort the cuts appeared on her forearms instead of the hands. She spun and ran backwards, pointing and yelling, "_Feuer!_"

Flames leapt from her hand and landed on the small house that the shots seemed to be coming from. The moment the flames landed, a small, grey form leapt through the window, pulling a perfect front flip. The moogle landed, and, without pausing to aim, fired a gun clenched tightly in his paw. The shot smacked into her knuckles, and Jacqueline dropped her rapier.

The four of them crowded into the ruined hull.

"That didn't go well," Jacqueline observed as they huddled there.

"No, it didn't," Eileen muttered.

"Are we gonna try any magic?" Ben asked, flexing his fingers.

"No, we're not," Eileen snapped. "That guy will take us out in an instant. Not to mention, it seems like that gun can actually break the skin. What if he gets us in the throat?"

"Yeah," Isaac agreed, looking at his bleeding left hand. He reached over to the right, and, flinching, ripped something out of the cut. He held up a small metallic disk. "I've never seen a bullet like this, kupo. This thing's a razor."

"What do you mean?" Ben asked, leaning in to look.

"I mean that this bullet is an actual razor, kupo. You know, sharp, cuts skin rather effectively?"

"So, we going to plan B, then?" Jacqueline asked.

"Looks like it," Eileen nodded.

Jacqueline reached into the small pack on her back, and pulled out a white piece of fabric. Going to the edge of the hull, she threw it out into the open.

One arrow whistled past, accompanied not a moment later by the moogle's voice, yelling, "Hold fire, you idiot!"

The four of them held their breaths. Finally, the moogle called out, "Show yourselves. All four, if you will, kupo."

They walked out into the open, Jacqueline at their head. The moogle stood there, the only visible person there. He was visibly old, his fur grey and his ears slightly drooping with black tips. He held his gun at his side, and Isaac noted the odd appearance of it. The barrel was flat and wide, obviously to compensate for the customized bullets. He wore a simple, dark blue vest, and two bandoliers filled with pockets for the razors. He also had on a pair of simple black dress pants, with a short knife stuck into a knee sheath.

"Well," he began slowly, "you'd better get started explaining yourselves, kupo."

"I 'pologize," Jacqueline began, "my guards 'n' I aren't used to jagds."

"Oh, please cut it," the moogle muttered. "What's your name, kupo?"

Jacqueline paused for a moment, apparently shaken by being so shut down. However, she went on, undaunted, "Name's Jacqueline, The Scarlet Rapier of Muscadet. I'm one of the greatest Red Mages on the surface world."

"Ah, yes," he nodded. "I've heard of you, kupo. And what are you doing here?"

"Looking for challenge," she said simply. "The battles up top haven't got no excitement for me. I want to fight the greatest of illegal gladiators in a life or death battle, and I'll pay for the chance."

She nodded to Isaac, who reached into his own pack and pulled out a pouch which jangled as he hefted it. It contained Jacqueline and Ben's combined winnings from the Colour Tournament.

"I see…" the moogle said quietly. "And who would you say 'the greatest of illegal gladiators' you'd like to duel?"

A light flashed in Jacqueline's determined eyes as she declared, "The Dragoon. Maxwell."


	34. Commander Diesel

Hey, quick note. I rewrote the introduction, if you're interested. Pretty much the same as before, 'cept better ;).

* * *

"Ah…" the moogle replied very slowly, lowering his gun. "I see, kupo. You must accept my apology for the attack."

"No 'pology needed. We were hostile, you attacked. Our fault."

"Hmm, well, kupo," the moogle began, "this isn't a normal request, you must realise. I'll have to ask you to come with me so that I can speak with my superior about this."

"Course," Jacqueline said, sweeping her hat off in an elegant bow. She looked over at the other three, and said, in an imperious manner, "Stand down."

"We don't really have any weapons to stand down with…" Ben began, but Isaac quickly silenced him by kicking him in the shin.

"Oh, yes, you may pick up your weapons. These streets are very treacherous, kupo."

"Aren't you concerned we'll attack you, kupo?" Isaac demanded.

The moogle flashed him a smirk, "Honestly, I think I can take you, kupo, and if you were wondering, I've still got half a dozen sharpshooters shadowing us. So…" he walked over and picked up Isaac's Longbarrel, passing it to him, "arm up all you want." He turned around and began walking off through the streets. As he went, he called back, "Nice shot, by the way, kupo."

Everybody else got their weapons and started walking off, with Isaac staring after the arrogant little moogle. As Ben passed, he bent over and whispered very loudly, "I think you just got showed up."

"Shut up, kupo."

"Just saying."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

As the group of five made their way through the streets, they got to see much of the great architecture of the former Helje littered about them. The towers must have risen high, and in a strange shape, almost like an applecore, with the base and the tops wider than the middles. Isaac attempted to familiarize himself with the differing airship hulls, noting how much older they appeared in design than his own ship. He truly was fascinated by how far they had come. Some of these things used crudely constructed canvas wings with wooden skeletons, while others actually had one or two propellors. These, however, were nowhere near as well-designed or efficient as those on _the Fallen Star_.

Eventually, they noticed a giant pounding up ahead, along with a feeble pulsing green light. The light and the noise both got far more prominent as they went along. Soon, a massive structure came into view. The five of them crested a large hill and ducked (well, _three _of them ducked) through a hole in a ship's hull, and the full splendour of the Helje Colliseum came into view.

"Welcome to my home, kupo," the grey-furred moogle said, sweeping his arms out.

The thing was a giant black circle, with open entrances much like the ones in Dorsa. However, the decoration of this colliseum was far more impressive. At eight evenly-spaced locations there were huge black towers which reached up incredibly high, almost scraping the earthen ceiling. A great green light pulsed from each one of them, providing the feeble light which passed throughout the entire area.

"She's beautiful, isn't she, kupo?" the moogle asked, in a way which reminded Isaac hauntingly of himself speaking about _the Fallen Star_.

"Sure is something," Jacqueline responded quickly, putting force behind the words.

"Yeah, she is," the moogle replied, sighing. "Well, we might as well see her up close then."

As he began descending the hill, Ben, Eileen and Jacqueline glanced over at Isaac for confirmation. He nodded very slowly, indicating that this was indeed the right place. He recognized that feeling, the one of constant gnawing at his chest, that was making his body sweat. How could he describe it? Ah, yes.

Dread.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Just before they would have walked through the main gates, the moogle leading them made a quick left turn and headed up a set of stairs which were etched into the side of the walls. They went up high, dizzyingly high, before they reached a door. The moogle touched his hand to it, and a dull glow emitted from it for a moment. The door swung inward, and the moogle looked back over at them for a moment.

"I have to warn you in advance, kupo," he said very quietly. "My employer is a bit… different. Don't be surprised, because it might get you killed."

The four of them looked at each other, shrugged as one, then followed him in through the door.

Inside, there was absolute darkness. There was quiet for a moment, before a very low voice said, "Commander Diesel. Report."

"Yes sir, kupo. Was doing a normal scouting mission when I came across these four outsiders. We engaged for a very short time with no casualties. The vierra in red said that she was willing to pay in order to…"

His voice died off. After a moment, the hidden voice demanded, "In order to what, commander?"

"In order to fight the Dragoon, sir."

"Ah…" There was silence for a moment. Then, suddenly, deep, raucous laughter filled the room. It was earnest, sincere, and more frightening than anything the four friends had ever heard. "Well then, I believe that I should introduce myself, then."

A figure emerged from the shadows, taller than any of them, his shoulders wide set. He wore a very long, black cloak, which was like a normal cloak at the top, but which at the bottom literally became shadows. The cuff of this cloak was very long and turned up. The figure had long, greasy black hair which was combed back neatly. His eyes were a dark black colour, showing incredible intelligence. His skin…

His skin was completely white and waxy, and no blood flowed beneath it.

The four of them stared up, shocked and horrified at their first experience of being in the presence of a vampire.

The vampire swept partially into a bow, holding one hand out in front of him. He kept his eyes on Jacqueline, and gave a small nod.

The red mage, not missing a beat, stepped forward and placed her hand in the vampire's grasp. He completed the bow and leaned forward to kiss Jacqueline's hand.

"Enchanté," he whispered.

"My name is Jacqueline," she introduced herself, far more eloquently than she normally spoke, Isaac noted. "These are my guards and companions, Ben, Isaac, and Eileen. It is an honour to meet you, Mr…"

"My name is Tarentalas," the vampire whispered. "And it is indeed an honour to meet such a powerful young woman."

All of a sudden, shadows gathered around him, and he disappeared, only to reappear in a puff of black smoke before Isaac.

"And her worthy companions," he continued, staring far down at Isaac. "I see that you are in the practise of the arts of gunmanship. And is that… ah, yes, a blade. You seem to keep yourself covered. Perhaps Diesel can show you some of his inventions in the area of guns at some time during your stay."

"It would be my pleasure, kupo," Diesel said quickly, stepping up behind his master.

"I think I'd like that very much, kupo," Isaac whispered, bending into a quick bow.

"Good," the vampire said, then disappeared and reappeared in front of Eileen. "A student of the magical arts, I see," he said, his eyes sweeping over her robes and finally fixing on her hat. "It is rare for one so young to bear such an honour. You must be impressive indeed."

"Not at all," she replied evenly, curtsying carefully. "I simply detest being told what I cannot do."

"_Very _good," he nodded. "I foresee you becoming an incredibly powerful mage one day. Continue with your work, and I won't be surprised to hear Greatspell added to your name one day."

With that, he appeared before Ben, casting a critical eye over him.

"Ah, and amongst this company of masters, you are the master of…?"

"The beast within," Ben supplied, his eyes sparking blue.

The vampire smiled slightly, showing his long, pointed canines. "Well then, we have a bit in common, don't we?"

He became a shadow again and flowed out until he was standing before all four of them again. When he began speaking, Isaac thought there was something odd about it, before he realised that the monster hadn't drawn in breath before hand.

"Well, this does seem to be quite an interesting proposition. The greatest entertainment fighter of the underworld fighting the greatest entertainment fighter of the overworld. This could draw in quite a crowd indeed. However…" he looked up at Jacqueline, his eyes critical and attentive. "The problem is that one of you would die. If you were to die, well," he smirked, "then I will have no problems to deal with. However, should my property be destroyed, I would require sufficient replacement. Are you willing to pay?"

Jacqueline nodded, then looked over at Ben, who produced the sack of gil again. "Is that enough?"

"Is it full?"

"As much as we could possibly fit."

"Almost. In that case, I would require a guarantee that one of your guards would remain behind to take his place."

There was deadly quiet for about a full minute as they just stared at him. Finally, Jacqueline said, "What?"

"The life of my finest gladiator for the life of one of your guards. They all appear to be of superior quality. Do you accept?"

Jacqueline glanced over at the other three, a look of hopelessness on her face. Ben suddenly stepped forward, standing straight and tall, and making his gaze meet and match that of the vampire.

"We accept. My life for that of your gladiator."

"Excellent," the vampire said. "Commander Diesel, if you'll please show them to where they'll be spending the night? I believe that the battle will take place tomorrow in the afternoon, then."

With that, the vampire disappeared before their eyes.

There was silence for a good time, and then Diesel looked over at them, and said quietly, "Come along with me."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"I'm sorry about my master, kupo," Diesel told Isaac later as they strode across the wrecked landscape of Helje. "He is a bit demanding at times."

"Do you actually enjoy working for him, kupo?" Isaac demanded, hopping over a few pieces of discarded debris. "It seems a bit strange…"

"Of course I don't like working for him, kupo!" the other retorted, looking back over his shoulder. "How _could_ I enjoy it!?"

"Then why do you keep working for him?"

"He has his means…" the moogle muttered, and Isaac decided not to press him.

"So where are we headed, kupo?"

"My workshop, my utopia."

"Ah. It's not in the coliseum?"

"Oh, Famfrit, no! This is the only place that I can be away from that thing, kupo."

"Aren't you afraid that Tarentalas will hear you, kupo?" Isaac asked, glancing around himself for any hidden watchers.

"Let him. I can't leave him, kupo, but he wouldn't be able to control this place without me here," Diesel replied. "If I ever died, there'd be no control. Absolute anarchy, like a normal jagd."

They went on for a little while, before stopping next to a little hut. Diesel kicked open the door, and walked in, lighting a small lamp by the doorway. Isaac stepped in, and glanced around. It wasn't fancy, just what he'd expect the inside of a little hut to look like. There was a table covered with tools and machine parts taking up one small corner, and a large armoire taking up most of the rest of the area.

"What do you think?" Diesel asked.

"Much less than I'd assumed, kupo," he began, "but I like it."

"Yeah, it doesn't look too nice right now. But…" he walked over to the armoire and flung it open. Isaac's jaw dropped at he stared at rows and rows of guns, each one somewhat strange in some way or another.

"Kupo."

"Oh yeah," Diesel laughed. "I keep all of my ammo in these little drawers down here. Custom made, like the razor ones, and a few which are filled with fun little surprises, kupo."

"Like?"

"Poison and Firegel."

"Nice."

"And then these are the guns I made for specific circumstances, kupo." Isaac looked at the section, and the guns arranged there. Some of them were longer and designed for sniping, while another had a system of mirrors attached to the top and links which allowed it to bend around corners. "They were the more technically difficult ones to make, kupo, for when I just need something methodical to do. The real beauties, well…" he glanced about, then felt along the floor of the armoire. He paused for a moment, then slipped his fingers under the board and lifted it up, revealing a secret compartment. "The real beauties are all hidden right here."

He reached down and pulled a strange little object out of the compartment. It was a long bar. There were two slits in it, one wider and somewhat circular on one side, and one a straight line on the other side. Diesel pulled out a simple pistol, and fitted it into the circular slit, then reached behind him and drew his knife. Carefully, he pushed the dull end of the knife into the narrow slit, and then held up the weapon before him.

"I give you," he said slowly, "the gunblade."

"Gunblade?" Isaac asked. He had heard of gunblades in some of the Final Fantasy games, Squall's gunblade from Final Fantasy 8. However, he'd never actually considered one before.

"Yup. Perfect way to be ready for any situation. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Oh yeah, kupo."

"Either way," the moogle checked the clock. "We'd better get going. We want to be back at the coliseum before they douse the lights."

"Why?"

"Monsters are more likely to attack in the dark here."

After closing up the armoire and sealing the door, they left, heading towards the glow. They didn't talk much, paying more attention to their path.

At one point, Diesel suddenly stopped and stiffened.

"What is it, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"Somebody's watching us…" the moogle said quietly, drawing out that same razor gun he'd had earlier.

"Where?"

"Here."

Isaac spun around, and stared as five figures emerged from the shadows. They looked like the average group of stalwart adventurers.

"We just had a long journey here," said the woman at their head. "And we think yer belongings would be a good reward fer our trouble."

"Is that so, kupo?" Diesel asked casually.

"Aye, it is, and—"

She didn't finish the sentence, because at that moment, a razor ripped through her neck. She fell forward, gurgling, as Diesel fired four more quick shots. Three of them found their marks in the necks of the remaining party, but the final member managed to draw his swords and deflect the hit. Diesel, however, was already running up, his knife in hand. The man swung at him, but Diesel simply ducked underneath them, then jumped up and dragged the dagger across his throat.

The human stood for an instant, before falling back, blood gushing from his slit neck.

Diesel stood there, his chest heaving for a moment. Then he looked over at Isaac, grinning. "You see, kupo. It's not just the monsters that get jumpy when the light starts dwindling."

Isaac, however, was too busy staring at the blood on Diesel's knife. Those five people had just… died. He'd watched many people die in engagements, but they all came back. Then when Topier died, he hadn't really been able to see anything. But now, this? Bleeding and gurgling like that…

"Come on," Diesel finally said. "Let's get going."

He walked up and past Isaac, who remained staring for a moment. Then, Isaac turned slowly and began following, before he stepped on something. Looking down, he saw a bullet lying on the ground.

"Hey, Diesel, kupo." He bent down and grabbed it. "You dropped thi—"

He stopped as he stared at the little bullet. It appeared to be made of pure silver. A small cross was etched into the side, and when he shook it, there was a liquid inside. The small thing had a slight glow to it, too.

Diesel's hand suddenly snatched the bullet away from Isaac. Isaac looked up to see the other moogle glaring at him.

"If you ever mention this to anybody, ever, I will kill you," he whispered, and Isaac couldn't help but shudder at those intense eyes.

Then Diesel spun around, and shoved the bullet into a side slung satchel he carried. He continued speaking as though nothing had happened.

"You should get some sleep, kupo. You and your friends have a big day tomorrow."


	35. A Vampire's Rage

"One thing I have to request."

"And that'd be?"

"Don't screw up. Please."

"Oh, thanks. Don't need to remind me."

"There's one small part of this plan that we still need to work out, you guys."

"What'd that be, Eileen? Make it quick, not much time."

"Well, how is Maxwell going to recognise you?"

That small statement made all four of them stop dead in their tracks. They hadn't considered that. The four sat in the room which had been provided for Jacqueline to get ready. They had decided to use that as their base of operations, as it was the one place they could be most assured that they wouldn't be spied on.

"Well, I look pretty much the same," Jacqueline said.

"Not quite, kupo," Isaac said.

"How so?"

"Well, your skin's darker, you're taller, you're much skinnier, your face is a bit more, uh, what's the word for it, kupo?"

"Angular," Eileen supplied.

"Thanks, angular. And, well," Isaac shrugged. "The ears don't help too much, kupo."

"Right," Jacqueline muttered, reaching up and scratching one of the rabbit ears thoughtfully. "Forgot about that."

"Well, the three of us are going to be in the arena, monitoring," Ben began.

"I can't say that I'll be much help on that," Eileen said sheepishly.

"There's me, but he probably won't look at the average old human," Ben muttered.

"Um, I wouldn't be much help anyways, kupo, but on top of that, I, uh, probably won't be there…"

"What?"

Isaac took a step back at the three shocked declarations. Well, that hadn't gone quite as well as he'd expected. "Well, I'm going to be in one of the towers with Diesel."

"Why?" Eileen demanded.

"I thought that it would be a good idea to keep an eye on him. He's probably the biggest threat to us, kupo…"

"And how are you planning to get down to us?" Ben asked.

"Look, it's not like we've planned too much on the entire thing, kupo! And besides, he offered me a personal invitation. I couldn't turn that down without suspicion! Besides, out of all of us, I'm the best one to take him down, and he's the wild card we weren't counting on. I can keep him out of the fight altogether, kupo."

"Fine," Jacqueline snapped as the other two began taking in breaths to argue. "It's too late to deal with that now. The question is, how will we get Max to recognize me?"

The four were quiet for quite a long time. Then, Isaac spoke up. "You know, I think those ears of yours might come in handy, kupo."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Did you pay your final respects to your friend, kupo?" Diesel asked as they climbed the many steps to the top of the tower.

"I wished her luck, kupo," Isaac replied. "Not that she needs it."

Diesel laughed, shaking his head slowly. "You've never seen the Dragoon fight, have you?"

"And you've never watched the Scarlet Rapier dance, have you, kupo?"

Diesel gave him a slight inclination of the head, smirking. "I guess that this should be quite the fight then, shouldn't it?"

"Oh yeah," Isaac nodded, huffing and puffing. "How far until the top?"

"Only about a minute. Sorry, it's quite a hike, kupo."

"That it is, kupo," Isaac muttered, considering how he was going to get down all these steps quickly enough to rendezvous with his friends at the bottom.

They reached the top, and found it deserted. It was very plain: a simple stone floor with a moogle-waist-high lip of stone going around the outsides. The stairs went down from a small hole in the ground, located in the center. The two approached the lip and peered over. Isaac glanced around, and guessed that they were about three-hundred metres up, which afforded them a very good view of the arena below them.

The stands were filled to the breaking point with the residents of the underworld. Apparently, though they rarely showed their faces, Jagd Helje actually had a very heavy population. The five of them

Though Jacqueline hadn't stepped onto the field yet, Isaac instantly spotted Ben and Eileen, standing on the sidelines. They were both wearing full battle gear, much like Isaac. Ben had both sabres strapped on, his hat pulled low, and his long blue cloak buttoned firmly shut down the front. The sleeves of his cloak were rolled up, so that his bare hands were visible, just in case he had to use some blue magic. Eileen's robes were all well pressed and tidy, and her mace was in her hand. Though he couldn't see it, Isaac knew that she was meditating, gathering her energy around her in preparation.

At that moment, there was a puff of smoke in the center of the arena, and there was Tarentalas, in all his horrible splendour. He looked up at all of the assembled crowd, and raised his hands, yelling out, "Welcome! We all already know why we are here; to witness the greatest battle of our time!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and roars of excitement. Tarentalas waited for the noise to die down before he continued, his breathless voice ringing out: "The battle of Jacqueline, the Scarlet Rapier, against Maxwell, the Dragoon!"

Once again, the vampire had to stop for a time, as the crowd exploded again, this time with many hundreds of them yelling out, "Dragooooooooooon!"

"Thus, let our own champion enter!"

The large doors on one side of the coliseum opened up, and there was one figure there. That figure belonged to a creature akin to the ones that mothers would tell naughty children about to frighten them out of misbehaving. The figure was a bangaa, as was evident from the broad shoulders, long snout, and thick, muscled tail. He wore little more than rags, which did nothing to show off the impressive muscles in his arms and much more impressively his legs. Those legs were about the size of tree trunks, incredibly powerful and most likely near fatal to take a kick from. His shoulders, however strong and great, were slouched forward, and his entire appearance suggested defeat and resigned acceptance. He held a crude blade in his right hand, rusty and near-dull. A small iron ring was looped around his ankle, and a dull glow emanated from it. Isaac gritted his teeth upon seeing it. He'd seen that in his dream. The small thing repressed several of Maxwell's more impressive abilities, and also acted as a leash, making it impossible for him to leave the coliseum.

"And now, for the challenger!" Tarentalas cried, pointing a hand at the doors opposite Maxwell.

They swung open, and in walked Jacqueline. Her long silver hair was tied back into a ponytail to keep it from falling into her eyes. The red robes she wore were kept tight to her body using several long leather belts and straps. Her rapier was still sheathed at her left hip, positioned just perfectly so that she could draw it in an instant if need be. Her large, red pointed hat was strangely absent however. In its place, her ears tucked easily through the ear holes, was Isaac's fedora.

"Any particular reason why she's wearing your hat?" Diesel asked.

"Alright, kupo," Isaac muttered. "Just because I gave her a good luck charm doesn't mean that I wished her good luck."

"Would the opponents please approach the center of the arena?" Tarentalas's voice boomed.

The two slowly approached each other. Jacqueline kept her eyes steadily set upon Max, but the bangaa's eyes hadn't risen from the ground yet. When they met in the middle, Maxwell finally raised his eyes. For a moment, there was shocked surprise plastered all over his face, before he managed to quickly get his feelings back in control.

"Now, shake hands," Tarentalas ordered.

The two reached forward, taking each other's hand and shaking slowly, making it look competitive. Maxwell's blade was pointed at the earth, but his grip on it was tight, and Jacqueline's other hand was on the hilt of her rapier.

"In that case…" Tarentalas disappeared in a cloud of darkness, which quickly flowed up to the tower opposite that Diesel and Isaac were on top of. His voice still rang out, just as clear, "You may begin."

Their hands parted, and each leapt back one step before charging back forward. Jacqueline's rapier flashed out, smacking forward in repeated stabs. Max parried each one of them with perfect grace, spinning quickly as he did so. Then, he retaliated by twirling around and whipping his blade out at her at full extension. Jacqueline bent over double backwards to avoid it, then continued with the momentum into a backflip. She landed, her rapier ready. Max lunged forward with a mighty stab, and Jacqueline jumped up, landing gracefully with one foot on the blade for an instant, before leaping again and kicking Maxwell in the face. The mighty bangaa fell back, grasping his nose and growling in outrage. He regained his balance and stared at Jacqueline in absolute rage for an instant, before grasping his blade in both hands and running at her.

Jacqueline's rapier came out to block, but Maxwell's blade smacked it out to the side with his brutal strength. Isaac knew that Jacqueline could've avoided that. He had watched her fencing with Ben before, and he knew that normally she would have simply feigned the block and twirled her rapier around the strike, leaving her opponent open for attack.

This was it, Isaac realised. He let his paw drift slowly down to the hilt of his blade. Things were about to begin.

Max brought his left elbow back across towards Jacqueline's face. Isaac's trained gunner's eyes noted the millimetre large gap between the elbow and Jacqueline's nose. Jacqueline, acting as though she were hit, kicked off lightly with her right foot, throwing herself backwards and into a spin. She fell, and hit the ground.

"Wait," Diesel muttered. "That's not right, kupo…"

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded, his grip tightening on the hilt.

"He didn't hit her… That attack missed…"

Maxwell stopped, his chest heaving. Jacqueline didn't move from her sprawled out form. Maxwell slowly approached, raising his blade for a finishing crushing blow.

At that moment, Ben screamed in mock rage and ran forward, one of his sabres locked into his grasp. He ran at Max from behind, making as though to run him through. The bangaa spun around, saw him, and threw himself into a backflip to get away from the slashing sabre.

Beside Isaac, Diesel began drawing his gun.

Knowing that this was when it began, Isaac drew his blade.

The sabre swung by the Maxwell's ankle, and exploded with blue light which Ben fed it to strengthen the blow.

Diesel's gun came down to bear upon Ben.

Isaac's blade smashed the gun from Diesel's hand.

The metal loop split apart, and fell off.

As the crowd exploded with shock and confusion, Isaac and Diesel's pupils focused on each other out of the corners of their eyes. Then, Isaac jumped back as Diesel's knife came out and stabbed at his exposed side. Isaac's other paw went to his short barrelled gun, but found his holster empty. Looking up, he saw Diesel levelling the weapon at him. He fired, and Isaac swung his blade out in front of him, knocking the bullet out of the air from luck more than anything. The two each took a step towards each other, and their weapons met, sending sparks up into the air. Diesel's lighter weapon smacked along Isaac's blade three times in that one exchange, but he held tight. He spun and slashed, and Diesel bent over backwards out of the way of the attack. He came back up, stabbing at Isaac's face. Isaac turned his head out of the way, then brought his arm back to elbow the other moogle in the stomach. He backed up, bent over double and wheezing, and Isaac advanced. Diesel suddenly came up straight, pointing the gun he'd stolen from Isaac. Quickening his pace, Isaac swung his sword and split it in two at the base of the barrel. Realising what he'd done, Isaac leapt back. Diesel, who had no idea of how the gun worked, looked surprised, and his surprise only increased when the handle he still clung to ignited into flame and let off several small explosions. The grey-furred commander threw it away on instinct, then met a charge from Isaac. Isaac stabbed forward, and Diesel moved his head out of the way, grabbing Isaac's wrist with his hand. He stabbed at Isaac, and the brown-furred moogle grabbed Diesel's wrist in the same manner. They were locked like that for a moment, before Diesel drove his knee upward into Isaac's gut. He heaved forward with his hands, and threw Isaac back several feet onto his back. The young gunner stayed down, breathing hard.

Diesel approached his fallen enemy slowly, twirling his knife around his wrist nervously. When he was standing directly above Isaac, whose eyes were shut and whose breathing was haggard, he raised the knife up for a final finishing stab, then brought it down.

Faster than Diesel could react, Isaac rolled to the side, his grasp tightening on his blade, and came up in a crouch, his blade resting comfortably at Diesel's throat.

They heard the sounds of fighting suddenly from below them, and the explosion of magical attacks ringing out. Their chests were heaving from the intense physical combat.

"If you move, I'll kill you," Isaac told him.

"And if _you _move, kupo, _I'll _kill _you_," Diesel told him.

Isaac suddenly became aware of the cool feeling of metal on his armpit. He glanced down to see the point of Diesel's knife sticking through his vest and shirt, touching the skin just below his armpit.

"Path straight to your heart," Diesel said.

Isaac smirked at him. "Well, isn't this going to be fun, kupo?"

"I'll strike you a deal," Diesel said suddenly and brightly, "If we stay like this, we're both going to end up dead, kupo. So, I'll let you walk away from this right now if you'll do the same."

"Not a chance, kupo," Isaac laughed, shaking his head. "I'm not an expert at battle tactics, but I know that you're the most important figure in this kind of attack, commander."

"Hmm…" Diesel mused. "You're smarter than I thought. Too bad."

"Why?" Isaac asked, confused.

Suddenly, a shot rang out. Not from Isaac or Diesel's guns, but from behind them. Isaac felt a sudden pinpoint of pain on his back, and then his entire body locked up and would not move.

"Commander Diesel, sir?" asked a voice, clearly a moogle's, from behind them.

Glancing a pleased smirk over at Isaac, Diesel reached over and grabbed his blade, prying from his rigid grasp. He stepped backwards out of Isaac's vision for a moment, and then he heard the two discussing.

"Well done. Thank you for that, kupo."

"Of course, sir. Should we help out with the fight?"

"I don't think so. I've got other business to attend to."

"Kupopo?"

There was the sound of a blade whistling through the air, and then a squelching noise. The other moogle's voice came out in a strangled grasp, followed by some gurgles, then something hit the floor.

Diesel returned into Isaac's vision, wiping blood off of Isaac's blade. He reached over and replaced the weapon into Isaac's sheath, before smiling at him.

"Well, we'll have to see how this plays out, kupo. Of course, I'm not about to help you and your friends… but I won't attack you guys either. If I think you're losing, then I'll finish the job and kill all of you. If I think you're winning, well…" his smile widened. "We'll have to see what happens then. Either way, I can't have it look like I did nothing to try and stop you from mercilessly slaughtering my subordinate, so…"

He reached over and grabbed Isaac under the arms, dragging him over to the edge of the tower. "I do hope you survive this, kupo," the moogle smirked. "Good luck."

With that, he flung Isaac off the edge, still locked in by the stopshot, and watched the moogle fall.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Several hundred metres below, Max, with his true powers now unleashed, stood watching as about twenty guards swarmed about onto the battlefield. His eyes scanned them, until he locked onto one bangaa who was carrying a spear. He looked over to Jacqueline, who had gotten back up to her feet, and pointed at the other bangaa, yelling, "Get me a path to that one!"

She nodded, then ran towards that one group, with Maxwell keeping perfect stride. Jacqueline whipped her rapier forward, meeting the sword of a human. Jacqueline twisted the rapier around in her hands, spinning it about and forcing the human's sword into a similar uncomfortable spin. When she finished it, her rapier was pointing directly at the human's chest, but held back by the sword. Smirking, she lifted her hand, pointed, and whispered, "Feuer."

Flames leapt out of the rapier and caught onto the human's chest. He fell back, crying out in pain and hitting the ground.

Maxwell ran by her and met the spear-wielding bangaa. His blade smashed into the spear, which the other bangaa held in a horizontal quarterstaff block. Faster than his opponent could react, Maxwell's blade snapped back over, smacking the blade of the spear and knocking it down a bit. He lifted one powerful leg up to kick the spear, sending it out of the other's grasp and up about two metres into the air.

Dropping his blade, Maxwell filled his lungs with air.

When the air came back out, it was crackling with lightning and concentrated into a cone of death.

The electricity slammed into the bangaa's metal armor, conducting all over his body. Maxwell's foe fell in spasms as the dragoon caught the spear perfectly in his left hand, twirling around his wrist before stopping it in both hands in a perfect ready position.

Oh yeah, he'd been missing spears.

Turning around, he saw the other three bunching in together in anticipation of the crush that was no doubt coming. He ran over to join them, keeping his eyes scanning the field for rangers.

"Hey, Max," Ben called, "Nice to see you again."

"The same," Max nodded. "Might I ask where the fifth member of our quintet has gotten to?"

"Isaac?" Eileen asked, as an orange glow began collecting around her. "He's up in one of the sniping towers."

Maxwell glanced up at those towers, and saw a small figure suddenly come plummeting over the edge of one of them. He glanced over at Ben, glad to see one of his former friends who didn't have fur or rabbit ears. "Would _that _be him?"

Ben followed his gaze, and swore. "Yeah, that's him! He's got quite a thing for falling off tall objects."

"Right," Maxwell muttered, grasping his spear in both hands. "I will be right back."

"What?"

With that, Max took two steps forward, then drove the but of the spear into the earth. Using it as a launcher, he tensed his great leg muscles, then took off.

He flew. There was no other word for it. He rose about a hundred metres, his spear held out horizontally behind him in one hand to steer, and came up right next to the moogle. Reaching out, he plucked Isaac out of the air with his extra hand, and kept going. The bangaa landed comfortably in a crouch on the wall of one of the towers, and took a deep breath.

"Long time no see, kupo," Isaac muttered, his eyes wide with surprise at his sudden lack of mortal peril.

"Hello, Isaac," Max breathed, then chuckled.

"What, kupo?"

"You are a moogle."

"I hate every one of you."

With a grin, Max push off again, just before they would have fallen. He pulled one, full, slow backflip as he went, then landed in an easy crouch about three metres from the rest of their friends. He dropped Isaac, and the two of them joined up with the three others.

"Well that was impressive," Eileen muttered.

"No arguments," Ben replied. "But now how are we going to get out of here?"

"That door," Isaac and Max said as one, pointing towards a small entrance in the side of the arena. Max glanced over at him and Isaac shrugged. "I've been a bit closer than you thought, kupo."

"I'll just assume that the explanation is forthcoming," Maxwell muttered. "That door leads to the armoury."

"They're forming up," Isaac observed, gesturing his head at the large ring of guards around them.

"Then I'll lead the way," Ben muttered.

"I've got you covered," Eileen added.

Ben sheathed his sabres, then ran directly at the small group of humans which was in his way. One or two of them managed to get their wits together enough to send an attack his way. Ben sidestepped a block of air and rolled under an arrow, coming back up to his feet unhindered. Just before he was about to actually meet with the group, Eileen yelled out, "_Aufflackern!_" Flames erupted from the earth, rising in an inferno to destroy many of the guards standing there. Isaac looked away as Ben's blue light struck up, not wanting to watch as he tore them apart.

"Less go!" Jacqueline yelled, and the four of them ran for the door.

From up ahead, Ben yelled out, "The door's locked!"

"Get out of my way, then!" Max roared. Ben stepped out of the way, and Max pulled ahead of the others, jumping over the scene of molten slaughter caused by Eileen and Ben's magics, and smashing his foot into the door.

The thing was ripped off of its hinges, and flew backwards several metres into the room. He ran into the room, quickly followed by the others. As Max bent to grab the door, one of the guards ran into the room, a dagger clenched in his fist. He was about to plunge it into Maxwell's back, when Isaac drew his gun and fired a shot off his forehead. The human took a step back, knocked off-balance. That was all the invitation Maxwell needed, as he picked up the door and used it to push the guard out the entrance. He fitted the door back into position, and Jacqueline ran over. She touched her rapier to the metal hinges, and, using her flames, welded the entire thing shut. Max stepped back, and Ben pushed a large rack of weapons in front of the door.

With that done, the five of them took a moment to breathe and stare at each other. Finally, Ben broke the silence, saying, "That was, quite simply, awesome."

"Agreed. But we got a little problem now, don't we?" Jacqueline reminded him.

"Yes…" Maxwell whispered. "Thanks for the rescue effort, but what is the plan now?"

"'Now'?" Eileen laughed. "There hasn't been a plan since the start."

"Well," Isaac added quickly, "seeing as we're in an armoury, and it can only be so long until they break down that door, kupo…" Almost as if to accentuate his point, a pounding came at the door. "I say we should load up."

"Best plan I can think of," Jacqueline agreed, and the five split up, each running to one rack or another.

The room was vast, and filled with row upon row of weaponry and armour. There were separate sections for each race, and thus Isaac found his equipment first (the ones with the shortest racks). He grabbed two more belts of ammunition from a pile, wrapping them tightly around himself. After transferring all the bullets from his near-empty bandolier to his other fuller one, he dropped that to the ground. Then, he went to a long wall of guns, checking through them just in case there was one he'd like. His finger traced along each one until it stopped on one pair of holsters with twin pistols in them. He pulled one out, and noted a bulky bit at the base of the barrel. He hit a small clasp on the side, and watched a tiny department pop out of the side. Looking closely, Isaac noted that there were six bullets nestled comfortably in it.

Isaac grinned. A pair of six-shot revolvers. He pulled off the holster from the gun he had lost, and placed it on the rack. Then, he grabbed the two new guns and attached them so that each gun's handle was sticking out on either side of his torso, about halfway up.

Isaac then proceeded to a rack filled with light pieces of clothing for moogles. His vest had been getting thin lately anyways, and the cut from Diesel's knife had sealed the deal for him. He flitted through until he found a leather vest, dyed blue. He tossed it on over his shirt after discarding the older vest. It felt more flexible, but also harder. Then, he headed back to the centre of the room.

Jacqueline was already there, with a new rapier and a fresh set of chainmail underneath her robes. She glanced up as he approached, and smirked.

"Well, see you went to town," she said. She reached up and removed Isaac's fedora from her head, tossing it to him. "That's yours."

"Thanks, kupo," Isaac replied. "Nice work out there."

"Ah, it was fun," she smiled. Then her smile disappeared. "How you holding up?"

"Kupopo?"

"I saw your face when Eileen and Ben took out them guards. You okay?"

Isaac sighed, and shook his head. "It has to be done, kupo. Just because I'm not willing to kill doesn't mean that you're all unable to."

"But you're not okay with it."

Isaac smiled a small smile, and said, "I'll be fine."

"'kay then. How's it going with Eileen?"

Isaac glanced quickly around them, and didn't breathe again until he was sure that the nu mou in question wasn't nearby. "Say it a bit louder, kupo!"

"If you want me to," she shrugged, then took in a deep breath to yell.

Isaac, not doubting that she would do it, pulled out his Longbarrel and pointed it at her. "I'll do it, kupo. Don't think that I won't."

Jacqueline grinned and let the air out. "So you haven't made a move?"

"_No_, kupo."

"Get a move on it," she suggested, cocking an eyebrow at him. "At this rate, we'll all get killed by next adventure."

"Thanks."

Just then, Eileen walked up, grinning from ear to ear. "I actually like this vampire," she declared. "He's got so many fun little magic things to steal."

While her choice in general clothing hadn't changed much, Eileen had put on many pieces of small jewellery which were undoubtedly magical in some way. There were three small rings around each of the large holes in each ear, one red, one blue and one yellow. A pendant hung from a chain around her neck, which was a perfectly clear diamond. However, as Isaac looked closer, he saw that there was a tiny little core of orange in it.

"Honestly, I could spend a year in here and not get bored with all his stuff."

"Too bad," Jacqueline said, shrugging. "Personally, I want the sun. And could I get my hat back?"

"Oh, sure," Eileen said, reaching into her robes. She tossed the red hat to Jacqueline, who promptly placed it on her head.

Ben showed up next. He had two new sabres attached to his back, and a long dark robe on instead of his old blue one. He nodded to them, and was about to speak, when Maxwell walked up, and all of their jaws dropped.

"Well," Jacqueline muttered, "sorry for saying _you _went to town, Isaac."

"He took everything from me," Maxwell explained. "I figured this was the least he could do to repay me."

He looked completely different. He wore a large, heavy set armour, covering him from his chest down to his legs. It was beautiful and shiny, so well-polished that they could see their faces in it. He had done away with the plain old spear, and now had a large, long, beautiful one, crafted for perfection down to every perfect detail. The weapon had definitely been made by a master. He also sported a long red cape which went down almost to his feet. He held under his arm a large, equally well-crafted helm which was designed to look like a dragon's head, with the nostrils of the great beast just above the mouthpiece.

"Well, that door will not hold much longer," the bangaa observed. "Shall we get to this?"

They all drew their weapons. They knew how dangerous this was going to be. They knew it was likely they were all about to die. They knew that this may be not only the first time they had all been together in nearly a year, but also the last time they would ever be together. They knew this, and they were ready. With spear, sabre, rapier, gun, and mace readied, they turned to the door.

What they did not know was that the battle was about to be brought to _them_.

Just as Max was about to push the rack of armour away from the door, Ben cried out in surprise from the back of their line. They spun, and saw that he was gone, with only a small cloud of black smoke left where he was standing.

"Tarentalasss!" Maxwell cried, and the other three noted his hiss appearing with his fear.

Another flash of darkness came up not an instant later, and Eileen was gone. Jacqueline yelled something about getting ready, and then she was gone. Isaac turned to Maxwell and shrugged, then felt a cold, strong hand with a vice-like grip clamp down onto his shoulder, and an instant of incredible disorientation. Then, he was falling forward and sprawling onto the grounds of the arena, sand getting in his fur.

Isaac coughed, and looked up. He found the barrel of a gun pointing into his face. He followed the gun up and saw that Diesel was holding it. The commander smiled at him, then said quietly, "Please get up."

Isaac stood up slowly, and looked around. He was in the middle of the arena. Eileen, Jacqueline and Ben were standing next to him, each one looking wary and surprised. There was a rather large ring of sword bearing warriors standing around them, and about thirty archers standing in the lowest levels of the stands with arrows trained on them. Suddenly, Maxwell was stumbling next to Isaac from out of nowhere, and then Tarentalas appeared in the center of the five of them.

The look on his face froze Isaac's blood. While those eyes had been completely emotionless before, now they were something much worse. Not rage, not anger, not disgust, not power. Laughter. There was laughter in those eyes. Laughter at their helplessness. He could kill all five of them in that instant, and he knew it, and he knew that they knew it. They could do nothing against their imminent demise at his hands. He held all the power.

"Well," he said simply. "I must say that I'm disappointed. I thought that the four of you were more honourable than that."

"Well—" Ben began, but was silenced a moment later when Tarentalas disappeared for an instant, and the blue mage went suddenly sprawling backwards several feet before landing hard on his back. Tarentalas reappeared back where he was standing as Ben sat up painfully and wiped blood from his lip.

"None of you have the right to speak," the vampire whispered. He turned slowly, looking each one in the eye as he spoke, the green light illuminating his face and making him look all the more devilish. "I welcomed you here. I allowed all of you the chance at the battle of a lifetime. I gave you food and board. And _this _is how you repay me?" He grinned, and the five of them knew he'd come up with their punishment. "Thus, I will afford you an even greater honour. The true greatest battle which will ever grace this arena: these five renegades against I, Lord Talentalas of Jagd Helje. First, however, I wish to know why. Jacqueline, you are the leader of this group of dogs," he disappeared, and then reappeared directly in front of her, his face leaning in close to hers. His hand reached down and grasped her firmly around the throat, and he said, "You shall tell me why you have come, and why you have done this."

Jacqueline stared him directly in those horrible eyes, and without a tremor in her voice or a doubt on her face, she said, "My friends are more important than you, and not one o' them deserves what you did to Max."

And, with that said, she spat in his face.

There was dead silence for several seconds as everybody stared on in shock. Then, Tarentalas roared, and drew back his hand, about to crush Jacqueline.

Ben let out an equally ferocious roar and jumped at Tarentalas from the side, his sabres spinning in wide and dangerous circles. Just as one of his sabres would have slashed through the vampire, he disappeared into a shadow, and reappeared directly in front of Maxwell. The vampire threw a punch, and Maxwell blocked it with one hand, grabbing the fist. Though the powerful bangaa had his feet planted firmly at his sides, the vampire's punch pushed him back about a metre, leaving deep tracks in the earth. Maxwell pulled hard on the hand, using it as further leverage to flip over Tarentalas's arm and attempt to scissor kick him in the face.

Tarentalas, however, disappeared. As soon as he vanished from his short exchange with Maxwell, Eileen crouched down and orange light gathered around her. Her eyes closed and a serene look came across her face as she felt with her magic for his dark presence. When he showed up right behind her, she instantly spun around and smacked at him with her mace. He, however, disappeared once again, and Isaac, knowing what was coming, reached for his two new guns and drew them out.

He heard something off to the side, and turned. There was the vampire, several metres away, holding a glob of some sort of green and foul-smelling slime, about to throw it. Isaac pointed and fired with both guns. The vampire, drifted to the side and out of the way, so Isaac fired again, and again and again, going through the entire rounds of both guns as the vampire dodged. At last, the vampire smiled at him, and threw the slime. Holstering the two spent weapons, Isaac grabbed his Longbarrel and infused it with the cold he had felt while watching his friends kill those guards. He fired, and the slime froze. The added weight caused it to fall a metre short of Isaac.

Tarentalas reappeared in the centre of them, grinning. "Well, isn't this fun?" he asked, and he actually did look as though he was having fun with their petty attempts to attack him. "Now let's just see if any of you are unlucky enough to share a similar battle style with me."

"No!" Eileen yelled, and summoned a flare at the vampire's feet as the ring of swordsmen around them backed up quite far away. They thought for an instant as the flames rose that they had finally got him, but he reappeared an instant later behind Eileen. He delivered a back-handed slap to the back of her head, and she fell about a metre to the right, spinning to a hard landing.

"A flare, is it?" the vampire asked. "How about I show you my own flare?"

He raised a hand into the air, and called out, "_Aufflackern vor Schwärzung!_"

Darkness rose up from the earth beneath Tarentalas, and the vampire sighed in the rush of it. They were so fixated on the vampire, that Isaac, Jacqueline, Eileen and Maxwell didn't notice Ben until he screamed in absolute agony. They looked over, and saw they same darkness washing over him, and burning all the skin it touched. The dark cloak he wore seemed to repel much of the darkness from his form. He was bent over double, and his throat was already hoarse from the screams issuing from it. As the darkness began fading, a blue light came out from the cloak where his leg would have been, and reached out to grab some of the darkness. It pulled the darkness back with it, assumedly to the pin in Ben's pant leg. Then, the darkness was gone, and Ben collapsed to the ground.

"Ah, so I see he fights more with fury than finesse," Tarentalas grinned. "Or at least he did." Darkness gathered in his hand, and it formed into a long blade. He disappeared, reappearing before Ben with the blade above his head. "But no more."

"_Zwei: Blitz und Blitz!_"

Twin forks of lightning flew from Jacqueline's hands as she rushed forward. The viera drew her rapier, coming hard on the heals of the electicity. Tarentalas disappeared out of the way of her electricity, and Jacqueline, as though she could read his mind, spun full around, and her rapier rung off of his dark sword. He moved lightning fast to counterattack, but Jacqueline was the faster as she reached forward with her empty hand and smacked his sword-arm out of the way. There was a general intake of breath as she actually made contact with his skin. She pointed her rapier at his chest, and said, "_Feuer!_" Flames leapt from the rapier's tip, catching onto his chest.

The vampire cried out, then disappeared. The flames, having nothing else to cling to, fell to the earth. Jacqueline, however, didn't watch, as she simply spun her rapier around into a stabbing position, and drove it blindly behind her.

Everyone gasped as the tip of the rapier touched the waxy flesh of Tarentalas's chest, and went through, running all the way through his body up to the hilt. Tarentalas was silent in shock that he'd been hit, and didn't even move when Jacqueline pulled the clean sword out of his body. She turned around and looked up into his eyes, a condescending look on her face.

"You ever touch him again, I'll rip you apart."

Tarentalas looked shock one more moment, and then a wide smile crossed his face. He said, quite easily, "My, my. You are impressive. Nowhere near good enough, though."

He reached out suddenly, shoving her with a flat palm. This one attack threw her back several metres, somersaulting back over and over until she came to a rest and didn't move again.

Isaac glanced around quickly. Jacqueline and Ben were definitely down. Eileen still hadn't gotten up from the blow Tarentalas had landed on her. That left Max and himself.

Isaac slowly pulled out a bullet from his bandolier, and began pushing it into his gun, when suddenly he felt the displacement of air that told him Tarentalas had just teleported near to him. He turned quickly, and got a fist under the chin as a reward. The uppercut threw him into the air two metres, and he dropped his gun as he hit the ground hard. The Longbarrel slid along the ground several feet to rest at Diesel's feet, the only one of the guard who hadn't backed off at the vampire's flare. He slid a foot underneath it, and lifted the gun to his hand, twirling it around. Then, he shoved it into a holster at his hip, and stood by to watch the battle.

Maxwell's spear was at the ready as he watched Tarentalas several metres away from him. They simply stood there, staring at each other for a short time, and then Maxwell's legs bunched up, and he jumped the distance at frightening speeds. Still, the vampire disappeared an instant before his spear would've thudded into him. Max spun around in midair, and saw the vampire sailing through the air with him, just above. Tarentalas punched at him, and Max caught it. The force threw him into the earth, slowing there flight. The bangaa managed to keep enough of his mind about him to lob the fiend at the ground behind him.

Just before he would've hit the ground, Tarentalas disappeared into darkness, and came up in a perfect standing position standing over Maxwell. He lifted his blade above his head, and brought it down in a crushing blow. Max caught it on his spear, which he had managed remarkably to hold onto. He forced the blade up higher, then twirled the spear in his hands, attempting to trip up the vampire. Tarentalas, however, simply teleported again, and Max took the opportunity to rock back onto his shoulders and push back up onto his feet.

As he came up, Tarentalas showed himself, directly before him. He punched, and Maxwell ducked, and came up spitting flames at the vampire lord. Tarentalas was already gone.

Max stood, waiting, looking about him for any sign of his foe. A confused look crossed his face when he saw no trace.

"Look up," a voice said.

Max looked up, and brought his hands up in a desperate block as Tarentalas dropped down with a mighty punch. Maxwell caught it in both hands, and fell to his knees with the force. Tarentalas stood above the kneeling dragoon, smiling down at him with the black sword in his hand.

"And now to bring this little upset to an end," he whispered.

The sword fell, aimed directly for Maxwell's neck.

_Ka-chunk!_

Tarentalas's eyes widened in shock. He stood up suddenly, forgetting Maxwell. Turning around, he faced Diesel, who held Isaac's Longbarrel out, its barrel smoking.

"What is the meaning of this?" Tarentalas demanded.

"It's called an insurrection, kupo," Diesel replied. "Live with it."

"You should know better than any that I cannot die by normal means," Tarentalas laughed cruelly. "You have just wasted your life."

"Really?" Diesel asked.

Tarentalas suddenly fidgeted, and his eyes went wide. His hand flew to the hole in his back where the bullet had entered, as light erupted from it.

"How…?"

"I made a bullet just for you, _sir_," the moogle smiled evilly. "Pure silver melted down from an abandoned church's cross. Religious symbols of banishment engraved into the sides. Filled with holy water."

Tarentalas's eyes showed, probably for the first time for his extremely long existence, fear. "No," he whispered, and then screamed as loud as he could, "**_NO_**!" He moved towards Diesel, apparently with the intention of taking the moogle with him. However, he hadn't gone half a metre when he suddenly screamed in pain. He bent backwards slightly, as light began ripping through his waxy skin.

Isaac, Eileen and Jacqueline all managed to slowly sit up in pain as he continued to deteriorate. His cloak and clothing was totally gone now, leaving only a few bits of skin on his torso and arms and his hole head. Suddenly, the light exploded out through his eyes, and the rest of his skin quickly followed, leaving only a dark nexus hanging in the air where his brain should have been. The light gathered around it, and, after a moment of pressing at it, swallowed the core of evil whole.

There was a long period of silence as they all stared on at where the evil lord had been but a moment earlier. The first sound heard was a strangled sob, and all eyes turned to Maxwell. He breathed in, and breathed out slowly. He glanced around at his friends; Isaac, who was getting shakily to his feet and spitting out a tooth; Jacqueline, who was standing, but coughing very hard from the blow; Ben, smoke rising from his still motionless but breathing body; and Eileen, rubbing the back of her head and cracking her neck. They had come for him. They had fought to set him free.

And they had won.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A/N: I'd just like to mention that the Tarentalas fight scene lasted four pages. _FOUR PAGES_! Please, tell me if it's too long or too exhausting. I'm kinda nervous about it. Thanks.


	36. Consequences

Oh, right, a few things I forgot:

Thing the first: The rewrite of the intro was a suggestion from Sage. Thank you very much for that.

And now for a disclaimer, which I should've written a LONG time ago. I do not own Final Fantasy Tactics Advance or any of its characters or locations. The only things I own in this story are my characters, but not really, because four out of five of them are races created and owned by Square Enix. Ah well, I don't own anything. There we go.

* * *

Isaac blinked rapidly and covered his eyes as he walked up into the light for the first time in over a week. He wasn't sure how long they'd been down in the jagd, but it felt like it was an eternity. He felt much heavier with all of the equipment he was carrying. His blade was shoved comfortably into his normal sheath at his right hip, his Longbarrel slung over his back, and his two new revolvers in their holsters at his sides. The light wind felt incredibly refreshing across his fur, and his wings ruffled softly at the sight of the sky again.

"Goodbye to eternal damnation!" Ben laughed as he ran up into the light. There were still bandages on his face and hands from the vampire's flare. His injuries were the principle reason for their extended stay in the depths. Diesel had insisted that their injuries be taken care of before they left.

"Speak for yourself," Eileen muttered, right beside him. "I think we should've stayed there and finished the job."

"Should be thankful Diesel let us live," Jacqueline retorted. "We did better than I'd 'spected."

"Either way," Maxwell said, shielding his face from the light, "I will one day return there."

"What for, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"To destroy the Colliseum."

Isaac nodded. He had been surprised, to say the least, when Diesel had announced that he would continue the operation of the Colliseum, assuming control now that his former employer was dead. He still wasn't completely sure on where he stood with Diesel. Physically, and in their interests, they were very similar. And yet…

No, he thought, they were complete opposites in their minds and their morals. Isaac would never kill. Diesel had killed six warriors with absolutely no hesitation. No, in fact, it seemed as though he had actually enjoyed slaughtering them.

However, Isaac couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, there was something fundamentally the same between them. He had seen what he could possibly become one day, and it disgusted him.

"Let's please just forget about that for now, kupo," Isaac pleaded. "We're finally together. It took us over a year and way more effort than I care to think about to get here. Let's not waste it."

"Right," Eileen agreed. "So, what _are _we going to do, then?"

They all stopped at that little remark. None of them, not Isaac who'd been fighting to reunite his friends for so long, not Eileen with all her keen intellect, not Ben who had simply been longing for his girlfriend, not Jacqueline who desired high adventure, and not Maxwell who had been dreaming of freedom for months, had considered what they would do when they finally got what they wanted.

"We _could _join a clan…" Isaac began.

"No," came the answer from the other four all at once. Isaac nodded in agreement. He didn't want to join one either.

"Go around aimlessly adventuring?" Ben suggested.

"'d rather actually have something to work to," Jacqueline disagreed. "We've got a lot o' potential, and I don't wanna waste it."

"Become journying heroes?" Max supplied.

"Uh…" Ben began.

"But that is not really our style, is it?" Max said for him.

"No," Ben nodded.

"How about for now we just go back to Cadoan?" Eileen suggested. "Once we're there, we can decide on something."

"Kupo," Isaac agreed. "We should get started. Unless we can meet up with a caravan or something else like that along the way, it'll be a two and a half week journey, kupo."

They all nodded, and the five headed off into the lightly forested region just outside of the cave. They all slowly noticed something as they went. They noticed the strange way Isaac's eyes roamed the trees around and above them, keeping off a bit to the side of the others. They noticed Ben a few paces ahead of everyone else, his eyes observing the forest floor and sniffing occasionally. They noticed Jacqueline slightly behind the others walking casually, but with her hand occasionally twitching over to the hilt of her rapier. They noticed Maxwell, standing tall and proud, his step confident and his spear working as an easy walking stick. They noticed Eileen, standing at the very center of them, and the way that they all naturally seemed to keep a watch on her.

After about an hour of walking, Isaac simply stopped and shook his head, muttering, "This is too bizarre."

"What?" Ben asked.

"This," Eileen responded for him, sweeping her arms out to show all of them. "The way it seems not just that we've been together for the past year, but that we've also been living here our entire lives, marching through forests and acting as a fighting unit."

"I agree," Maxwell nodded. "There is something strange about it."

"Strange," Jacqueline said. "Natural, though."

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Ben demanded. They all looked over at him. He had his right sabre out, and was twirling it around his hands in a complicated series of circles, releases and catches, and occasional thrusts. He began speaking. "Before I came here, there was no way I would _ever _be able to do this with a worked piece of steel. Before I sat down on the curb to wait for the bus, I'd hurt myself with a sword. Then," he stopped his routine suddenly, holding his sabre out straight in front of him. He held the blue weapon out so perfectly straight that it seemed like a literal extension of his blue-sleeved arm. "Then, that light hit, and it made me so much stronger and changed so much about me. You guys might not have noticed it because of slightly more," he paused for a moment, searching for a word, "_evident _changes, but I felt it. My muscles, my mind, my instincts." He remained quiet for a few more moments, then, just as suddenly as it had stopped, the sabre leapt to movement, going up into the air and landing upside down in Ben's hand. He shoved the sabre back into its sheath, and whispered, "If that light managed to make such a difference in me, in you, and in this entire world so dramatically, then, well," he shrugged, and looked back at them, smirking, "What's to say it didn't give us pasts? Eileen, Jacqueline, the two of you know yours out of luck more than anything. Isaac, you must have been involved with airshipping, in some way. Maxwell, you were probably a dragoon already. And me?" He shrugged. "I guess I was just a lowly thief."

The other four stood watching him for a moment. Ben was normally the type who held his real and deep thoughts in, not allowing anybody else to know them. As far as Isaac, Eileen and Maxwell were concerned, they all assumed that Ben simply kept all of his feelings between himself and Jacqueline.

"Was almost home when the change struck," Jacqueline muttered. "Just up the street. Then there was the light from behind, and, well, it got all confusing. Then everything was changing, faster than I could see. Then I was in the ring, and, well…" She grinned, that evil little grin she possessed which seemed to say, _I'm going to eat you_. "The rest is history."

"I do not remember my change," Maxwell said simply, shrugging. "It was so long ago."

They were all quiet for several long minutes after that. Each one was thinking the same thing, and it took a very long time for Eileen to finally vocalize it for all of them.

"I guess the question now is," she said, "do we still actually know each other?"

Isaac opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. Did he truly know any of them? Since they had gotten to this new world, so much had changed in all of them. Maxwell had been forced into fights to the death for the entertainment of others, and now seemed so incredibly powerful and dark. Jacqueline was a public figure; famous, intelligent, independent and powerful. Eileen had been fighting for equality in a male-dominated society and going on research missions with some of the greatest spellcasters of all time. Even Ben, with whom Isaac had spent the most time with since the change, had told Isaac very little of his apparently shadowed past, from bein adopted into a thieves' guild, rising in the ranks, and breaking away to live a hermit's life. The moogle suddenly felt very small and young in the presence of his incredibly great and powerful friends. He was just a weak hanger-on. What was he doing amongst these gods?

"Bullocks," Isaac said suddenly, shocking everybody from their revories. "This won't happen, kupo."

"Whatcha mean?"

"I mean that I've worked way too bloody hard getting us all back together to let us fall apart so quickly, kupo. So, from here on in, I'm imposing a new rule, kupo."

"And what would that rule be?" Ben asked, looking at him as though he was watching a mildly amusing but mostly annoying comedy skit.

"From now until we get back to Cadoan, each one of us has to tell one story about ourselves every day, kupo," Isaac declared.

"Er, sorry, Isaac," Ben muttered, "but I'm not sure that we'll be able to come up with a story for every day."

"Are you kidding, kupo? You've got an extra four months of time you've spent in this world. I think that _I'll _be the one with the most problems."

"I like this idea," Maxwell said. "I want to know about what the four of you have been doing. My stories, however," he shook his head, "they would not be the kind you would like to hear."

"They don't have to be, kupo," Isaac said. "None of us have had a perfect ride while we've been here."

Isaac waited, and when there was no further criticism, he said, "Alright, every day then. I can start."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Three days later, Ben, who was still walking a few steps before them, called out, "We've reached the road!"

The other four let out a small cheer. All of them were getting bored of the kilometres of roots and undergrowth they were having to wade through. There was a general sentiment that if they met the path, they would keep to it for the rest of the journey.

"So how long now?" Ben asked, looking back.

"Only about fourteen days, then," Eileen said cheerfully.

"Now I remember why I used to just stay in the forest all the time."

"That," Jacqueline nodded, "and the thieves that wanted your head."

"Right…" Ben muttered.

"Shall we make our way onto the actual path, then?" Maxwell asked.

"Sounds good, kupo," Isaac said, and took the first step out onto the parth.

_Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhthunk!_

Isaac's foot stopped moving an inch before the ground, as there was a rather sharp arrow sticking out of the earth in his way. There was an instant of silence as all five of them stared on, and then Isaac dove backwards, out of the way of an arrow aimed for his head.

Isaac drew his guns when he picked himself back up, while Ben, Jacqueline and Maxwell all walked past him with their weapons out.

Ben led the way cautiously out onto the path, his sabres out and up. He knew that the five of them were quite proficient warriors, but there was no point in being careless. He looked about him, scanning the trees around him and the path. Down the path, behind a bit of bush, was a small fleck of white, far more pure and clean than was normal in such a forest. He grinned, and was about to turn back to nod to his two companions, when a shadow fell from the trees above him with a katana in its hands.

Ben jumped out of the way the moment he saw it, holding his sabres out to parry the falling blow. Despite the shock from the impact of weapons and the quick fall, the figure managed to spin around and get off another quick strike with the weapon. Ben blocked it just before his face with one sabre, and slipped the other weapon in to stab at the figure. The figure easily dodged out of the way of the blow, and, as it moved, slipped its foot behind Ben's leg. In a quick and easy movement, the figure brought the foot forward and knocked Ben off his feet.

The figure was about to finish Ben off, but Jacqueline stepped up and took the blow with her rapier. She struck out, even faster than the figure could, but the dark figure still managed to parry the blow. The figure took a quick step back, and darkness began gathering around its unarmed hand, becoming a smoking cloud. The hand came forward, and was about to hit Jacqueline, when Max simply reached forward and grabbed the wrist. His other bare hand came forward and punched the enemy in the face.

The cloaked figure fell back, and as she did so the hood of the cloak came off. Jacqueline and Max were about to take her out, now officially identified as a viera, when Ben said incredulously, "Jocelyn?"

Max and Jacqueline stared on in shock as the assassin stood up slowly and brushed herself off. She looked over at Ben, and said quite simply, "It's you."

"Er, yeah," Ben replied. "Why is it you always try to kill us when we meet?"

"Bad luck," she shrugged. Then she looked back up the path, and called out, "They're friends."

"What took you so long to figure it out?" Marche asked, as he immerged from the bushes, sheathing his knightsword.

"I felt like fighting," Jocelyn answered, as though it were a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"Right," the boy said. "That's the best you can come up with?"

Jocelyn didn't respond, instead choosing to walk off to the back of the rest of the clan's caravan.

Marche shook his head, muttering something under his breath. Then, he looked up at the three of them standing there. "I apologize about that," the boy muttered. "She was _supposed _to figure out who was there…"

"Introductions?" Jacqueline requested.

"Right," Ben said. "Maxwell and Jacqueline, this is Marche Radiuju of Clan Nutsy. Marche, these are Maxwell the Dragoon, and Jacqueline the Scarlet Rapier."

"So you finally managed to get to them?"

"Yep," Ben said, pride on his face.

"And none of you died?"

"None of us," Eileen answered for Ben, as she and Isaac walked out onto the path.

"Ah, Isaac and Eileen," Marche nodded. "Good to see you two again."

"Same," Eileen nodded. "It feels great to not be diced meat for a vampire."

"Well that needs a bit of an explanation, kupo," Montblanc muttered as he walked up. He held a long and gnarled wooden staff with a yellow gem stuck into the tip. After Marche turned to nod to him, he continued, "I was just talking with the others. If you guys don't mind, they want to get going as soon as possible, kupo. We should be meeting with Caitlin and Lindsay at Cadoan, and the new recruits are nervous without the full crew here, kupo."

"Right," Marche replied. He looked back to the five friends, and said, "I'd like to get to know the rest of you better, but like Montblanc said, we're on a bit of a schedule."

"Understood, kupo," Isaac nodded. "We're going to Cadoan too. Mind if we tag along?"

"That'd be great," Marche said, smiling. "You can give Montblanc the explanation for that vampire thing, then."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Late that night, the group sat at a campfire. Isaac had just returned from his turn at the watch, to be replaced by a young archer by the name of Stewart. As he took a seat between Robert and Eileen, Marche said, "Well, let's get down to it, then. We want to hear about what you've all been doing since we left."

Isaac looked at his other four friends around the ring of the campfire. All around, there were about twenty members of Clan Nutsy there. "You guys haven't told them yet, kupo?"

"You were there from the beginning," Eileen shrugged from beside him.

"And you have always had a flair for the dramatics," Max nodded.

Eileen slowly placed an arm around Isaac's shoulders, and the moogle suddenly found he couldn't resist anymore. "Alright," he sighed, wondering how many times he would thank Famfrit for his concealing fur. That arm felt so warm against him.

He began with the journey to the jagd, on their first attempt to rescue Maxwell. They had told the bangaa about the event a few days before, and he had said that he was alright with it. However, the proud dragoon still had to look away when he heard that he had a chance to escape several months earlier.

He got all the way to the part when they had been planning the breakout without interruption, when Montblanc suddenly looked up and said, "Wait, kupo. What was the name of that prisoner?"

"Uh, Caesar…" Jacqueline began.

"Oh Mateus," Marche muttered in shock. "It was you guys?"

"Yeah, why?" Ben asked, his face beginning to look concerned.

Marche shook his head slowly. "You guys…" he stopped, then began again. "I think you guys should sit down."

"What is it?" Eileen asked, standing slowly up. Isaac was more concerned with her arm leaving his shoulders than the current events, but he still paid attention to Marche.

"There've been, uh…"

"Murders, kupo," Montblanc finished for him. "Horrible murders."

"Don't tell me…" Ben muttered.

"Yeah, it's him, kupo."

"Dammit."

"Where'd the murders happen?" Jacqueline asked.

"There have been three of them," Robert said, standing up slowly. "Mossst have happened in Sssssprohm, but there wass alssso one in Cyril."

"Who, kupo?" Isaac asked, looking up at him.

"The three in Ssssprohm were two high ranking guardsss, and one wasss actually a judge."

The five companions all stopped breathing and stared at the bangaa templar for a moment. "Did you sssssssay 'a judge'?" Maxwell demanded, his hiss returning with his fear.

"Yeah," Marche nodded, seeming to have found his voice again. "A human, very strong. Majored equally in Black magic and fighter techniques. He was originally awarded his position for the part he played capturing Caesar."

Ben uttered a few more choice words while Eileen asked, "Who was the other?"

"Leader of Cyril's Clan of Thieves."

"Are you bloody kidding me, kupo!?" Isaac demanded.

"Also Caesar's former student and traveling companion."

"Any other happy news to give?" Jacqueline drawled, rolling her eyes.

"Yes," Marche whispered. "The Judgemaster Cid and several of the palaces best trained guards tried to take him down."

"What happened?" Jacqueline inquired.

"Three guards killed, and then he managed to get away from the others."

Silence reigned around the camp for a very long while after that. After about ten seconds of standing in silence, Ben got up and walked out of the area of the fire's light, and Jacqueline quickly chased after him. Eileen had returned to her sitting position, kneading her forehead with a palm. Max simply stared into fire, the flames reflecting and dancing in his eyes. Isaac got up very slowly, and softly placed his hand on Eileen's shoulder. She looked up at him, and he saw that same firm resolve he felt within himself.

"Well," he sighed, and everybody's eyes went over to him. "As soon as Jacqueline and Ben get back, kupo, we should be heading out."

"What?" several voices around the fire said at once, but Marche simply nodded.

"We have unleashed this on the world," Maxwell said, his low voice barely audible above the crackling of the fire. "It is our responsibility to see it ended."

"You'll get yourselves killed," Montblanc objected.

"Probably," Eileen shrugged.

"He's stronger than any of you can imagine," the moogle went on.

"Bring it on," Ben said, as he and Jacqueline returned to the light.

"Well, in that case," Marche said before anybody else could voice any objections, "you have our support. If at any point you need us, we'll be spending a few weeks up in the Kudik Peaks training the newbies. Come and find us there."

"Thanks," Isaac said, getting up and dusting himself off. "We'll come and meet you guys as soon as we're done dealing with him, kupo."

The five of them gave quick goodbyes, then grabbed their packs from the campsite. They went without light, heading down the path in the direction of Cyril. They all realized that Ben would probably be able to get more information out of the thieves than all of them would be able to get from the Sprohm guards with their stunning reputations. It was extremely dangerous, they knew, but hey, what was one more risk.

Thus, they were adventuring again.


	37. First Meeting

They made incredible time, managing to get to Cyril in only one week. Their good weather held out until the last day of journeying, when a general chill came across the land. Winter was approaching, and they all realised that from now on, travel would be much more difficult. The leaves would be turning colour in about a week, and then it wouldn't be too long until they began falling.

"Let's make this quick," Ben muttered, shuddering as they got into the city limits. His cloak was done up tight, in order to keep the warmth in. "Does anybody have any plans on how we're going to be going about this, by the way?"

"Can't say I've been working on it," Jacqueline replied. "Bit of a complicated situation."

"Going to a thieves' guild just after their leader has been horribly murdered," the ninja said, rolling his eyes. "I've done harder things."

"I'm choosing _not_ to challenge that," Eileen muttered. "I'll be horrified when you manage to explain."

"Well, all we need is a good enough plan. Anybody have one?"

"Why don't you just climb in through the window, kupo?" Isaac asked jokingly.

"I like it," Ben nodded seriously, then looked over at a building to their right. "I believe that's it."

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded, as they all turned to look at the building which Ben had gestured towards. It was plain, just like all of the other buildings in the city. Perhaps a bit taller, but nothing very apparent about it.

"I memorized how all of the headquarters of the major thieves' guilds look when I was still with the Cadoan group," Ben explained. "Shall we wait for nightfall, or just go in now?"

"I believe that we should waste no time," Maxwell answered before the others. "We have very limited time, especially if we can manage to find out any future targets. We should try for the most time to save them in as possible."

"Okay then," Ben nodded, rubbing his hands together for good luck as he looked up at the top window of the building. "I think I can do this. You four keep watch."

"I don't believe this," Eileen muttered as he began walking towards the building. "He's actually about to do it, isn't he?"

"He _was _a professional thief for seven or so months of a kupo thieves' guild," Isaac said helpfully. "He probably did this sort of thing all the time."

"That," Maxwell nodded, a small smirk on his face, "or he may have simply wished to be rid of the cold."

"That too," Isaac conceded.

"Speakin' of which," Jacqueline said, looking over at the bangaa. "Aren't you s'posed to be a lizard?"

"I am."

"Well, why aren't you cold?"

"Along with being a lizard," Maxwell muttered, "I have a few distinctly draconic tendencies." To illustrate his point, he let a tiny puff of smoke out of his nostrils.

"Ah, right."

Meanwhile, Ben had reached the other side of the street, and was approaching the building directly to the left of the Thieves' Guild Headquarters. He sized the thing up for a moment, then walked into the short alleyway between the two houses. Pausing for a moment to look up at the height, he took a deep breath, and jumped, hooking his hands into the thick ivy going up the side.

Once he had a good enough grip, Ben began climbing slowly. He was used to this sort of thing, and it wasn't too much of a challenge. He and Ridley had been principally assigned to thieveries which required roof access. As a result, one of the first things he learned as a thief was the art of parcour; climbing where there were no handholds, jumping gaps over fatal heights and then landing in perfect balance on a relatively small beam, moving over random landscape without breaking stride, improvising on instinct when there was no other option. Having ivy there just made it easy. In about thirty seconds, he was up to the top of the building, standing on the edge of the roof. He looked across at the other building, judging how he should do this. There was a thin gutter along the top of the building, which he was pretty sure he could hold on to and use to sidle over to the window on the other side of the building. That might work…

He leapt, and grabbed it. There was something odd about it. It wasn't attached terrible tightly, but he thought it might hold. He began making his way over, going hand over hand, slowly. Wow, people would probably start staring as soon as he rounded the corner. Still, it seemed like the best way…

"Hello, Benjamin."

Ben slowly gazed upwards towards the voice, wondering where it could have come from. His eyes settled on the figure, and his heart stopped beating for an instant from pure fear.

"I see you're investigating the murders," Caesar whispered, smirking. "I can't have that, now can I?"

"Crap," Ben said, biting his lip. This was going to hurt.

Caesar drew out a long, lightly blue tinted katana, and raised it over his head, preparing to stab it into Ben's unprotected head. Taking a deep breath, Ben pulled the only manoeuvre he could possibly think of in the situation.

He let go.

Ben began falling, but he slipped his foot out to kick the wall of the closer building. This slowed him a bit, and threw him backwards at the other wall. As he approached, Ben spun full around and kicked that wall. As he fell, not quite as quickly as before, his hand flew to his sash, and he drew a judgepoint.

"I declare an engagement!"

Now, Ben thought, he could let loose. Claws flew out from his fingers, and he dug them into the wall, slowing his fall dramatically. However, as soon as he did it, he felt something cracking in his left arm. He cried out and let go with that arm, dangling there halfway down the building. He looked up, and saw Caesar falling towards him. Groaning, he gathered magic into his left hand and flung it upward, biting back his scream of pain. A swirling twister flew up to meet the renegade. Caesar, however, simply reached down with his foot to touch the wall. Pushing off to the side, Caesar rolled out of the way of the wind, and came on downward.

Ben once again let go of the wall, and fell the rest of the distance with Caesar in very close pursuit. Just as he was about to hit the ground, a strong hand grabbed Ben and stopped his fall. He looked over towards whoever had caught him, and saw Maxwell standing there, his spear ready in his other hand.

_Dammit, _Ben thought in annoyance, _why is it that he always gets the cool poses?_

"Come on…" Maxwell whispered, then swung his spear to bat Caesar out of the air.

Caesar, not in the least bit surprised, reached down and grabbed onto the spearshaft. Then, in a feet of gymnastics which amazed both Ben and Maxwell beyond anything they'd ever seen, he pulled himself out of his fall by swinging around the pole, managing to finish by kicking Maxwell right in the face.

The force of the kick dropped the mighty bangaa, and both he and Ben fell back against the wall. Caesar landed easily in a standing position, grinning at the two fallen warriors.

"Is that all that you can bring?" he asked, shaking his head in disgust.

"_Wasser!_"

Caesar spun, and his katana slashed through the globe of water Eileen had thrown at him. The thing fell apart into a simple splash as Jacqueline and Isaac rushed forward with their swords out. Before either could make an attack, Caesar pulled a full spin, slashing and keeping both at bay. As he finished his turning, he was facing Eileen, and the water from her attack.

It had yet to hit the ground.

He pointed at her, and whispered something. The water stopped falling, and flew instead towards Eileen. It went into her mouth, and the nu mou bent over, choking.

With only the two of them left, Isaac and Jacqueline came in hard and fast. When they were no more than two metres away from the ninja, Isaac pulled up short and drew one of his six-shot pistols. He began firing, forcing Caesar in a complex series of dodges to avoid them. Using the distraction to her advantage, Jacqueline made four quick thrusts at him, working in concert with Isaac so that the two of them were attacking in the conventional spot for the ninja to dodge the other's attacks.

Somehow, in movements which dazzled both of the incredibly accurate fighters, Caesar always managed to position himself perfectly to fall in the tiny space between the two attacks. He spun around the first thrust, pulling in his right arm out of the way of a bullet. Then, he jumped up, doing the splits over Jacqueline's second thrust and bending his waist back as a bullet flew by overhead. Using the momentum from this, he pulled himself into a tight tuck, flipping backward and out of the way of the third thrust and pulling out of the tuck and ducking just in time to get out of the way of Isaac's second-to-last bullet. The final thrust Caesar caught with his katana, while the final bullet he caught with his hand.

Then, with ease and skill which made Jacqueline look like an amateur, Caesar spun his katana around once or twice, disengaging the sabre, and, stepping forward, he ran Jacqueline through to the hilt.

Jacqueline coughed up blood once, then fell to the ground, taking Caesar's katana with her. Caesar looked up, to find Isaac standing there, holding his blade in a sweaty palm before him.

Grinning, the ninja stepped forward. Isaac slashed horizontally across at him, attempting to keep him at bay. Caesar, however, simply jumped and spun sideways over the blade. His right foot touched the ground pointed, and he pulled a perfect pirouette, finishing by kicking Isaac in the face with his outstretched left foot. The blow instantly shattered the moogle's nose and threw him back three metres, knocked unconscious.

Caesar grinned maliciously at the five warriors around him. Jacqueline was dead, Isaac and Maxwell unconscious, Ben going into shock from both his broken arm and the weight of a fully grown bangaa on top of him, and Eileen totally disabled in her present state.

Smiling, he walked slowly up to the nu mou, enjoying the view of her sputtering. As he reached her, she stepped back, but he simply reached out and grabbed her around the throat and dragged her back.

"Well then," he whispered. "If the five of you truly wish to know what I'm doing, I will tell you." He leaned his face in very close to hers, and if it hadn't been for the spell upon her, Eileen would have whimpered in terror at the sight of those empty, uncaring eyes. He went on, and his face showed that he truly enjoyed his own words. "I want… vengeance. I am claiming vengeance on all those who were responsible for my incarceration, first. And then, well…" he giggled, which only frightened the nu mou all the more. "Then I'll get revenge on everybody else."

Eileen gasped something, as though trying to speak. The ninja grinned, and said very slowly, "You wish to know why I'm telling you this, don't you?" When she nodded weakly, he went on, "Well, I tell you, I find it boring when I go to kill somebody, particularly those involved with my arrest who are all incredibly powerful and skilled, and find them unprepared and unworthy. They are weak, and I take no pleasure in their deaths. Now, my old travelling companion Raphael, he was slightly more intelligent." He nodded up to the window which Ben had intended to use. "He had one of his lieutenants who looks surprisingly alike to him in his office the night I originally came to kill him. I used my," his eyes glinted for a moment, "_special _method of killing on that pawn instead of him, and thus, I stole the wrong soul. So, I had to return today and right my mistake, taking the correct soul instead." Eileen's eyes were wide now, and Caesar saw the question in her eyes. "Why am I actually stealing their souls? Well," he laughed. "I can't tell you everything, now can I? That's for you five to figure out. Now, I've slipped a paper into your pocket with the names of all my future victims. From here on in, it is a game," he laughed once again at her shocked look. "You find it disgusting that I am making a game out of people's lives and souls? I suppose it is. But," his grip tightened on her throat, and she could no longer gather air to her lungs, "you'd better play my game. For the sake of the remaining four on that list."

With that, he drove his knee violently into her stomach. The blow sent the air from her lungs, and she bent over in agony with several cracked ribs. Then, in an easy movement, Caesar brought his elbow down upon the back of her head so violently that her neck broke, and she was dead before she hit the ground.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

(A/N): A special thanks to White Iguana, who was responsible for my introduction to the phenomenon of parcour (yes, it is real, I didn't make it up. Look it up (amazement abounding awaits you!)).

Also, I know this chapter is short, but that's because I wanted to get one more chapter up before Christmas, and this is as far as I could go.

In other news, Casualties is now officially over a year old! YAAAAAAAY! I've been writing this baby for over a year now! So many nights spent in front of the computer typing, so many boring classes spent scrawling down random background info on every character, event and location in my made up version of Ivalice, so many presses of the Spellcheck button, so many…

Aww… I gotta get myself a girl, dammit.


	38. The Inquisitor

"Isaac, might I borrow your blade!?"

Without a thought, Isaac drew his blade and tossed it in the direction of Maxwell's voice, then lined up his gun and pulled the trigger. His target, a blue ahriman which the moogle had already pummeled with dozens of bullets, dropped from the sky and plummeted to the earth. Isaac didn't even pause to watch, turning instead to see Maxwell sweep the feet out from under a lightly armoured human fighter with his spear. Before he could hit the ground, Maxwell brought Isaac's blade down in his other hand, plunging it through the man's chest.

The two companions caught their judgepoints, pushing them into their sashes as they approached each other.

"That went quite well," Maxwell said, wiping blood off of Isaac's blade.

"That it did, kupo," Isaac nodded, taking the weapon and returning it to its sheath. "We make a pretty good team."

"Agreed, though I would prefer it if we were not forced to do battle with rogue jagd clans every step of the way."

"Without a doubt, kupo," Isaac muttered, standing up and looking at the path. "I guess we should split up now. Good luck with catching up to Clan Nutsy."

"And you with finding the Inquisitor," Maxwell replied. With that, he turned, twirling his spear, and leapt into the trees, towards the far off summits of the Kudik Peaks.

Isaac watched him go, his form appearing above the trees every time he made another jump. Once the form was nothing more than a speck, the gunner turned away and began walking down the road. He had to be quick, if he wanted to get away before the clan awoke from their defeat and he had to take them on again on his own.

The sky was bright, and a small wind was playing through the trees. Isaac realised that this was actually the first time since he'd been on the airship that he would be doing a mission or a job on his own without the aid of his friends. The idea was a bit intimidating, considering the task, and the potential enemy, that was before him, but he didn't mind. He loved his friends, but some times he needed to get away from them and be alone for a while. This journey was the perfect opportunity for that.

The young moogle reflected back on the conversation that he and the others had had upon their awakenings, just before splitting up. Of course, first, they had had to escape the assembled crowd. The street fight against the well-known criminal had brought out dozens of people to watch. Fortunately, (for once) they had received help from the town guard. The guards had gotten them away from the crowds, and then, after asking them what had happened, asked them not to interfere or try to hunt down Caesar. For their own safety, of course.

The unsaid answer of all five was quite predictable.

Isaac pulled out the list which Eileen had made for each of them. It was copied from a paper which Caesar had slipped into Eileen's pocket at the end of the battle, apparently, his 'hit list'.

Isaac surveyed the list slowly, for perhaps the dozenth time. It had come as a shock to all of them that, between them, they knew nearly every name on the list. Next to each target was scribbled the name of the one responsible for tracking them down and warning them.

Professor Auggie Carmel - Eileen 

_High Inquisitor Chaucer Hirochi - Isaac_

_Lord Pallanza the Many-Bladed - Maxwell_

_The Unnamed Mogknight – whoever manages to find him_

Isaac sighed, thinking for perhaps the thousandth time that he had the most difficult assignment. Eileen and Maxwell were going to warn close friends of a pressing attack. Jacqueline and Ben were attempting to figure out what Caesar could possibly be doing with ten souls. Isaac, well, he had to go upto a high ranking official for the palace with whom he'd been engaged in mortal battle and tell him that some guy was coming to steal his soul in some sort of excessively elaborate revenge plot.

Not the easiest thing.

Shaking his head, Isaac glanced at the sun, judging its position in the sky. He probably had four hours to reach the city before dark. After his three days journeying with Isaac, Maxwell would have to go for two days just to reach the Peaks, and then it would probably take him several days to find Marche and the others. Eileen was going to have the longest journey, having to cross a mountain range early in her trip, and then going along a long path to Cadoan. Forunately, she had managed to purchase a chocobo to carry her the distance, so it would take her about three more days.

Isaac turned his head slightly to look at the path behind him, and groaned in annoyance. On the horizon, he could see massive, dark clouds looming up. The moogle grudgingly licked his finger and stuck it up into the air.

_Crap, _he thought, turning back to the path. _The wind just has to be coming this way._ Grudgingly, he just accepted it as yet another reason for him to get into the city before nightfall.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Thunder crashed as Isaac stumbled into the city of Sprohm, the wind buffeting him violently from side to side. It was very late that night, and Isaac knew that the only thing keeping him awake was the intensely cold wind and rainwater. His weapons felt heavier than they usually did, weighing him down as he stumped forward.

_The stupidest thing about this_, Isaac thought glumly, _is that this rain probably gives my best chance to find Chaucer._

Upon reaching the city's midsized dock, Isaac pushed open its large, heavy doors, and then stumbled in, dripping water onto the hardwood floor. He sighed, shutting the doors behind him and leaving the storm outside. He shuddered once, then looked around.

During his last visit to Sprohm, when they'd been releasing Caesar, Isaac hadn't had the time to look around at the dock. It was very simple. A large, high-roofed building whose ceiling could be opened to allow the airships to sail out, it was just tall enough to fit a ship like Chaucer's _Flame_. Even at the late hour, there were a few pilots and crewmembers walking around the main docking bay, seeing to repairs or loading the next shipment onto their vessels. Shuddering, Isaac observed each one, before deciding to walk up to an official-looking viera with a long black robe on. He noted the heavy greatbow strapped to her back, and the quiver-full of arrows at her hip, and realised she must be a sniper. As he approached, he shook his head a bit, trying to make his fur slightly more dry and presentable.

"Uh, excuse me, kupo…"

"Sorry?" the sniper asked, turning to look at him. Her eyebrows rose slightly as she looked him up and down. "Did you need some help?"

"Yeah," Isaac nodded. "Do you know if the High Inquisitor Chaucer is here right now, kupo?"

"Yes, until tomorrow night," she replied. "Are you a friend of his?"

"You could say that," Isaac muttered. "Could you tell me where I'd find him, kupo? It's a bit urgent."

"Of course, he's over in the dock pub," she laughed. "Where else would an airship pilot be, if not in the air?"

"Right, thanks," Isaac said, then walked off in the direction of the pub. It was in the far corner of the dock, and easily noticeable from the bright lights and noise of raucous chattering and singing.

He walked in, then stopped and looked around for a moment in an attempt to find the bangaa. However, he was quickly forced to duck a flagon of ale, then throw himself into a sideways roll as a large human collapsed to the floor where he'd been standing a moment before. Looking up, Isaac realised just how close he'd just been to being pulled into a rather large barfight. A quick check of the combatants told Isaac that the defender wasn't involved, and he heaved a sigh of relief. It would've made his job much more difficult if the High Inquisitor had been in a fighting rage.

Rising to his feet slowly, Isaac looked around the bar, and his eyes came to rest upon two figures sitting in the corner. One of them was a hunched over nu mou in large blue robes, the yellow glow of her eyes reflected in her mug of ale. The other wore the shiny silver breastplate and tribal kilt of a defender. A huge, two-handed broadsword was leaning up against the back of his chair, glinting in the tavern's torch-light.

_Oh hell,_ Isaac thought hopelessly, _they look even more epic and all-powerful than last time. What's with this!?_

Sighing, Isaac took a very long and deep breath, then stepped over to them, keeping his head low in case of any other missiles aimed at him.

"High Inquisitor Chaucer?" Isaac asked as he casually slid into the seat next to the defender, uninvited.

"Who'ss asssking?" the bangaa muttered, barely glancing up from his drink.

"I have some information you'll want to hear, kupo."

"I believe he asked _who _you were, not why you were here," said Amelia, her eyes slowly rising up to glare at him. Isaac shuddered at how corrupt and bizarre they looked, thanking everything precious to him that Eileen didn't use Black magic.

"My name is Isaac, kupo, of _the Torrent_," he said through a dry throat.

For a moment, Chaucer said nothing, just continued sipping at his ale. Then, he said, very casually, "Oh, right. You."

Without warning, his hand shot out and wrapped around the moogle's neck, then lifted Isaac out of his chair to slam him onto the table. Amelia continued sitting there as though nothing happened, drinking her mug.

"Well, young machinissssssssst," Chaucer said, standing now and staring down at him, "looksss like you're alone thissss time. You'd better tell me why you're here."

"Please!" Isaac gasped. "He's coming—"

"Can't hear you," Chaucer told him, lifting him up and carrying him to the pub's entrance. Upon reaching it, the bangaa threw the moogle out the door, sending him flying back and landing heavily on his back. Isaac rolled end over end backwards before coming to an end on his back. He groaned in pain and began sitting up, but a massive, crushing bangaa foot on his chest pushed him back down. He looked up at Chaucer, and felt a broadsword's tip touch his throat. The bangaa was grinning down at him, his sharp teeth bared.

"You'd better ssspeak up if you want to sssssssurvive," he whispered. "What is it?"

"Caesar," Isaac barely managed to croak as Amelia walked up, a ball of lightning gathered in her hand.

"What did you ssssay?" Chaucer demanded, and Isaac noted the waver in his voice.

"Caesar is coming for you," Isaac said, his eyes wide. "He wants to kill you."

"Adrammalech…" the defender whispered, fear evident in every peace of him.

Suddenly, the sword tip was gone from his throat, and he was being grabbed up roughly by the front of his shirt.

"Amelia, go tell the deckmassssster that we're leaving immediately," he said to her, then turned his attention to Isaac. "Do you know when he'll be coming?"

"No idea, kupo," Isaac said. "I came here as quickly as I could, but he had a good three hour head start on me when I left."

"Alright, I'm short a machinisssst on my ship right now, ssssso you're coming with me. Got it?"

"Clear, kupo."

"Good, we're leaving."

"Not alive, I assure you," said a voice from behind the captain.

The three of them all turned to see a figure in a ragged, dark cloak, a naked katana bared in his right hand, and a fire of pure darkness in his left.

Chaucer dropped Isaac in his fear, and took one step back, his entire body shuddering in fear. "You…"

"Yes. And you," Caesar grinned. "It's good to see you again."

He took a step towards the shocked bangaa, grinning, and drawing his hand back for a strike.

Electricity lanced out from where Amelia was standing, clawing towards Caesar's exposed back. The ninja did a full summersault to the side and out of the way, turning in midair to face the nu mou, whose hands were glowing with magic.

"If you want him," she whispered, "you go through me."

"As you wish," Caesar replied, and lunged forward with his katana.

Isaac's blade intercepted the blow, and twirled it out far to the side. Caesar sneered down at the moogle.

"Oh, you can't be serious. You didn't last a moment last time. What makes it different?"

"My life can replace his, kupo," the mogknight replied.

"Cute," the ninja said, then pointed his left hand at Isaac. A wave of dark energy flew out and slammed into the moogle, throwing him backwards into the hull of a ship thrity feet away.

Smirking, the ninja pulled a neat backflip over the slashing broadsword of Chaucer. He landed the move standing easily behind the defender.

"Is that the best you can do, a pathetic sneak attack?" he asked.

In response, Chaucer knelt incredibly quickly, slamming his fist into the floor. The earth rippled away from him, and Caesar was forced to jump up and out of its way. The bangaa spun around, slashing at the ninja's middrift with another stunningly fast swipe with that massive, unwieldly weapon. Caesar somehow managed to pull his lower half up higher through massive muscle strength, and placed both feet lightly down on the swinging blade. They were there for only an instant, but the ninja still managed to use the perch to jump up even higher into a backflip. He raised his left hand into the air, high above those below him. Dark energy gathered around the hand, and he slowly pointed it down at Chaucer.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"No he's _not_!" Amelia yelled, and flames leapt from both her hands.

Somehow, in some way which completely defied every law of physics, Caesar managed, in midair, to throw himself over to the side and out of the way of the flames, then came down anyways his hand sheathed in darkness.

Isaac staggered back up, watching the two combatants as he held his sprained wrist. Chaucer swiped aggressively at the falling ninja as he approached, but Caesar simply blocked it one-handedly with his katana, and, once again raising his middle finger to Newton and all his laws, held the blow steady.

Then, suddenly, the hand touched Chaucer's chest, and the defender gasped in shock.

Chaucer fell to the ground, with Caesar leaning over him. The ninja smiled down at the bangaa, showing his teeth in the evilest smile of joy Isaac had ever seen.

Then, the hand simply sunk into Chaucer's chest, and Chaucer screamed the loudest and most agonized scream Isaac had ever heard. His entire body rocked with the agony, writhing and trying to roll away from that incredible grasp. Isaac clamped his hands over his ears and staggered backwards, as next to him Amelia cried out, a strange strangled sob.

The hand slowly retracted from Chaucer's chest, and it quickly became clear that it was grasping some sort of an orb or sphere. The sphere was a deep red colour, with strands of some sort of red substance swirled about within it. There was one tiny ball of brighter red at the very center of this orb.

As the orb fully left Chaucer, his body fell to the ground, as dead as anything had ever been.

The light of the little orb cast a demonic red glow across Caesar's features as he smiled. "Seven down, and one extra," he whispered.

"I'll kill you!" a voice screamed suddenly. Caesar turned to look over at Amelia. She was holding between her hands a growing ball of pure black magic, a dark nexus of destruction, fueled by nothing but pure hatred. "I'll kill you!" she repeated, and raised her hands into the air, preparing to point at Caesar and obliterate him.

Suddenly, Caesar disappeared. Isaac blinked, and it wasn't until Amelia gasped next to him that he turned. The moogle stumbled backwards when he saw the katana stuck through her chest, held in Caesar's hand.

"I…" she gasped, coughing up blood.

"Yes, you'll kill me," he smirked. "Can't do that if you're dead, though, can you?"

Then, he twisted the weapon, and ripped it out, letting the nu mou fall to the blood-stained floor.

Caesar cast a sidelong glance at Isaac, and said, "Well, you didn't too well, did you? But then again, you _are _the weakest one of your friends. Maybe they'll provide more fun. Good bye."

He jumped, and, his katana leading, he went straight through the roof.

"Crap," Isaac whispered, looking at the fallen dead companions lying next to him.

"What's going on?" asked a voice. The sniper from earlier ran up from behind him, and stared at the two bodies. "What happened?"

Isaac stood there silently for a moment, breathing slowly. Then he whispered, "I failed, kupo."

"What?"

"Nothing, kupo," Isaac said distractedly. "I have to go now."

"What? What's going on?" she demanded.

"You don't want to know," Isaac told her, then turned and headed for the doors.

"Wait!" she yelled. He turned slightly, and saw that the viera was feeling Amelia's wrist. "She's alive. My friend is a master in White magic, he can help her…"

After considering for a moment, Isaac said, interrupting her rambling, "Don't bring her back, kupo. I don't think she wants to come back."

With that, Isaac walked out into the rain, and stared up at the clouds for a moment. He allowed the rain to wash away more than just Amelia's blood. He stood there for a full ten minutes, before walking off, back out of Sprohm, heading for the predetermined meeting point back in Cyril. The others weren't going to be happy.


	39. The Professor

Eileen rode straight through the storm, pushing that chocobo harder than she'd ever pushed anything else in her life. Her heart had stopped dead upon reading the name of her old mentor, the great Professor Auggie, and a constant feed of adrenaline had prevented her from stopping since. The professor had been the main force which had kept her learning and fighting during her earliest days as an alchemist. She would never have amounted to anything if it weren't for him.

While, admittedly, she had only technically been his protégé for three months, during that time he had treated her like a daughter. He had fought hard to have her recognized as a worthy student of Alchemy, and it had also been he who had worked to get her on the same research team as the great Quin. In return, she loved him like a father. She would do anything to protect him.

To lose him would be a substantial blow to the Alchemists' Guild, as well. Auggie was a former Greatspell, and was widely considered one of the greatest spellcasters alive. He was the most respected teacher for new apprentices, each of his students having blazed paths to greatness and power. The old nu mou's uncanny ability to remember everything he saw had even lead to false rumours that he possessed a Third Eye of Insight. While this was, of course, false, it was but one of the rumours surrounding the great professor Auggie.

Eileen travelled the first day and a half of her journey without stopping, and on that second day she only stopped when the chocobo refused to go any further. Grudgingly, she hopped down off of its back, and pulled it along by its reigns to a small alcove of rocks which would shelter them from the wind. They were halfway down a path through the mountains, and already done the hardest part of their journey.

As the chocobo sat down to sleep, Eileen reached into her pack, and pulled out a heavy book, bound in thick black leather. She slowly paged through it until she found the page she wanted; the page for the spell she was currently studying. It was an extremely powerful and dark spell, a favourite among most alchemist duel specialists. The spell's name, in English, was simply "Death".

Eileen was now officially at a level of Alchemy where she could begin learning the more heavy-duty spells, known, appropriately enough, as Master Spells. One of the requirements, should she wish to become a Third Eye, was to know every alchemist spell. Thus, she had to begin the long process of learning the Master Spells.

Taking a deep breath, Eileen closed her eyes, and reached down to touch the symbol on the page. Magical symbols, in books, were always raised somewhat on the page. This was because, of course, magic was something done mainly by the feel and shaping of energy. Certain words and hand positions could help a spellcaster recall the feel of the spell, however, these were simple tricks, and not in the least bit reliable. This was why learning spells took such a long time. One had to memorize every single physical detail of a spell in order to cast it, and mould their energy into that shape with their mind. There were some weapons that one could purchase to speed the learning process; maces, staffs and rods. These were detailed not only to enhance the particularities of the spell it taught, but also had the spell's symbols engraved into their handles.

Eileen had never really used these. There was only one spell-teaching mace she had ever held, and she held it still. She reached subconsciously down with her free hand to brush the handle of the weapon, her hands tracing the familiar series of complex symbols which continued to elude her. Yes, she held it still, and she would hold it a good time longer before she ever learned _that _spell.

Eileen took her hand off of the mace, and shook her head, clearing it. Focusing all of her attention on her hand, she began placing every detail of that symbol into that hidden portion of her mind she reserved for her spells.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Several days later, Eileen arrived in Cadoan, barely awake from all of the hard riding she'd done. She had barely slept, and the wear was beginning to have an effect on her senses. Her vision was slightly blurred, and the feeling of the leather reigns for the chocobo was fuzzy, somehow. She blinked the weariness from her eyes, and turned her chocobo towards the Alchemists' Guild.

It was already very late evening, and a crescent moon was rising slowly up into the black, cloudless sky. Eileen knew how her old teacher often liked to stay there late to do research and, seeing as the Guild was closer than the nu mou's house, decided to go there first.

When Eileen jumped off of her chocobo, she actually stumbled and tripped from her exhaustion. She stood up very straight as soon as she got her balance, and brushed herself off a bit. Taking a deep breath, she walked forward, through the main doors, blinking her exhaustion away.

"Lady Mindclear!" called a voice as she stepped in. Eileen turned, and saw a young apprentice running towards her. He was younger than most of the nu mous in the entrance hall; clearly, a very new recruit. Grinning inwardly, Eileen realised that he had probably inherrited her old apprentice position after her promotion. As he approached her, the nu mou, much to Eileen's surprise, bowed. "Lady Mindclear, Master Greatspell wants you in his quarters."

She blinked again, from surprise more than anything, and pulled her thoughts out of the clouds and into the conversation. "I just got back. How can he want me already?"

"He asked that as soon as you show up that you come to his office. He said that it was urgent."

"Of course, of course," she whispered, closing her eyes and rubbing them. "But it'd better be quick. I'm in a hurry, and I need some sleep." She opened her eyes after a few more seconds of eye-rubbing, and found the apprentice still there, staring at her as he might a large cougar. "Uh… You can go."

The apprentice bobbed his head, then walked off. Eileen shook her head, and then pushed the doors open to the lecture hall. She hadn't actually had a chance to walk around the Guild as a master before she'd left on her and her friends' insane quest. Apparently, the position brought with it a certain amount of prestige amongst the apprentices.

Frankly, it was quite annoying.

There was something slightly ominous about walking through the giant, open space, completely alone. Normally, it would be filled with voices giving speeches or having great debates, while onlookers took in every word from the hundreds of seats. These, however, stood empty and shadowed lightly by the dozens of dim orbs in sconces along the walls.

Sighing, Eileen stopped reminiscing, and pushed through the doors on the opposite end of the lecture hall. The Greatspell's chambers were directly attached to the lecture hall, as they spent much of their time in that large room, giving speeches.

"Eileen?" Bartholemue looked up as she walked through the door. He was sitting at a large desk, writing something down on a long piece of parchment. He was wearing his less formal robes, a simple brown overcoat with a green gown underneath. It was not his informal appearance which caught Eileen off-guard, however. It was the fact that he used her first name. He'd never done that…

"Yes, sir?" she asked.

"Thank Ultima," he gasped. "Did anybody follow you into the theatre?"

"No, of course not, sir," she said, confused. "Is something wrong?"

"I have to warn you," he said, glancing around. "The ninja that the palace is looking for, Caesar, he came here looking for you."

She stopped breathing for a moment, and looked straight at him. "He's already been here?"

"Yes, he came here earlier today."

"And he wasn't disguised?" she demanded, incredulous.

"Oh, he was disguised," the nu mou smirked. "He had a rather powerful concealment spell on him. Fortunately, I keep these special spectacles with me for when visitors show up." He patted a pair of glasses on his desk, from which Eileen could feel a considerable magical aura. "I saw directly through it."

"Dammit," she whispered, then yawned. She staggered slightly, then straightened her back, and shook her head once again. "I need to go. Now."

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"He wants Professor Auggie. He's going to kill him," she said, and turned around to leave.

"But you cannot go alone!" Bartholemue objected.

"Then send somebody with me," she said, pushing the door open. "I won't let him die."

" 'Send somebody'?" Bartholemue scoffed, hopping out of his seat. " 'Somebody' will not be enough to hold him off. I will come with you."

"Knock yourself out," she muttered, walking out into the empty lecture hall, while he grabbed his Alchemist robes and hat, tossing them on quickly.

"You should really learn to use more formal language than that," he scolded.

"No, I was serious. Please knock yourself ou—"

All of a sudden, Bartholemue's hand grabbed the back of her robe and yanked her back. Being tired and off-balance already, Eileen toppled back, landing on top of the Greatspell. Even as she did so, a figure in a dark cloak landed where she'd been standing an instant before, a katana where her head would have been.

There were several seconds of silence as Eileen panted with the sudden adrenaline spike. Then, Caesar looked slowly up at them, smirking, and said, "Surprise."

"Eileen," Bartholemue said calmly, releasing his white-knuckled grip on her robe, and standing up perfectly straight. "Go back into my study. There is an emergency exit out the back. Take that, and get away."

"What about you?" Eileen demanded, glancing between him and the ninja.

"I did not become Greatspell simply due to my oratory skills. I will hold him as long as I can."

"Oh, and what spells would you know that could combat me?" the ninja laughed, holding up his hands. In one, there was that katana. In the other, there was a fistful of burning darkness.

"Go, now," Greatspell whispered, paying no attention to the ninja.

"Fine," Eileen snapped. "But just so that we're clear, I'm only accepting your help so that I can get to Auggie."

"Clear," the alchemist nodded, then turned to face Caesar squarely.

"Oh, and do you truly believe that I'll just let her get away?" Caesar scoffed, then he leaped forward incredibly fast, faster than the eye could follow, in an attempt to get by the nu mou and attack Eileen.

Without moving an inch or whispering a syllable, a line of lightning suddenly connected Bartholemue's right hand to the opposite wall. Caesar stopped dead just before running into the barrier of electricity, staring at it.

"Fortunately," the Greatspell said, slowly cracking his neck, "my second mastery is in Black magic."

Caesar glared at him, and watched out of the corner of his eye as Eileen shut the two heavy doors to the study. He backed up to face Bartholemue squarely again, and the alchemist let the electric current die. Then, he pointed both of his hands at Caesar, and whispered.

"En guard."

Caesar drew his left hand back, and dark flames erupted from it, ready to be thrown at the alchemist. Bartholemue, however, simply pointed. Without him saying anything, the ground burst open, and flames leapt out to incinerate Caesar.

The ninja jumped back and out of the way, not a moment too soon, then let his own flames leap from his hands in an attack at Bartholemue. The alchemist, feeling all of the energy built up in that attack, took a step back, then called out, "_Eisaga_!"

A massive, jagged spire of ice rose from the ground in front of the alchemist, quickly becoming a perfectly transparent wall between the two combatants. The fire slammed into this barrier, and began flooding around the sides, thrown out harmlessly wide by the blocking wall. As the ice began melting, and chunks began flying off, a look of strain crossed Bartholemue's face. He lowered his stance so that he was leaning forward slightly, then raised both hands. More ice began growing out of the one wall, creating replacements for the ice fragments which had melted or been blown off by the dark fire.

The simple tug of war of ice and fire went on incredibly long, the advantage shifting continually between the two combatants. Sweat was soon showing on both of their brows, and not from the heat of the flames. Caesar clamped his right hand around his left wrist to hold it steady, and Bartholemue went down to one knee in order to focus as much momentum forwards as possible.

Finally, the tide of dark flames ended, and Bartholemue stopped leaning forward, sighing and wiping sweat from his forehead. He stopped to look at his hands a moment, and found them shaking with exhertion. He began taking deep breaths, knowing that he couldn't show any weakness now. No, he had to act as powerful as he could.

"Impressive," Caesar called out to him. The alchemist looked up, and saw the ninja standing on the other side of the wall, grinning. His image was distorted by the ice, warped and diffracted through the surface. "There are very few shields which could repel a blast of darkfire. However," his smile widened, "let's see how your shield does when faced with a more concentrated form."

That left hand came forward again, and this time when the flames came out, they were one, single line, a bolt of dark energy. Bartholemue didn't even get a chance to reinforce his wall before it shattered into a million tiny shards. The dark bolt, barely diminished by the encounter with the shield, slammed into Greatspell's chest, and lifted the mage off the ground, throwing him back six metres. He was finally stopped by his back slamming into the reinforced double doors to his chambers, and he slipped to the ground in a sprawled out sitting position.

The ninja waited, and counted under his breath. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Caesar began smiling, drawing his katana and walking forward. So, the great alchemist wasn't so powerful after all. It was a great disappointment. He'd been hoping to test out some of the more powerful abilities which the souls had been providing him. Still, a kill was a kill, so he might as well do it.

He reached the alchemist, drew back the weapon, and lunged.

Suddenly, Bartholemue's eyes shot open, and his hands came down to clamp onto Caesar's arm. Before the ninja could react, the great mage whispered, "_Blitzaga_!"

Caesar's spine bent backwards as incredible amounts of electrical energy coursed through his body. He released Bartholemue, and went flying back with the force of the attack, landing hard on the stage in the centre of the room.

Before Caesar had touched the polished hardwood floor, Bartholemue had raised his left hand to his mouth. He quietly whispered, "Poison," while tapping a ring on his middle finger. Then, he raised both hands to the air, and shaped his magic.

Dark green noxious fumes suddenly began filling the room. It was not a slow process, Bartholemue having practised this spell to beyond perfection. Within moments, there was no oxygen left, only the fatal gas.

Bartholemue breathed easily through the fumes, a tiny green glow coming from his ring. Despite the lack of vision, he may as well have been walking through normal air. The poison spell would last about ten minutes, before clearing up. By that time, Caesar would at the very least be weakened somewhat, if not stone dead.

The alchemist had just allowed himself to relax a bit, when a crashing noise drew his attention upwards. He became aware of the sound of gas siphoning away. It took a moment for his mind to hit upon what it must be. Could he have blown a hole in the roof? But that was impossible, wasn't it?

However, the gas was becoming noticeably thinner, and that sound seemed to be telling him otherwise. But wait… if there was a hole in the roof, then the poison would be escaping, and that meant that there would be a massive cloud of noxious gas floating around the city…

Gritting his teeth, Bartholemue concentrated, and activated the counter to his own spell. Instantly, all of the gas disappeared, making the room clear to view. The alchemist cast a quick glance about, before finding the ninja standing on the rim in a sizeable hole in the roof.

"Well, you are quite impressive," Caesar told him honestly, not even looking at him. He was gazing up at the starry sky, the crescent of the moon circling him. "You are the first person who's managed to lay a finger on me since I've escaped."

In a casual manner, Bartholemue shoved his hands into the deep pockets of his overcoat, and began flexing them into intricate shapes, summoning a spell diagram into his mind. To keep the criminal's attention from this, he said, in a manner as real as he could summon, "Why do you desire Eileen Mindclear?"

"Oh, 'Mindclear', is it?" Caesar replied. "An official Alchemist title. She certainly has improved…"

"You know her somehow?"

"After a fashion."

"Again I ask," the alchemist told him, "You are targeting my subordinate, and thus I find myself obliged to combat you. Why are you attempting to kill Eileen Mindclear?"

"What, don't you care about old Professor Auggie?" the ninja taunted. "Or has the old nu mou been opposing you too much?"

Bartholemue actually chuckled about that, shaking his head. "If I disliked people simply because they opposed me, I would not at current be defending Eileen."

"Well then," Caesar grinned, "in that case, I can only deduce that there is something slightly more than professional between the two of you?"

"Don't be preposterous!" Bartholemue spat.

"Oh, I do apologize," Caesar said, sweeping into a mocking bow. "I didn't mean to offend." He stopped for a moment, pretending to think, then added, "No, wait, I think I did mean to offend. That was a lie."

"You are trying my patience," Bartholemue hissed through clenched teeth.

"Again, I apologize. However, I must say, she is quite attractive, as far as nu mou go."

"Quiet!"

"No, I don't think that I will be quiet," the criminal said, standing slowly up. "Let me tell you what will happen to Eileen. When I get to her, I will kill her, and destroy that beauty she possesses. I will turn that youth and strength and potential into the fuel to my revenge's fire. And nothing you can do can stop me, not even that Meteor spell you're trying to conceal."

Bartholemue's breath caught in his breath, and his hands stopped moving. Slowly, he pulled them out of his pockets, and held them out wide.

"Fine, you saw. I have still given Eileen enough time to escape."

"Oh, but we both know that she won't escape," Caesar said knowingly. "We both know where she's going. She wouldn't abandon her precious teacher…"

"You will not touch her!" the alchemist yelled up at him.

"Stop me," the ninja replied, and suddenly Caesar stood directly in front of Bartholemue. He grabbed the alchemist by the front of his robe, turned, and threw him clear across the lecture hall. For one moment, one terrible moment, Bartholemue felt like he was flying, the wind rushing by and deafening his ears. He crashed into and through the doors on the opposite side, and landed hard on the polished marble floor of the Alchemists' Guild entrance hall. He rolled over several times, before coming to a rest lying on his back.

"Master Greatspell!" someone yelled from somewhere. Everything had suddenly become very fuzzy in Bartholemue's vision and hearing, so he couldn't quite discern much.

He slowly began trying to sit up, but a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and gently forced him back down.

"Master Greatspell, you mustn't move," the voice said, and a fuzzy figure appeared in Bartholemue's vision. "I've sent one of the apprentices for a healer."

"Is he still there?" he mumbled weakly.

"Who, sir?"

"The ninja? Is he still in the lecture hall?"

"No, sir. We heard fighting, and we tried to get in, but the door was locked. Then you came flying through, and there was nobody else in the hall. Now rest, sir."

One thought made its way through to the nu mou's pain-stricken mind, and suddenly he asked, "Is the Archmage still in the library?"

"Yes, sir. He hasn't left yet."

"Send him to Professor Auggie's home, now," Bartholemue ordered, just as he lost consciousness.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Eileen slowly stepped into her former master's house, taking comfort in the fact that the door was not off its hinges. The house was dark, but it was completely possible that Auggie had simply already gone to bed. He was getting older, so he didn't have as much energy as he used to.

"Professor?" she called out tentatively, looking around the entrance hallway slowly. She stepped slowly forward, and looked around cautiously. She noticed his old walking cane by the door, sitting in the normal old place he always kept it.

She began calming slightly, and took several more steps forward. Suddenly, an acrid smell reached her nose. It was the smell of smoke, and burning.

Adrenaline driving her, Eileen drew her mace and ran down to the end of the hallway, to the doorway which lead to Auggie's bedroom. As she approached, she noticed that the smell was getting stronger.

Gritting her teeth, Eileen took a deep breath, and pushed open the door.

Inside, there had obviously been a great battle. Furniture was scattered all over the place. Burn marks of varying degrees were all over the place, as well as holes in the flooring. Eileen wrinkled her nose in disgust at a smell made by the remnants of a poison gas spell and burns from flares. She looked over to the left, and saw a massive hole in the back wall of the house, probably caused by a meteor attack.

Eileen's eyes finally rose up high enough to take in the entire room, and she saw a form lying in the wreckage.

Her heart caught in her throat as she saw the form, and she very slowly stepped forward. It took all of her will to take those view steps, no more than five. Each one felt like a journey over a mountain range. Finally, she reached the figure, and, choking back tears, touched the robed form softly with her hand.

"Auggie," she whispered, giving him a little shove. "Auggie… please."

When she could stand it no longer, Eileen reached down to touch the nu mou's head lightly, and turned the face to her.

"Ultima," she gasped, and then buried her face in the robe, weeping openly.

She remained like that for a long time. She knew not how long. She simply kneeled, exhausted, trying to cry away her pain. However, whenever she thought she was alright again, a new wave of tears and memories overcame her, and she had to keep on going.

Thus, she didn't notice it when the figure in the dark cloak appeared at the door. He already had his katana out and ready, just in case she should try something.

He approached her slowly, feeling moved despite himself. Though he was used to killing people without cause and without warning, he had never had to witness the aftermath before. For just a moment, he wished he didn't have to do this, but there was no turning back, now.

Just as he came up directly behind her, however, she turned to face him. He paused, staring down at those cold green eyes and tear-stained cheeks. He didn't honestly know what to do, then.

Finally, the young alchemist broke the silence, whispering, "Well, come on then. Take what you came here for."


	40. The Gladiator

"Alright, thanks," Jacqueline heard Ben say as he stepped out of the small hovel. She looked up, and sighed, thankful that he was finally back. He'd gone in to talk with the old nu mou morpher over an hour earlier, and left Jacqueline outside to occupy herself. According to the morpher, only members of 'the order' were allowed inside his hut.

"Thank Exodus," she muttered, walking up to him. "What took so long?"

Ben took a quick glance around to make sure that nobody was listening, then leaned in closer to her. "We might have a problem."

"'Adn't noticed that 'fore," she muttered, falling into stride beside him.

"Oh, more of a problem than before," Ben assured her. "Those souls are more powerful than we thought."

"Tell me."

"Alright, so, first of all, just the normal souls," he began, subconsciously tugging down the lip of his hat. He had put on his full blue mage's outfit at the moment that they'd entered his old forest home. The Koringwood was just as wild as ever, and Ben had decided he didn't want any of its inhabitants to pay any unexpected visits on he and Jacqueline while they were there. The cloak and hat showed to any protectors of the forest and any creatures that he was a fully-fledge blue mage, and worthy of their respect. He continued on speaking, remembering everything that his old friend had told him. "A soul is a pure form of a creature's energies. There's one main way to get a soul. Whenever a hunter manages to capture a beast of some sort, that beast, as a sign of respect for the one who captured them, will give them a soul."

"_I _know that," Jacqueline muttered, "an' I ain't even too good with beasts."

"Well, here's the part that most people don't know," Ben said. "While some hunters use the souls as decorations, most will give them to a trained morpher who can unlock its energies. Every soul not only grants the user the use of the creature's abilities, but also grants the user some of the creatures attributes."

"'Xplain that, please?"

"Well, for example," Ben thought for a moment, then said, "if a morpher was holding a dragon's soul, he would be much stronger physically, and he could take a lot more hits, but he would also slow down a good deal."

"Got it," Jacqueline nodded. "But 'ow's this tie in with Caesar?"

"I'm not sure," Ben said quietly. "He's using non-animal souls, which has never been heard of before. However, if you look at the people he's killing…"

"All powerful," Jacqueline reasoned. "'E kills people who're incredibly strong at whatever they do."

"Exactly," Ben said, "and, if our fight with him is anything to show for it, he's becoming ridiculously strong. I mean, he took on all five of us without being touched."

"So 'e's found a way to use all of 'em at once?"

"It seems so…" he whispered, wondering. "But he hasn't tried actually morphing yet. He's only using basic ninja abilities…"

"Well, we'll 'ave to wait 'til the others come back to make sure o' that one," Jacqueline said.

"Yeah, I guess we will," Ben whispered. "You've got the list of the people he's murdered?"

"Right 'ere," Jacqueline said, reaching into her pocket for a piece of battered parchment. "We've got the 'ead of the Cyril thieves' guild, 'is decoy, the two guards…"

"One of them was a mage, right?"

"Yeah. Then there're the judge and possibly the four on 'is list."

"Then if you add the other two we found out about…" Ben muttered, meaning the two prominent Jagd thieves Jacqueline had managed to find out about who'd been killed recently.

"Total of eleven. 'At's an odd number…"

"How do you mean?" Ben asked, confused.

"Well, in conventional magic, the numbers we usually use're three, five, or eight in simple spells. For complex ones, ten, or sometimes even sixteen or twenty. But never eleven."

"Let's not forget that he accidentally killed the other thief."

"Right," she shook her head. "Sorry, not thinking straight."

Ben reached over and ran a hand through her long, silver hair, saying softly, "You're thinking about this too much. You need a break."

Jacqueline smiled, taking his hand in hers and giving it a quick squeeze. "Nah, I'm fine. But once we're done with this, I wanna do some mindless 'dventuring."

"I'm all for that," Ben replied, scratching the back of his head. "All we can do now though is wait for them to come back."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The first to arrive was Isaac. The two were sitting in the Prancing Chocobo inn about two weeks after the moogle had left, when the door banged open and a windswept traveler stumbled through. His cloak had many small flecks of snow on it, which melted soon after he entered, leaving both the garment and Isaac soaked. He glanced about, then pulled back his hood, showing that telltale fedora. Jacqueline noticed him first, and waved him over.

They could tell from how he walked that his mission had not gone well. He stumped around the chairs and tables until he reached them, then plopped himself down into a moogle-sized seat. There he remained, silent and brooding.

After a short bout of uncomfortable silence, Ben prodded, "How did it go?"

Isaac glanced over at him, and the blue mage saw the exhaustion in those sharp eyes. Timidly, Isaac asked, pointing at Ben's tankard, "Are you going to drink that?"

Ben passed it over, and Isaac promptly downed the entire thing without taking a breath. Ben and Jacqueline stared in awe at his bobbing Adam's apple as the liquid just kept flowing and flowing away into his mouth. Once it was finally done, Isaac smacked the tankard down onto the table.

"Not well, kupo. Do you three have rooms already booked for Max, Eileen and I?"

"Yeah," Jacqueline nodded, passing him a small key. "Yours's eight."

"I'm going to bed, then, kupo," Isaac muttered, getting back up. "I'll tell you about it in the morning."

Once the moogle had left, Ben glanced over at Jacqueline, his eyebrows raised. "I'm getting the feeling that it wasn't as good as we'd hoped."

"To get 'im in that foul a mood?" Jacqueline replied, staring at the empty tankard. "Yeah, it wasn good."

Ben sighed, shaking his head. "Well, that's one out of three. Maybe the others did better. To be fair, Isaac is the weakest…"

"Don' say that," Jacqueline said quickly, casting him a warning look.

"Sorry," Ben apologized, "what I meant is that he's really the least ruthless out of all of us. He fights differently."

"Don't mean he's weaker," Jacqueline insisted.

"Alright," Ben sighed, "I'm sorry. It's just sometimes I think he could be so much stronger if he was just willing to go beyond his silly little morals."

"Maybe," Jacqueline conceded, "but he wouldn't be Isaac, then."

After thinking for a moment, Ben gave a slight nod. She had a point.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Next to come into town was Maxwell. It was five days later, and Isaac and Ben were sparring with each other in the shallow snow on the edge of a small forest on the outskirts of town. Jacqueline was practising running up trees, something which apparently was one of her favourite forms of training.

Suddenly, Max appeared quite a bit like a bolt of lightning. One moment there was quiet, the next the strong dragoon came flying through the canopy of trees, landing easily in a crouch right next to the human and the moogle.

After Isaac and Ben were done having minor heart-attacks, and Jacqueline had stopped laughing so hard she was bending over, Maxwell quickly asked, "Were you succesful with your target, Isaac?"

"No, kupo," Isaac sighed, picking his blade up off the ground and sheathing it. "Caesar got there too fast, and he was way too good for me, kupo."

"Damn," Maxwell muttered.

"Don't tell me that _you _couldn't manage to beat him!" Ben demanded, amazed.

The bangaa sighed, and began leaning on his spear like a walking stick. However, he winced and quickly stood up straight. For the first time, the other three noticed a bandage wrapped around his left forearm.

"Lemme take a lookkit that," Jacqueline ordered. He removed the bandage, and the other three shuddered at the massive cut that was in it, not yet closed. Jacqueline whispered something, and a white light gathered in her palm. As she began running her hand up and down his wound, Maxwell told his story.

"After I split up with you, Isaac, I made very good time. I was going much faster than I'd anticipated. When the storm hit, I was already at the Peaks, so I took shelter in a small cave on the edge of a mountain. At some time very early in the morning, I awoke to find Caesar standing above me. He asked me whether I minded that he'd borrowed my shelter. As he appeared unarmed, I attacked."

He was quiet for a very long time after that. Eventually, he reached into his pack behind him with his right hand, and pulled something out. He tossed it over to Isaac, and asked, "How well would you rate the craftsmanship on that greave?"

Isaac turned the ruined piece of metal around in his paws. It had some weight to it, and aside from a large rent in its side, he figured that the thing was very good protection. "Nearly flawless," Isaac muttered. He turned it over once more, and his fingers felt something. He looked at what his fingers had found, and saw a rune of some sort. "Enchanted, too."

"Yes," Maxwell nodded slowly. "In that case I believe I made the right decision."

"How do you mean, kupo?"

"I had a choice, you see. After I attacked him, he utterly defeated me. He had me down, and he held back his left hand. A blade appeared there. It looked like darkness, and when it cut my skin, it felt…" he shuddered. "Dead. He swung the blade, and I could either try to get my neck out of his way, or intercept the blow with my arm. I chose the latter."

They were silent as Jacqueline finished up with his arm. She withdrew her hand, shaking her head. "My magic ain't strong 'nough for this."

"I did not expect it to be," the bangaa shrugged. "Guiness's magic did nothing to lessen the strike."

"You met up with 'em, then?" Jacqueline asked, as she wrapped the bandage back around.

"Yes. I regained consciousness shortly after Caesar's attack and continued on from there. I found the clan before Caesar did, and warned them. Guiness used his most powerful spells on my wound, but to no effect. I decided to remain with Clan Nutsy in order to aid them in the protection of Pallanza. When Caesar finally arrived, we summoned a judge. We were about to attack, but he somehow summoned… creatures."

"What kinds of creatures?" Ben asked, getting genuinely interested.

"The creatures of nightmares. Dragons, of some sort, made of shadows. However, they were different from any kind of dragon I had ever seen. I said that I would hold them off whilst Clan Nutsy delt with Caesar. The dragons were not difficult to combat. Weaker than the average dragon, and they did not use any breath weapons. However, whenever I defeated one, Caesar would simply turn and summon another. Thus, I was constantly fighting about a dozen dragons all at once. Clan Nutsy fought valiantly against Caesar, but he managed to defeat each one of them as though they were children playing with wooden weapons. Only Marche presented any real challenge to him, and that was for no longer than ten seconds. Then, peculiarly, he took Pallanza, but he did not kill him."

"He _didn't _kill him, kupo!?"

"Yes, he did not kill Pallanza. He said, 'You will make excellent bait,' and then he left. Disappeared, almost."

"But that doesn't make sense," Ben objected. "He needs their souls…"

"You have forgotten," Max said. "The accumulation of their souls is only an extra part. His main goal is vengeance a specific group."

"Then why didn't he kill him, then? Why did he leave him alive?"

"He's using him as bait," Isaac said suddenly, having just realised what Max was insinuating. "None of us could find the mogknight, so maybe Caesar can't find him either, kupo. Pallanza and him must have been partners or something, so Caesar is using him as bait to lure out the mogknight."

"Precisely," Maxwell nodded. Slowly, he stood up. "Well, I have told Clan Nutsy to wait for us in Sprohm. We should go and meet up with them as soon as Eileen arrives."

"Sprohm?"

"Yes, I believe I know what our powerful friend is attempting to do."

"You mind enlightening us to what that is?" Jacqueline asked.

"I believe that he is attempting to summon the Worldwyrm."

"Worldwyrm?"

"Yes," Maxwell nodded. "It is a dragoon legend. Do not ask what I remember it from; it escapes me. The most powerful dragon of all time. It sided with no creature, instead opting to support chaos. He would destroy at random for simple pleasure. Originally, he would only attack small farming communities, but then he grew more bold, attacking greater and greater targets. Then, one day, it became clear that he was making a direct course for the city of Baguba. The shipping port was a sacrifice that the people could not accept, not only because of the heavy population, but also the fact that they relied on it for the bulk of their trade with other countries. Thus, a plan was devised. Several of the greatest warriors and spell casters of the time gathered to intercept the great Wyrm at Roda Volcano. The hero Gaol was one of those involved with this rescue attempt, along with his partner Lini the Mogknight. The warriors and archers were meant to keep the dragon distracted as the mages, the ten greatest in the land, each masters in one of the Ten True Disciplines of Magic, sealed away the Worldwyrm away with their respective powers. However, none of the other warriors managed to last for even a moment against the Worldwyrm in battle, and thus it came to pass that the Hero Gaol entered into single combat with the Worldwyrm. Gaol died in that battle, but he managed to delay and weaken the Worldwyrm enough for the spell casters to seal it away."

"So," Ben said slowly, allowing the information to process, "he's using the ten souls to break the ten seals."

"Not quite," Maxwell continued. "Only nine of the seals will be broken by the power of the souls. The final seal, the Seal of Sages, which was infused directly with Ultima Magic, requires a live sacrifice to open."

"Who'll he use fer the sacrifice, then?" Jacqueline asked. "He's got an extra, there."

"He only ever had ten targets," Isaac pointed out. "There was the extra for that thief's impersonator, kupo. He probably doesn't care who breaks the seal, so long as they all die."

"And if they are there when the Worldwyrm comes to life, they are guaranteed to be destroyed," Maxwell muttered. "A nuclear-equipped army from our world would be incapable of stopping that creature."

"Great, kupo," Isaac said in an annoyed voice. "As if the stakes weren't already high enough."

"We must leave the moment Eileen returns," Maxwell said, looking at each of them. "Fortunately, after having battled all of his targets, Clan Nutsy, Eileen, Isaac and I, Caesar will require some time to rest and regain his strength. However, we should not wait long. No longer than five days, I would say."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

After a week of waiting, Eileen still hadn't arrived. The four were sitting around a table in the pub one night, each one lost in their thoughts, when Maxwell suddenly sat up straight.

"We cannot wait any longer."

"What?"

"If we wait much longer, Caesar will manage to summon the Worldwyrm. There will be no place to hide after he does that."

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded, a sharp edge to his voice.

"We cannot afford any more wasted time. We should pack tonight and leave tomorrow."

"Are you serious, kupo!?" Isaac asked. He turned to the other two, and asked, "What do you guys think?"

"I'm with Maxwell," Ben said. "We'll go and deal with Caesar, then come back and search for Eileen."

"I 'ave to agree with 'em as well," Jacqueline said, not meeting Isaac's gaze.

Isaac was quiet for a moment, before saying, "Fine. You guys go to Sprohm. I'm heading to Cadoan to look for Eileen. We'll follow you guys through the mountain paths…"

"No, Isaac," Maxwell said sternly. "We will need everybody we can get for this battle."

Isaac opened his mouth to argue again, but stopped himself, closed it, then opened his mouth again. When no sound came out, Isaac pushed his chair back, hard, and walked out of the pub.

"Dammit," Ben muttered as the door slammed shut. "If he won't come of his own will, I'll seriously knock all of his teeth out." When Jacqueline gave him a look, he sighed, then added, "All for his good, of course."

Jacqueline sighed, standing up. "I'll go talk to him."

"I'll pack your bag," Ben told her.

Jacqueline grabbed the thick red cloak she'd purchased for the cooling nights. Pushing the door open, she glanced down at the footsteps left in all of the snow gathered on the ground. She noticed one set which were smaller than the others, and followed them down the street. After no more than a minute of walking, she caught up to the moogle. He was simply standing in the middle of the road, the heavy coat he wore catching the fat snowflakes and melting them on contact. He didn't move, not even swaying in the light wind which blew.

Jacqueline sighed, then walked over, standing beside him without speaking.

Eventually, Isaac spoke, and Jacqueline turned to face him. "I hate being like this."

"Like what?"

"Totally worked up at every bloody thing, kupo. Any time that something could possibly be going wrong with somebody close to me, I fall straight to pieces."

Jacqueline shook her head, smiling softly. "'At's why we like you. Max is just really… pragmatic."

"Yeah, and he's right, kupo," Isaac said. "And that's what me feel so stupid. I mean, I wouldn't be able to find her, and even if I did, what could I do for her…"

"Alright, first things first," Jacqueline snorted, rolling her eyes. "Slow down, lover-boy. Is 'is about you wanting to 'elp 'er, or you wanting t'impress 'er?"

"I don't know, kupo," he started looking up very slowly. "It's just that… It's just… Quin."

"Ah, the other man?" Jacqueline shook her head. "'At makes it a bit complica—"

"No, kupo, it's _Quin_!" Isaac said, pointing.

Jacqueline looked up, and was shocked to see a nu mou walking towards them at a quick pace. She and Isaac quickly stepped towards him. The sage had a feverish look in his eyes, a combination of sleep deprivation and fear.

"Quin, kupo?" Isaac asked, reaching forward to grab the nu mou as he began collapsing.

"Isaac?" he asked, and Jacqueline realised that the nu mou wasn't seeing right. She grabbed his wrist, and found that it was incredibly cold.

"Isaac, 'elp me carry 'im to the pub. 'E needs 'eat."

"Alright," Isaac said.

Somehow, they managed to drag the sage back to the pub. Isaac kicked the door open, and called out as they dragged him in, "We need some help, kupo!"

With the help of Ben, Maxwell, and several of the bar's occupants, they pulled the nu mou over to the roaring fire, situated in the corner of the bar.

"Max," Jacqueline asked, holding a white glowing palm over Quin, "'ow much control you got over 'at fire breath?"

"Quite a bit," Max said. "What do you require?"

"Blow some warm air over 'im. No flames, please."

"Got it," he whispered, then took in a deep breath, releasing it a tiny bit at a time. Isaac could feel the warm backlash of the air, and turned his head away a bit at the sudden heat.

"Ben, see if anyone 'ere's a White mage."

Ben nodded, then disappeared for a short while. Isaac took off his jacket, and placed it by the fire to warm it up. He felt quite useless, just sitting there with no way to help. Sighing, he looked slowly about, looking at all of the concerned faces in the assembled crowd around them. Glancing at all of their weapons, Isaac saw that few were mages. What would they do if Ben couldn't…

"Found one," Ben said, stepping forward with a nu mou. The nu mou quickly knelt down beside Quin, and began chanting, without a word.

"Eileen…" Quin whispered, and Isaac and Ben quickly leaned forward towards him.

"What was that, kupo?"

"Eileen, he's got her…"

"What?" Ben said. "Who?"

"Caesar. He took her. I tried to stop him, but I wasn't fast enough."

"Why did you come here, kupo?"

"I found out at a pub," the sage said, "the four of you were here. I had to tell you…"

"Why us?" Ben asked. "Why didn't you go stop her yourself?"

"I'm not enough," he said, then wheezed.

"Please, don't speak with him right now," the white mage said suddenly. "It's amazing that he's breathing, let alone speaking. He needs rest."

"Go after her!" Quin said forcefully, his hand reaching out for them. "You have to save her."

Isaac swallowed, then took the sage's hand. "We'll do it, kupo. Don't worry. Get well."

Quin nodded weakly, then passed into sleep.

Maxwell stepped back, breathing deeply. Isaac looked over at him, and said, "Maxwell, you were right, kupo."

"Ssssorry?" the dragoon asked.

"We have to go soon. Tonight."


	41. The Mogknight

"Marche."

The young paladin woke up, his hand instantly going to the hilt of his knightsword, hung beside his bed. That was where he always kept his sword when he slept, ever since he'd been attacked in his sleep by a few rogue members of clan Dip. He looked over, and saw Montblanc standing there. He was a few steps back from the bed, noticeably out of the sword's reach.

"Yeah?" Marche asked, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"They've arrived, kupo," the moogle told him. "They're waiting downstairs."

"Perfect!" Marche said, hopping up and out of bed. "When did they show up?"

"Just now, kupo. They left last night, and…"

"Wait, they left _last _night?" Marche asked, frowning. "They made it all the way from Cyril to Sprohm in one night?"

"Apparently they stole an airship from the dock at Cyril."

"Wow," Marche muttered, pulling on his breastplate. "I never would've expected that from Isaac…"

"Well, you'd better go and see them, kupo. They want to go. _Now_."

"Alright, alright," Marche laughed, shaking his head. "You nag worse than my mom."

"Somebody's got to," Montblanc smirked. "You ready, kupo?"

"Yeah, let's go."

The two of them walked out of Marche's room, made their way down the short hallway, and followed the short spiral staircase which lead to the first floor of the pub. Marche instantly identified the quartet sitting in the corner. The pub was more or less empty, but for the barkeep polishing glasses, a few of the members of Clan Nutsy who were up, and one or two larger brutes still unconscious from the night before. Marche, stretching and nodding to Jocelyn, who was also up, made his way over to the small group's table.

"Hey," he said, smiling at them. "You guys look terrible."

"'Anks," Jacqueline said, tipping the rim of her red hat to him, "you too."

"So, you guys said that you want to go as soon as possible, right?" the paladin asked as the barkeep brought a plate of runny eggs and toasted chocobread over.

"Yes," Isaac spoke for them.

"Okay…" Marche muttered, thinking, _Well this isn't awkward at all…_ Looking around at their group, he noticed something, and Marche's eyes widened. "Wait, did he get her?"

"Kupopo?"

"Caesar? Did he get to Eileen?"

The other four stared at him in surprise. "How did you guess?" Maxwell asked finally, a suspicious look in his eyes.

"Well," an old voice said from a few tables over. The all turned and saw Guinness sitting there, a heavy book open on the table before him as he smoked on a pipe. "When we got here, I went to the Sprohm Prison's official records to get this book. Would you care to guess what it is?"

"Not in the mood right now," Jacqueline said pointedly to the old nu mou, tilting her head ever so lightly in Isaac's direction. The moogle was leaning forward in his seat, and a sharpness had come to his eyes.

"Right, well, it is the official records of Caesar's arrest. It has a list of all those involved."

"How did it happen?" Ben asked. He had gotten up and walked over to the nu mou to read over his shoulder.

"Well, Caesar was a big time crime lord. Legendary, in the upper and under worlds. He was more or less in charge of everything illegal that happened, up until two years ago. On that day, an unnamed mogknight came to officials with an offer. The mogknight had organized a meeting with Caesar to negotiate the purchase of one of his gladiators, the great Lord Pallanza. Former member of the Ultima Quartet before he was captured during an adventure and forced into fighting as a gladiator. All the mogknight wanted was the support of the palace and the prison to recover Pallanza and to capture Caesar. The team went, and the operation went half-well. Together, all of the fighters were able to capture Caesar, and he was dragged off to the prison. Pallanza, however, was rushed away by the rest of the thieves, who abandoned Caesar to his fate. The mogknight was not seen again after that. The list of those involved is, strangely enough, parallel to that of the victims of Caesar's attacks. Several established warriors and mages, including the great Professor Auggie, who brought his young, up-and-coming student, Eileen."

"Eileen was Auggie's student back _'en_?" Jacqueline asked, incredulously.

"It would appear so."

"So, are you saying," Isaac reasoned, "that he might use Eileen to fuel the spell?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Guinness said, blowing a ring of smoke at his book.

"When are we leaving, then?" Maxwell asked the question on everybody's minds, and they turned to face Marche.

The paladin sat quietly for a short time. Then, very quietly, he whispered, "Do the four of you still have that airship you stole?"

"Yes, kupo."

"Alright, you take that, and go there before hand. Watch him, get the lay of the land, and plan possible attack formations and such. I'll have my best clan members ready to leave in a few minutes, and we'll follow after you on chocobos. It shouldn't take us much more than a couple of hours to get there, and then we'll attack."

"Got it," Ben nodded, and they all started gathering their equipment, which they had littered around the table.

"One thing," Marche said, drawing their attention back to him for a moment. His expression was hard, and his eyes severe. "I know that you four are older than me, and I don't normally use this tone with those younger than me, but I believe this situation requires it. _Do not attack on your own!_ He's far stronger than all four of you plus Eileen put together. The only way we can beat him is if we plan every last detail. If the four of you _do _attack, you _will _die. And you can't die, because this is about more than Eileen and Pallanza. This is about all of Ivalice. Is that understood?"

All four of them nodded their agreement, and then quickly finished gathered up their things and left.

"Montblanc," Marche said, turning to face his friend. "Get up Caitlin, Robert and Lindsay. Tell them we're leaving in five. I'll let Lori know that she'll be in charge of the new recruits for a while."

"Alright, kupo," Montblanc nodded. He cast Marche a suspicious glance, and said, "You don't trust them, do you, kupo?"

"No," Marche replied evenly.

"And rightly you shouldn't," Guinness said from over at his table. He closed his tome, and walked over to the other two. "They're far too young to trust on something like this."

"Most of our clan is younger than them, Guinness," Marche pointed out with a smile.

"Not in the same way," Guinness replied. "Robert has watched friends die in combat, and had to go into direct combat with his father to leave the life set out in front of him since he was born. Caitlin had to survive the streets after her father beat her and murdered her mother. Lindsay has glimpsed the ultimate wisdom ever in existence. Jocelyn has survived through pain and trials so great that they have scarred her to this day. Montblanc—"

"I've got my own problems, kupo," the moogle said, glaring at Guinness with a warning look. "I think I'll go wake the others now. See you in five."

Guinness watched him go, then continued. "What I'm saying is that you have all learned by experience that when you don't listen to a leader, people die."

"I know, Guinness. Thank you for understanding," Marche said, reaching over and placing a hand on the nu mou's shoulder. "Listen, I respect your council, but Montblanc…"

"I know, and I apologize," Guinness said, bowing his head slightly. "It was a slip of the tongue."

"Of course," Marche nodded. "Now, go and get ready. Fi—no, four minutes now."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"There it is, kupo!" Isaac yelled over his shoulder. He was standing on the deck of the small schooner they had stolen the night earlier, directing the helm. He was actually going at a relatively slow speed, in hopes of conserving some of the ship's magical energy. He'd been flying all night at top speed, so playing it safe seemed best.

"Alright," Ben nodded, stepping up beside him. He glanced about the landscape, and asked awkwardly, "Uh, Isaac? Do you think there's something we forgot to think about?"

"How do you mean, kupo?"

"Well, we kind of need somewhere to land."

"Right…" the moogle mused. He looked up, and his eyes scanned the ground. Then, he nodded his head, and said, "That plateau, over there."

"Isaac, could I remind you that this is the second time that you've flown solo? Are you sure that you can manage an unassisted landing?"

"Do you want the answer that won't make you panic or the truth, kupo?"

Ben sighed, shaking his head. "I hate it when you say things like that."

Isaac grinned back at him, and asked, "Could you guys give a bit of slack on the sail, kupo? Actually, on second thought, cut the sail altogether."

"Sure."

Isaac sighed and turned the ship towards the plateau, hoping that he knew what he was doing. If he killed the sail, then he would be slowing down, and assumedly he would just need to bring down the magical energy holding the ship aloft. However, if they were going too quickly, they would be having trouble.

His grin widening, Isaac slowly began killing the elevation.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Anybody else finding that just waiting doesn't agree with them so far?"

"Yes."

"Oh yeah."

"It _is_ our job to do this."

Three incredulous expressions turned to look at the bangaa.

"Alright," Maxwell surrendered. "I'm sorry, I hate it as much as all of you."

"Well, lessgo over it 'gain, then," Jacqueline muttered, gesturing over at the small diagram they had scratched into the dirt. "'Right, Isaac, what'd you see last night?"

Isaac shuddered as he brought the recollection of his journey into Eileen's consciousness the night before. During one of his breaks at the helm, he had laid down and forced himself into another Third Eye dream. It wasn't what he had seen in that vision which had frightened him. No, it was the feelings. The emotions. Eileen had been feeling a simple gnawing emptiness for the entire experience, and it had nearly forced him to back out. However, he had somehow managed to persevere in order to see the layout of Roda Volcano's interior.

"So, as far as I could see, kupo, there's only one real entrance. It's over a rock bridge, which spans a river of lava—"

"I still can't get over that part. I'm sorry, but honestly."

"Stupid or not, let's make sure we don't fall in, kupo. The entrance isn't anything special, and neither is any of the inside. Just a long rock corridor, isn't even worked, kupo. That opens up into a giant chamber. There's a small lip of rock around the outer edge of it, and a small island in the very center, but the rest is nothing but lava."

"And ye said 'e didn't set up _any _traps?"

"No, kupo. Even Eileen could tell that he's getting cocky."

"'At's good fer us."

"Well, only if you consider the lack of traps. He doesn't need them," Ben pointed at the long corridor they had drawn. "Any of those black waves the two of you described could take out all of us in one hit in that thing."

"So we need a distraction, kupo?"

"'At, or an 'uge lump of metal to push in front of us."

"Did you see any more entrances, Isaac?" Maxwell asked, looking at the volcano. "There must be some sorts of crevices or holes in that giant mountain somewhere…"

"I was seeing it all from the point of view of Eileen, kupo. She doesn't notice that kind of stuff."

"What did she notice?" Ben asked.

"She saw the seals," Isaac offered.

"Where were they, anyways?" the ninja continued, then added as an afterthought, "Not that it'll help."

"On the walls. Making a perfect… Nine-o-gram? Whatever, kupo. The last seal was on the island in the middle of the lake of lava, kupo."

There was silence as they all mulled it over again, and then Isaac muttered, "I just said 'lake of lava', didn't I, kupo?"

"Unfortunately, yeah," Ben replied.

"So," Jacqueline said, "way I see it: we either gotta get in without 'im 'earing, or distract 'im. We don' 'ave the time to do a search for other entrances, so where does that leave us?"

"Strategically," Maxwell mused, "we would send Ben and Jocelyn in first, in hopes of holding him until the heavier artillery, namely Marche, Robert, Caitlin, and myself. The problem with that is, of course, that it is very doubtful that Ben and Jocelyn could hold him that long. No offence to you, of course," he said, looking over at Ben.

"None taken," Ben shrugged. "If it means I don't have to die in the core of a volcano trying to prevent the most powerful dragon in history from coming back and destroying the world, I don't mind."

"So, we're at a stalemate," Isaac muttered.

"Not really," Jacqueline said darkly. "We can't break in, and Caesar can let out 'ellfire on our 'eads at the drop of a pin."

"Well, this is just depressing me, kupo," Isaac said, standing up. "I'm going for a walk. I'll be back before our mass suicide starts."

He strapped his blade to his side, and stepped off into the rocky terrain. It was more or less just differing patterns of jagged stone sticking up into the air. Every here and there were situated some sparse bushes. Overall, the place was slightly less bleak than their future mission.

Isaac sighed and kicked a large stone down a small hill. He hadn't been feeling right since the night before. He really wasn't the type for this kind of a job. He would do anything to save Eileen, of course he would, but he couldn't watch other people putting themselves in so much danger. Ben and Jocelyn going in alone? Assuming Caesar didn't hear them and blow them apart before they got there, he would just slaughter them anyways! And even if they did reach Caesar before he killed one or both of them, it was likely that one of the others would die. Who knew, maybe Pallanza and Eileen would get killed in the process?

Isaac let his breath out in a hiss of annoyance. There were just too many possibilities. He didn't like it at all.

Suddenly, Isaac's right ear twitched. The young moogle's head came up, and he glanced about. He had learned to trust his ears, even when he wasn't actually hearing what they picked up. The ear closest to the sound would twitch if it was quite faint. Turning slowly to the right, Isaac placed his paw on the hilt of his blade and pulled it from its sheath. Careful to prevent any sound, the moogle stepped off of the main path and began making his way through the tangled path of rocks. As he went further, he began to actually pick up a soft noise. An occasional ringing, like that of when weapons clash. Quickening his pace, Isaac kept his head in case he was coming upon a battle.

He suddenly came upon a very strange sight. He was at the crest of a small hill, looking down. At the base of the hill, there was a place where all of the stones were pushed out and away from the centre, forming a perfect circle of larger stones, held up like pillars. It reminded Isaac a bit of Stonehenge, or those other ancient pagan sites of worship he had heard about in his history courses. That was not what intrigued him, however.

What intrigued him was the moogle standing in the middle of the circle of stones. A heavy blade was clamped in his right hand, slightly longer than the average blade a moogle would use. His left hand was empty, which surprised Isaac, as normally mog knights carried shields when their other hand was empty. His garb was quite simple: a light, white shirt, with a pair of light brown breeches. An empty sheathe hung loosely at his back from a plain black leather belt. The only adornment on the moogle's attire was a single metal bracer which went from his right elbow all the way down to his wrist. Isaac couldn't see many details of it, but he could just make out a few markings of some sort along its length. The moogle kept his long, white ears back against his scalp, the black tips like arrows pointing to the earth. His back was to Isaac, and his head lowered, so Isaac couldn't quite get a good look at him.

Suddenly, the moogle sprung into motion, pulling a full back hand-spring from standing. It was at this point that Isaac saw that the moogle's eyes were shut. He kept going, end over end over end, until he reached one of the small spires of rock. Then, he placed his feet on the top of the spire, and leapt backwards off of it.

Time seemed to stand still as the moogle floated through the air. His eyes were still firmly shut, and his body looked totally relaxed as the flew. Isaac suddenly saw that the moogle was bound for a large, jagged lump of rock, sticking up from the ground. He stepped forward to shout a warning, but then something happened.

The moogle's body tensed, for one instant. Then he was moving, his right, blade-wielding arm leading him in a tight rotation. Isaac simply stared as the blade made contact with the stone, and, before his very eyes, sheared through the solid rock, chopping the top off. An instant later, the sound of metal ringing off rock reached his ears, and the moogle landed neatly on the flat bit he had just cut into the rock.

Isaac, remembering that he was supposed to breathe occasionally, gasped at the sheer impossibility.

No sooner had the first intake of air passed his lips than the moogle's eyes snapped open, and fixed on Isaac.

"Oh Famfrit," Isaac whispered.

"Hey, you," the mog knight said, and Isaac's eyes widened more.

"You're a girl, kupo!?"

"What'd you expect?" she asked, glaring at him.

"Uh," Isaac shook his head. "Not that."

The mog knight leapt off the edge of the rocky perch she'd made for herself, and walked confidently towards Isaac. The gunner wasn't sure whether he should run away, bow down and beg for mercy, or just stab himself then and there to get it over with.

However, before he could decide, the moogle was directly in front of him. Now that she was closer, Isaac could see clearly that she was female. The curve of her figure, and the slight tenting of her shirt from her breasts, all had been unable to discern from so far away.

"Ahem?" the moogle asked, and Isaac jumped, startled.

"Er, yeah, kupo?"

"Well, kupo, are you going to introduce yourself, or just ogle me all day?"

"Oh, sorry!" he apologized hurriedly. "My name is Isaac, kupo."

"Yes, and what are you doing near Rhoda Volcano?"

Isaac sighed, and rolled his eyes. "It's a slightly long story, and I don't really have time to tell it."

"Why, kupo?" the mog knight asked, raising an eyebrow. "Have you got to go watch other warriors during their training sessions without invitation, kupo?"

"Er, no, of course not!" Isaac said apologetically. "I've actually got to go and attempt to save my friend and prevent the apocalypse, kupo."

She regarded him curiously for a moment, before asking, in a very out of the blue manner, "Are you a friend of Eileen Mindclear's, kupo?"

"Uh," Isaac babbled, beginning to feel like he was being somewhat dominated in this conversation. "Yes, me and my friends are trying to free her from Caesar."

"Ah, I see," she said. "And, tell me, Isaac, what is this about the apocalypse, kupo?"

"Er, well," Isaac began, then stopped. He realised he didn't like this moogle. She was asking far too many questions, and acting as though she was better than him. "Actually, I don't think I can tell you that until I learn your name, kupo, and why _you're _here."

The mogknight laughed, a very clear and ringing sound. "Well, I can't tell you my name, kupo, because I only give my name to those I trust. But as to why I'm here, kupo…" She paused, as though considering, before continuing, "I am here for essentially the same reason as you, except my friend is Lord Pallanza."

"Ah, I see…" Isaac said, nodding, before his eyes widened and he yelped, "Wait, so _you're _'the Unnamed Mogknight'!?"

" 'Unnamed'?" she asked.

"Yeah, we've been looking everywhere for you, kupo, and… Oh!"

"What, kupo?"

"You're in danger," Isaac said, then reached forward and grabbed her free hand with his. He turned around and began pulling her with him. "I'll explain as we go, but you need to come with me."

The mogknight, who had tensed up at the contact, followed him obediently, not knowing what else to do with the odd little moogle.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Several hours later, the four friends and the mogknight were sitting at their previous location, watching the volcano from a distance. The four had just finished telling her the long tale of how they had released Caesar, and then gone off in an attempt to prevent all of the murders. She listened patiently as they each took their turns telling what had happened. Finally, when they were all done, she reached up with a paw and rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

"Interesting…" she whispered. "I never would have suspected such an elaborate plan, kupo…"

"You want elaborate?" Ben snorted. "Ask us about some of our other adventures sometime."

"Either way," Maxwell interrupted, "we were wondering whether you could aid us with our planning. We have already shown you what we know, and you know of our troubles. Any help at all would be appreciated."

"I can think of one way we could perform a successful attack, kupo…" she whispered. "However, it would prove to be quite risky to some members…"

"What is it?" Jacqueline inquired.

"I, myself, have been going over this terrain for several days. I arrived here a week ago, kupo, after I heard rumours that he was seen around these parts. I remembered that this was where the original capture took place, so I believed it was a good bet. There are, along the mountain, a few, small faults, simple holes which lead deep into the mountain. I have only tried five of these, and only two go all the way."

"Exsscellent," Maxwell hissed in pleasure. "We can send in attack parties from two sides, made up of our greatest fighters."

"Not quite, kupo," she said sadly. "These holes are small. It was difficult enough for _me _to fit through, let alone a bangaa or a nu mou."

"So what you're saying is…"

"I am saying that we will send in all of the moogles your party has to hold off Caesar. Once inside, one of the others can free Pallanza while I distract the ninja, and then the two of us should be sufficient to defeat him."

"You sure?" Jacqueline asked. "'E can do things that ain't human."

"I was the one who defeated him last time, kupo, and Pallanza is much more powerful than I will ever be," she assured the viera.

"So that means it'll be Isaac, Montblanc, and you against the greatest ninja the world has ever known infused with dark magic from the greatest dragon the world has ever known, right?" Ben asked sceptically.

"Precisely, kupo," the mogknight said, a small smirk on her face.

The other thee looked over at Isaac, and he saw the questions in all of their faces. He had a choice: back out and force somebody else to enter a much more dangerous situation, or place himself in the line of fire.

Gulping back fear, Isaac whispered, "Let's do it, then."


	42. The Alchemist

"I don't like it."

"Marche, we don't have another choice, kupo."

"I know, Montblanc, but just the three of you? I mean, Eileen might help you out once she gets out of whatever bonds they've got on her, but Pallanza?"

"I assure you, kupo," the mogknight, who still had not revealed her name, said, "that Lord Pallanza is one of the greatest warriors Ivalice has ever known. If his hands grasp a blade's hilt again, kupo, I am sure he will remember."

"That's fine for you," Marche snapped, "but it's not _your _life I'm worrying about! It's my best friend's!"

"Marche!" Montblanc interrupted him sharply. "It is my life, kupo. Keyword: _my_. Isaac has placed his faith in her, and so will I."

Marche sighed, and looked around the circle at all of those gathered around him. All of the greatest members of Clan Nutsy were there; his closest allies who'd been with him from the beginning, who had fought gods alongside him. This strange mogknight, who seemed to know more about one of his clanmates than he did. Isaac, Ben, Jacqueline and Maxwell, who were so determined to do anything to save their friend. Montblanc, the one who had never left his side since he'd entered this mad world.

"Alright, Montblanc," he whispered, then his eyes focused on the mogknight and Isaac, who stood next to each other. "The moment there's an opening for all of us to come in, let us know. No matter how good you _or _Pallanza is, he's too strong."

The mogknight nodded her ascent, and then jerked her head backwards a bit, telling Isaac and Montblanc to follow.

Isaac turned and faced his friends, and smiled at them. "I'll see you guys in a few minutes, kupo. We'll save some of the ninja for you."

"Make sure you do," Jacqueline rolled her eyes, "I ain't done nothing so far in 'is little mission."

" 'Little'", Ben snorted, shaking his head. "Make sure you come back."

"Whatever you say, kupo," Isaac replied, and then walked off in the mogknight's wake. A few moments later, Montblanc ran to catch up to him. He was in his battle robes, and held a heavy rod as a walking stick.

"Marche and the rest will come in to help us as soon as they hear the fighting," he said. They went on for a little while, shivering in the cold, before the the black mage asked curiously. "Are you nervous, kupo?"

"Uh…" Isaac whispered, half laughing, "yeah."

"Good," Montblanc laughed back. "Didn't want to be the only one."

"It's better us than them, kupo," Isaac said, shrugging. "So long as they aren't in danger."

"Agreed. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if Marche died, kupo."

"Well," the mogknight called back to them, "if we mess this up, kupo, he'll die anyways."

"Isn't she Little Miss Sunshine?" Isaac muttered.

"Either way, she has a point," Montblanc replied. To the mogknight, he asked, "Where are these holes, kupo?"

"The first one is halfway up the volcano, kupo, and the other is about two thirds of the way around from it, a few feet up from the ground. The way I see it, one of you will take the first hole, and wait while the other and I engage Caesar to drop out, kupo. Then, you fly down to release Pallanza and Eileen, kupo."

She stopped for a moment, and looked over her shoulder at them. She cocked her head to the side, and asked, "Do you know which of you is the better flyer?"

"Euh," Montblanc more or less mewed. "I can't fly, kupo."

"Alright," she said without question, looking over to Isaac. "Congratulations, kupo. You get to save them."

"Okay," Isaac muttered. "What do I do, kupo?"

"Weren't you paying attention? Wait until we distract him, then free them. Your job's the easiest, kupo. _We_ have to fight a dragon infested ninja."

They went the rest of the way in silence, each one of them lost in their own thoughts. When they reached the first hole, the top one, Isaac bid them goodbye and began worming his way down, headfirst. It was a very tight fit, but he seemed to fit alright, so he didn't mind. The clanking of his weapons on the stone around him was constantly frightening; making him constantly think that the sound would alert Caesar. The further he went, the darker it got. Isaac shuddered slightly as he continued worming along, hating it. As if going to an almost certain death in a tiny rock crevice wasn't enough, it also had to be dark.

Eventually, he saw the dull red glow up ahead of him, and realised he was getting close. About a minute later, he reached the end of his hole, and looked inside the volcano for the first time with his own eyes.

Instantly, he took in everything. The small, isolated island in the middle where Eileen and Pallanza sat, tied back to back. All over the small island there were bright matrices of lines in seemingly random patterns. At the very centre of these lights was one blank circle. This giant construction was the Seal of Sages, paid for with the life of the Hero Gaol hundreds of years previous.

One of those strings would jut out from the circle at regular intervals around the circle in nine positions, running over and off from the island. They would disappear under the lava, then appear again on the land, running several metres up the walls. Where the strings ended, there were other nexuses of lines and strings, also apparently random, but noticeably different from the original. They each also contained the blank circle in the centre, except each one of these was occupied by a glowing soul. As he surveyed each one, Isaac's eyes came across a blood red one, which he recognized as Chaucer's. He suppressed a groan of distress, and kept looking.

Pacing around the perimeter of the large circle of lava was Caesar. He had abandoned the loose black cloak, and now simply wore a tight sleeveless black shirt and some dark grey breeches. Now that the long, baggy sleeves weren't in the way, he could see that on the back of his left hand, there was a circle of perfect black skin. It was slowly pulsating in size and intensity as he kept pacing. He was nervous, obviously so. He was probably expecting that mogknight to show up at any moment to be blown away.

Suddenly, in a small hole which he hadn't noticed in the wall, there was a white form. It dropped noiselessly down to the ground, and was quickly followed by another. Caesar didn't even notice until the first figure slowly drew out her blade, making sure that it would make enough noise for him to hear.

He spun around, and faced the two moogles. Planting his feet far apart, he nodded to them, "Well, I would have hoped that you'd come alone."

"Sorry, kupo," the mogknight shrugged. "My pride doesn't come before the needs of others."

Caesar laughed, and stepped slowly over to where his katana stood, stuck into the ground. "Oh, the needs of others. Why is it that you people always concern yourselves with them? What do you gain from it? Those you save would never give themselves up for you. They would never even stoop down to offer you a hand had you fallen. Why do you do it?"

"Hey," Montblanc shrugged, still standing by the hole, "It's something to do."

With that, he threw one of his hands forward in a whip-crack fashion, and lightning flew towards the ninja.

Caesar cartwheeled out of the way, placing both feet on the rock wall. Seeming to defy gravity, the ninja bunched his legs and jumped, clean across the lava towards Montblanc.

The mogknight, however, was already there. She seemed to just appear in his path, and block the katana with her blade. Sparks flew for an instant as the two weapons met, before the mogknight hopped nimbly back and Caesar touched the ground. The moogle started the next offensive, taking a step forward and jumping at the ninja. She swiped her blade across in three incredibly quick successive slashes, each one being blocked by the katana. She touched the ground, and bent over backwards to avoid a kick at her chest.

Seeing an opening, Montblanc threw another batch of electricity at Caesar. The ninja spun sideways, having no room to dodge backwards. The mogknight reached forward with her blade, attempting to trip up the ninja's path. Caesar just pushed off with one foot, managing to continue spinning and leap over the blade at the same time. Landing and coming out of the spin, he looked over at the two, his face expressionless.

"You young people these days are so filled with good intentions. False pretensions. You all think that there is a greater good, that there is some form of fate or right. There is no right. If there was right, it would not be the two of you standing there fighting me." He gazed at the two of them, and smiled cruelly. "It would be your parents."

Montblanc yelled something unintelligible, and threw three giant bolts of electricity at the ninja. Caesar hit the ground and rolled underneath, coming up quickly enough to engage once again with the mogknight.

Deciding that the ninja was sufficiently distracted now, Isaac wormed out to the very lip of his cavern. Taking a deep breath, he pushed off with his legs and flared out his wings. He had been plotting this flight earlier, and knew what he would do. He figured that he would just circle around the island, taking advantage of the rising warm air to keep him from crashing or going too quickly.

The mogknight, meanwhile, had not gained or lost a step to Caesar. The two of them just kept going back and forth on the offence and the defence. She slashed horizontally, and he parried. Each one at the same time tried to spin their weapons around the other's, which just resulted in the two weapons sliding down each other's lengths until both were touching at the hilt. The two leaned in, coming nose to nose in their attempts to over power the other fighter.

"Well, isn't this great, kupo?" she gritted her teeth.

"Brilliant," he replied, grinning. "It makes my job so much more fun when my victims actually fight back."

"Really, kupo?" she asked. "I always took you for the helpless victim kind of ruthless maniac."

"Too bad, but no," he shook his head. "I often do wish I were less powerful."

"Kupopo?" the mogknight demanded, shocked.

Caesar suddenly released his left hand from the hilt of his katana, and a knife made of shadows appeared in his grip. He lunged forward while the mogknight was still surprised, aiming for her face.

The mogknight threw her head back violently, going so far that her neck even began to hurt. The small knife lightly scratched her cheek, leaving a small line of blood.

Lightning flashed, and suddenly Montblanc was illuminated in a wreath of magical energy. He pointed with his rod, which jetted out a single line of electricity. Caesar pulled his hand back out of the way of the blow. The moogle turned the rod's tip over to the left, and the lightning bent in its course, turning to wrap around Caesar's form. Caesar launched himself up into the air with only the power of his toes, getting out of the lightning's grip.

Counting on this, Montblanc cancelled the energy spell, and spun so that his empty left hand was pointing at the retreating ninja. He whispered something, and instantly a pair of giant ice spikes shot out from the ground and the wall. Caesar pointed his hand at one of them, and a blast of darkness flew out, shattering the thing into a million tiny pieces. He turned to strike the other, but it struck him first, throwing him even higher up into the air.

The ice shards fell, melting almost instantly into a rain of warm water. The droplets pattered across the ground, and almost as soon as they finished, the large chunk of ice which Montblanc had summoned crashed into the lava in the lake. There was a deafening hissing sound as all the ice went almost instantly to steam form, and then the burning hot gas spread out. It filled the volcano with burning obscurity, and in the silence left by the hissing there was a small thump as Caesar touched the ground. All three of the combatants quickly fell silent, each wanting to use the smokescreen to their advantage.

The quietness lasted for several moments. Aside from the occasional low hiss of steam, not one of the three was making a discernable sound.

Then, suddenly, Caesar's voice filled the void. The roundness of the large cavern made it impossible to discern where the loud noise came from. "I've found you, mage."

There was a sharp sound, and then Montblanc's voice could be heard crying out.

"Montblanc," the mogknight's voice said, "I'm coming."

Caesar's laugh filled the cave. "Well, little Black mage, help is on its way. Congratulations, you have once again failed to come through."

Another hard sound, like somebody being punched, and then Montblanc's coughing could be heard. His voice came out from the steam, wavering and uncertain. "Shut up, kupo."

Another laugh, followed by the sound of something hitting rock. A small line of the steam opened up, and in it, Montblanc's form, thrown against the rock wall, and Caesar's form, standing at the far end of the emptiness, were visible. The scraping noise of a weapon became audible, and Caesar lunged toward Montblanc in his helpless state.

There was a loud metallic ring, and the flash of a few sparks, followed quickly by Caesar diving backwards. Everything went quiet, before Caesar whispered, "That was not a blade…"

"No, that, my friend, was a knightsword," came a strong voice. Marche's voice.

"Why, I hadn't known that you'd brought quite so many friends," Caesar said loudly.

From somewhere, the mogknight's voice replied, "They're not my friends, kupo, they just showed up. You seem to have been making lots of enemies."

"Something I intend to rectify now," the ninja called out, and then a line of darkness filled the rapidly dwindling hole of steam.

An instant before it would have hit Marche, a bright white light came up before him, and the darkness was stopped in its path. Caesar's footsteps could be heard for an instant, running in one direction or another, but stopped suddenly with another metallic clang. This was followed by several more clangs of differing intensity and frequency, and occasional flashes of light from a small area of the volcano. Soon, the steam began thinning, escaping out the hole in the top of the volcano and the entrance at the front. It then became visible that Caesar was fighting two opponents at once.

Ben, with both of his sabres out, blocked every slash that the ninja made whilst Jacqueline, her rapier moving too fast for an untrained eye to catch, made round after round of blinding attack routines. Both were keeping perfect step with each other as they pushed Caesar back at a steady pace in a circuit of the volcano. No words were spoken, and it looked as though no thought was going into their actions they were so fluid.

Caesar had no choice but to give more and more ground, growling in annoyance. Of course, he was managing to stave off every strike, and most of his own attacks were only narrowly blocked, but still, these two working together were the best combo he'd ever fought against. The weeks before when he had fought them individually, they had been pushovers. Combined, however, was a different story.

Once they had gone about halfway around the lake of lava, Caesar risked a glance over his shoulder. The rest of clan Nutsy was waiting for him in that direction, along with the dragoon who had been with these two. The mogknight was attending to Montblanc, the cut on her cheek leaving small rivulets of blood running down her face.

Suddenly, his thoughts crystallized. There was one missing. Where was the annoying little gunner.

He glanced over towards the island in the middle of the lake, and his worst fears were confirmed. The small brown moogle was standing there, slowly sawing through the many difficult knots which bound Pallanza and Eileen down.

He turned his attention back to the two warriors before him, and grinned, saying, "Well, while this has been most fun, I have to go now. Excuse me."

With that, his legs bunched, the mark on his left hand pulsed, and he jumped. His leap took him clear across the lava to stand on the island. There, Isaac suddenly stopped his work on the knots with his blade, and stared up at him.

"Why, I'd forgotten about you," Caesar chuckled. He drew back his blade for a finishing blow.

"Caesssar!" a low voice hissed, and the ninja turned to find a huge, well-muscled bangaa flying through the air at him with his spear leading.

The ninja turned away from Isaac, who promptly got back to sawing. He pointed at the dragoon with his katana, and waited, waited, waited…

The moment that the speartip would have pierced his face, Caesar slashed with his katana. It rang incredibly loud against the spearshaft, and darkness flowed up its length. Then, the katana's edge passed through the metal of the spearshaft, shearing it completely in two.

Maxwell, reacting quickly, dropped both ends of the spear, letting them keep going and land in the lava with a loud hiss. He reached out with one hand, and placed it on Caesar's shoulder. Using it as a vault, he flipped over the ninja, killing his momentum, and landing in a crouch. He released the shoulder, and his hand grasped the hilt of his own blade, drawing it and turning to face Caesar.

He had to block a slash that was already coming his way, and then the next several seconds were a blur to him. He had never been terribly good with his blade, so the blinding attack which the ninja launched at him was far beyond his normal abilities. It seemed as if he was simply acting on instinct, his hands moving faster than his mind could keep up with to block the slashes, stabs and chops. He took about three steps back, and was about to put a forth behind him, when he felt the heat on his foot. Glancing back, he realised he had run out of room.

Caesar stopped his attack suddenly, grinning. "You're done already, aren't you? Already run out of room?"

Maxwell hissed. "Not quite yet," he whispered, and then focused all of his concentration on the blade. The blade had been designed for this sort of thing, but when he was a gladiator, any magical abilities had been smothered. Thus, he had never actually tried any spellblades. He took a deep breath, and suddenly lightning burst into life along the length of the blade.

"Come along, then," he hissed, and lunged forward, his weapon weaving a trail of light in Caesar's vision.

Isaac was still sawing at all of the knots that the ninja had tied in the bonds. It also didn't help that this rope seemed so thick and tough that his blade didn't even bite into it. He glanced up, and saw Maxwell holding Caesar off, his blade wreathed with electricity. However, while the bangaa was doing an impressive job, it wasn't enough. Caesar was clearly the greater fighter.

Isaac sawed for about three more seconds, before muttering, "Ah, bullocks."

He pulled out his Longbarrel, and told Eileen and Pallanza, "Lean forward and away from each other." They did, and he pointed his gun at the rope, feeding it fire. A fireshot rocketed from the barrel, and instantly the ropes caught, the fire eating through incredibly quickly. Isaac grabbed up his blade again, and waited until the rope seemed thin enough. Then, he swung in one vertical chop, slicing the rope in two.

Isaac reached down and tugged the tattered, smouldering remains of the rope off of their wrists. The moogle went to help Eileen with her gag, but a strong hand on his wrist stopped him. He turned and saw Pallanza looking at him, with an expression quite different from the one he had always worn before.

"Issssaac," he whispered, "give me your blade."

Isaac passed it to him without question, and stared as the bangaa stood up, terribly straight-backed and strong. He rolled his neck once, then stepped slowly forward.

Maxwell jumped back, getting his midriff away from a slash, and came back with an two-handed overhead chop. He was already wearying, the aching exhaustion running through his arms. He had learned how to fight for hours at a time without rest and on next to no food, but against this foe, he had already become exhausted. He felt the block from the katana ringing down his wrists, and lifted one of his powerful legs into a kick.

Caesar blocked it with one hand, grabbing onto his ankle with a strength that astounded the dragoon. He tried backing off, but the ninja held him steady. He looked down, and met the hard eyes of Caesar. The ninja twisted his katana, knocking Maxwell's weapon out of his hands and into the lava.

With that, he reached forward and pushed Maxwell, releasing the leg. Maxwell fell back, landing heavily. His head was not an inch from the edge of the small island.

Caesar smiled, and drew back his arm, preparing to skewer the dragoon.

"Ssstop, Cccaesar," Pallanza hissed.

The ninja turned slowly to face the bangaa, his smile widening.

"He hasss no part in thisss."

"Oh, yes he does. I've done my research on all my foes. He's the reason that his friends released me from prison."

"Well, then you should be thanking, and not killing, him," Pallanza slowly raised his blade to point at his opponent's face. "_I _am the one you should be killing, for I am trying to ssstop you."

"Gladly…"

The two weapons met, and they sang, a constant cacophony of scraping metal. It was almost as though the weapons never left each other's edge as the two titans fought. Of course, they only had an island a few metres in diameter to have their battle upon, so it contained very little movement of anything other than their arms, feinting feints and predicting three blows from their current exchange.

Isaac, gazing at the two, suddenly felt something jabbing him in the side. Turning, he saw Eileen, glaring at him through her gag.

"Oh, right," he said, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, kupo."

The moogle reached around behind her head to untie the gag which was lodged in her mouth. After he had managed to undo the knot, Eileen spit out piece of fabric, and coughed a bit.

"Are you alright, kupo?" Isaac asked, concerned.

"Pass me your blade."

"Kupopo?"

"Give me your blade," she ordered through gritted teeth. Isaac, staring at her, caught the look in her eyes, and quickly passed his blade over. That expression scared him. It held the same rage that Ben carried with him in every battle.

Not pausing to thank him, Eileen took the weapon, and dragged the edge along her palm. Isaac gasped as he stared at her slashed hand, blood already welling up in it. She reached up to her neck, and ripped a chain off of it. At the end of the chain was the small gem she had stolen back in Tarentalas' armoury. Whereas before, the gem had held simply a tiny seed of orange, at current the seed had blossomed to small, pulsing nucleus. The nu mou quickly rubbed her blood over the surface of the crystal, and instantly the light all died down, back to the small seed it had been before.

Turning, Eileen clenched her bloody hand, and watched the battle, her expression hard, and her eyes sharp.

Isaac, for his part, simply backed off a bit. This was a different, more dangerous Eileen from the one he'd known since kindergarten. This was an Eileen who had known pain, and who was willing to inflict greater pain upon the one who had caused it.

Caesar and Pallanza, however, were still at it. The two hadn't stopped yet. One moment, the weapons were ringing constantly off of each other, attacking and blocking higher and higher up their forms. The next, Caesar broke off and suddenly stabbed directly at Pallanza's gut. The gladiator hopped carefully to the side, accepting a small scrape along his stomach in order to slash across and catch the ninja's arm with a shallow cut. Then they were back at it, fighting violently and viciously for the top position. Small droplets of blood flew from their respective wounds, most hitting the lava with a slight hiss.

At one point, both of their weapons disengaged, and simply wove round and around each other, predicting the other's movements. Then, Pallanza swung horizontally across, and Caesar blocked. His block, however, was almost a feint. For, the moment that the two pieces of metal even began to touch, he released his grip on the hilt. Instead, he thrust forward into the empty space with his left hand, a dark knife materialising there.

Pallanza's free hand clamped onto the wrist, stopping it in its tracks. Not missing a beat, Caesar reached out with his free hand and caught the hilt of his katana. He slashed across, over their two locked arms. Pallanza's blade came out, hitting the back of the katana and changing its course just enough to keep it off of his face. The two held each other's limbs akimbo, totally awkward and caught for a moment.

It was at this moment that Eileen made her move. Standing suddenly, she held her clenched right fist forward, blood dripping from it. She called out, "Alchimie!", and opened her palm.

Instantly, a brilliant, blinding orange light exploded from the open hand. It was so intense, so powerful, that even those standing on the lip of the volcano around the lava had to shield their eyes. Isaac, crouched next to the exhausted Maxwell, cried out and turned his head away closing his eyes. He heard the dragoon's gasp of shock next to him, and couldn't help but agree.

The light lasted for only a short time. Perhaps about five seconds. At around the three second mark, a scream echoed through the volcano's round cavern. As the light died, everyone slowly turned back to the three who were actually standing on the island.

Eileen was panting, her entire body heaving with the exertion, her open hand still held before her. The wound had sealed from the intense energy flowing through it. Her robes were ruffled from the discharge. Her eyes, however, were still just as hard and cold.

Pallanza still held Caesar's wrist. His grip, on both the wrist and the hilt of his weapon, were white-knuckled. His eyes were wide from surprise, and as he looked slowly down, he noticed that the dark knife which had been threatening to disembowel him had disappeared.

Caesar's eyes were glazed over in surprise. His skin was pale, a waxy shade of white, as he stared down at the massive hole drilled through his chest by the pure magical blast Eileen had used. The sides of the wound had already sealed from the power, but loss of blood was not what he would die of. No, the several missing organs there would be his poison.

Silence reigned for nearly a minute, as they all stood, mouths agape, and watched the shivering Caesar. The silence was not broken until Caesar's hand released the hilt of his katana, and it clattered off the stone. He sank to his knees, and as Pallanza released his wrist, fell face first to the stony floor below.

Everyone continued staring for a good minute. Nobody had the energy to move after the incredibly epic battle which had just played out before them.

Suddenly, everyone turned to look at Eileen as she coughed. Then she sobbed, gasping for air, and fell to her knees.

Afraid that perhaps the spell had demanded more from her than they'd all thought, Isaac and Maxwell hurried over to her side. The two caught her as she collapsed, and laid her out carefully on the stone. Isaac looked at her face, and saw that she was still gasping for air, clenching her eyes shut.

"Her p-pulsssse isss alright," Maxwell muttered, holding her wrist.

Isaac nodded over to him, and then, very slowly, whispered, "Eileen, kupo?"

She opened her eyes slightly, staring up at him, and Isaac almost shuddered himself. He didn't like this new look in her eyes. It disconcerted him.

"H-h-help me s-s-sit up."

The two nodded, and did so, each one wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

"How issss she?" Pallanza asked as he stepped up behind them.

"Physically, she seems fine," Maxwell replied, getting his voice back under control.

"I just wanted to tell all three of you sssomething," he whispered. Then, suddenly, knelt down before them, leaning on his blade. Maxwell, Isaac and Eileen, still supported by the other two, felt terribly awkward at this display. His face raised to look at them again, and the warrior told them, "The three of you, and your two friendsss over there, have the potential to become the greatesssssst warriorsss ever known. I have battled alongsside and againssst the heroessss of my age, and none ever showed the power that you five possssesssssss. Pleasssse, for the sssake of all, nurture your power. It will one day grow to sssssave ussss all again, I am sure."

The three stared on, surprised. Maxwell began opening his mouth to reply, "Well, thank you."

However, he was interrupted by a weak, cold laughter. All four turned to see Caesar kneeling in the center of the Seal of Sage, his katana clenched in his grasp.

"You have done well," he wheezed. "However, none of you will attain the chance to 'nature your power'. This world will suffer for what it has done to me, and you all shall be the first to feel my wrath."

With that, he whispered a word in some long dead language, and plunged the katana into his own chest, through his lung and heart. A grin of death on his face, the ninja fell down upon the seal, and blood poured from his wound. The blood at first spilled everywhere, but then quickly gathered to perfectly fill the circle in the centre of the seal. All four backed off as the seal burst into renewed white light, glowing incredibly bright. It built and built and built…

Then died, just as suddenly as it started. All of the assembled adventurers in the volcano stared on in horror, as, along with the nine others around it, the Seal of Sages was broken.


	43. The Worldwyrm

"We need to get out of here!" Marche roared from the lip. He had already ordered the others to go, and was simply waiting for the five in the centre of the lake of lava. The entire volcano was shaking, making it quite difficult for them to stay standing. All of the seals were still glowing, but there was something unhealthy and weak about each one. The souls at the centre of each seal were gaining in their brightness, and the blood in the centre of the Seal of Sages was quickly boiling while brightening to a cherry red.

"Isaac, fly!" Maxwell ordered.

"But Eileen, kupo…"

"I'll get her over, but I need some running space, and you're taking up room!"

Nodding, Isaac leapt and unfurled his wings. The heat from the lava once again aided him, carrying him across the lava with very little effort on his part. He landed next to Marche just as Pallanza leapt from the island. The gladiator was strong, and he could jump far, but he was no dragoon. For an instant it seemed as though he would fall in, but the moment that the bangaa came into his arms' reach, Marche grabbed him and pulled him the rest of the way. The two collapsed in a heap, then Maxwell grabbed Eileen and jumped.

He sailed the distance, landing with perfect balance next to Isaac. Looking over, Isaac noticed that the ghastly wound on his arm appeared to have healed over with Caesar's death.

Putting down the Alchemist, Maxwell asked her, "Can you walk?"

"Yes, I think so…" she muttered.

"Then let's go!" Marche ordered, having extricated himself from Pallanza.

The five rushed over to the entrance, heading in single file down the long corridor. Isaac, who was last in line, glanced back for an instant as he entered the path, and stopped to stare.

Light was being diffracted through each of the souls and shot as nine bright beams into the centre of the volcano. As more and more light was added to the centre, it began to move, and grow, and bulge in places. Soon, the luminescent outline of a colossal dragon was standing on the small island, slowly moving its giant head back and forth to observe its surroundings.

"Isaac!" Maxwell's voice growled at him. The dragoon stepped up behind him, and fell silent for an instant. "Dear Adrammalech."

"Let's go, kupo!" Isaac yelled, and they ran.

The path was quite long, the rock of the volcano being incredibly thick. Isaac and Maxwell quickly caught up with the others, and they went on for about a minute, running without issue. However, the five suddenly became aware of a change in the air around them. If possible, the temperature increased, and it seemed as though a light breeze was passing by them, cycling between being at their backs and their fronts.

Maxwell suddenly realised what it meant, and yelled out, "It's going to use its breath weapon on us!"

"Dammit!" Marche cursed.

"How much longer until we're out, kupo?"

"About thirty seconds, and then we have to cross the bridge."

"We don't _have _thirty ssseconds!" Maxwell yelled, beginning to panic. "We need to get out, now!"

"I think I have a plan," Marche whispered. "We just need to make the bridge!"

They kept running, at every moment expecting the cavern to fill with death. Finally, they saw the bright blue light coming from the end of the path, and suddenly they were out in the open air, rushing towards the bridge.

Marche, however, stopped, turning to face the entrance. He yelled out, "Guinness!" then got his shield down from off of his back. He began whispering something, and a white light gathered on the shield's surface. He held it out before him, facing the opening, and then Guinness began chanting. The light on the shield was amplified perhaps a hundred fold, and Marche crouched, bending his legs for strength.

It was at that moment that the dragon let his breath go. Isaac, Pallanza, Eileen and Maxwell were about halfway across the bridge, and Marche had yet to step onto it. There was a deep, powerful roaring noise, focused and amplified through the tunnel so that it blasted out at the five fleeing figures. This was followed by a rapid expulsion of air, and finally, a blast of pure, ultimate red flames.

The fire slammed into Marche's shield, and within one second the paladin had been pushed back about a metre from the sheer force. His shield held, however, repelling and reflecting the flames in all directions. Marche leaned forward into the blast, and suddenly he stopped moving forward, his feet finding purchase on the hard earth. He held the position for what seemed like forever, his every muscle screaming in protest at the hard labour. The skin on his arm which was touching the metal of the shield began feeling the sweltering heat. Guinness's chanting became somewhat strained, the white light beginning to falter. Marche began being pushed back again, his feet leaving deep treads in the earth. His voice barely audible above the roaring of the flames, the paladin screamed out some strange words, holding up his free hand. The light intensified once more, keeping back all of the heat again.

Then, the torrential breath attack ended, and Marche staggered forward at the sudden lack of pressure. He groaned, then fell to the ground. Standing beside the rest of the group, Guinness also passed out, Robert catching him on instinct.

"Maxwell!" Isaac yelled, jerking his head towards the fallen paladin. Maxwell nodded, and leapt across the gap to grab him. Isaac glanced at the assembled group, checking who was left. Montblanc and Guinness were knocked out, and Eileen exhausted, leaving Lindsay as their only source of powerful magic. Maxwell had no weapons left, and was on the brink of exhaustion. That left Caitlin, Jacqueline, Ben, Robert, Jocelyn, Pallanza, the mogknight, and himself. Most of them were injured as well, either from steam burns or from scratches and cuts during their scuffles with Caesar.

Maxwell landed shakily next to him, and Isaac asked him, "What do you know about dragons that could help us with this, kupo?"

"Not much," he said, putting the unconscious human on the ground. "The only weak points I can think of that are universal are situated behind the ear scales and at the junctions of the legs and the body. However, the dragon will probably destroy anybody who gets close enough to him." His face suddenly clouded over in thought, and he whispered, "There is also another possibility."

"What is it, kupo?"

"If somebody could get a direct hit inside of the mouth, they could probably get their weapon up through the roof of the mouth and into its brain."

"Let's save that option until we have no other left, kupo," Isaac suggested. "We don't want to lose anybody, kupo."

"Agreed," Maxwell nodded, blinking. He stumbled slightly, then sighed, and said, "Isaac, I apologize. I can't take part in this battle. I'm at my limit."

"No problem, kupo; you've done more than anybody could've asked for," the moogle assured him, patting the bangaa on the hand, as he couldn't reach his back. "How about if you and Lindsay guard over Marche, Montblanc and Guinness?"

"Why not have Lindsay in the fight?" Caitlin demanded, getting somewhat defended of her friend.

"No offence, kupo, but we want people who can _move_, and who can react with clear minds at the drop of a dime."

"What's a dime?" Caitlin asked, her face confused.

Isaac sighed. Right. Ivalice. "Drop of a gil, sorry."

"Okay," she shook her head. "I understand what you mean, I guess."

Nodding, Maxwell and Lindsay left, Maxwell carrying Marche and Guinness, while the summoner took care of Montblanc.

"Alright, let's do this, kupo," Isaac muttered, rolling his neck a bit. "It should be strong enough to leave the cave at any time."

It was at that moment that they heard the roar. All of them turned to the sound, amplified by the volcano's shape and opening. Every weapon they owned came out, and they watched the giant creature as it rose from the volcano.

It was incredible. At least sixty feet of shiny black scales and muscle. Every single one of them took a few steps back at the very sight of it. The thing was incredibly. Its wings, a hundred feet span while spread, beat the air into minor whirlwinds of their own. Its mouth brimmed with unreleased fire, and the eyes, oh the eyes! They were a sickly colour of yellow which were bright even in the day's incredible light. As it cast its gaze around the plateau, each one of the assembled group felt those eyes piercing into them, searing them to the core.

Then, with one more roar and one more beat of its wings, the Worldwyrm began making its way away from them, to the west.

"Where'ssss it going?" Robert shouted above the sound of the wingbeats.

"Baguba," Isaac breathed, dread for his home city filling him up as far as it could go. The wyrm had been sealed away trying to destroy Baguba Port. Where else would it go now that it was back? Suddenly, Isaac became aware that he was yelling. "We need to get its attention back to us, kupo! Anybody with range who can hit it, fire!"

With that, he pumped the trigger on the six-shot he had clamped in his paw, sending a small hail of bullets towards the creature. These, however, did essentially nothing. Most normal creatures could have taken the barrage with little damage being done. Standing just behind him, Jocelyn twanged her bow, sending several arrows after the creature. None of them, however, even got close to the thing.

Jacqueline, however, faired somewhat better. Pointing her hands at the retreating wyrm, she yelled, "_Zwei: Blitz und Blitz!_" Two forked tongues of lightning shot from her hands, reaching forward to grab and entangle the dragon.

The Worldwyrm stopped for a moment, turning back to see the source of this impertinence. Its eyes fell once again on that small group, and then something incredibly terrible happened.

It, in an incredibly reptilian and evil way, smiled. Isaac shuddered, feeling his blood become cold. They all knew that they were going to be the dragon's warm up for Baguba.

Then it was coming towards them. Isaac screamed, "Scatter, kupo! No teaming up and no partners! He'll burn us to ashes if there are any clumps, and I want as few casualties as possible! GO!"

As the dragon soared in, Isaac became conscious of an option that was open to him. If the reptile saw a target that was easier to catch than the others, it might direct its breath towards that one. He might not be able to fight this enemy, but he could draw the creature's blow once and give the others a chance.

He felt the others' presences moving away, and he held his arms out wide, waiting for the inevitable.

Then, the world began leaning in next to him. Isaac's eyes shot open, and he stared over to the side. The mogknight was running out in front of him, holding her blade. There was light, sound, space, and time leaning into the weapon, waiting to be released into one blow. The Worldwyrm's flames came in at the two of them, and her blade swung across.

The mogknight's Ultima energy exploded from her, smashing the dragon's breath away from the two moogles. Isaac felt the normal exhaling of breath from the aftershock of Ultima, and suddenly the mogknight's strong hand had him by the front of the shirt, dragging him several metres and throwing him behind a few rocks.

The mogknight landed next to him, and instantly yelled at him, "Famfrit! What do you think you were _doing_, kupo?"

"Buying us some time, kupo!" Isaac said.

"How, by going all pariah on us?" she snapped.

"Someone had to go, kupo, it may as well have been me!"

She slapped him open-handed, and he flew several metres back, landing heavily on his back. His breath left him, and instantly, the mogknight was over him again, hefting him up bodily.

"What kind of _crap _is that!?" she hissed at him.

"I'm not important to this group, kupo."

"_You _said that you didn't want any casualties, kupo! How do you think we would all feel if _you _suddenly became the casualty?"

Isaac glared at her, but her hard stare back matched and defeated his. He looked away, and she dropped him to the ground.

"Well, it looks like you could use my help," Eileen said awkwardly.

The two moogles stared over at the nu mou, who stood there staring at the two of them.

"What are _you_ doing here, kupo?" Isaac demanded, getting up and brushing himself off. There was a wrinkle in the front of his shirt from where she'd grabbed him, but he didn't bother with it.

"You guys need me to bring that dragon down. Literally."

"How so, kupo?" the gunner inquired.

"Well, if I can get my spell right," she shrugged, "he'll be on the ground. And then if my second plan works, his breath won't work."

They all heard the roar which signalled the approach of the Worldwyrm. Isaac looked sighed and whispered, "I guess we don't have any other choice."

"Alright," Eileen said, standing up. "Stand back."

The two moogles backed up, staring at the nu mou as she shook her head and crouched down. There was quite a bit of tension between the two of them, and neither wished to speak.

"Look, Isaac," the mogknight finally muttered. "Just in case we _don't _meet again, kupo," she grinned, and winked at him, "the name's Lini."

Isaac stared at the mogknight, and opened his mouth to say something. However, whatever he did say, it was drowned out by the roaring of the Worldwyrm. The two turned to face the noise, and saw Eileen in the middle of her spellcasting. All of the others were down, hiding behind boulders or other bits of terrain.

Suddenly, Eileen's back straightened, and she cried, "_Meteorit!_"

There was silence for a moment. Isaac stared at Eileen, standing there before the charging dragon, and he felt sure that the spell hadn't worked. He began stepping forward, but Lini's strong hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Then, almost like a candle springing to life, a flame appeared in the sky. Everyone stared at the plume as it slowly grew in size and fell. The Worldwyrm also seemed to notice, and stare up at it from its position in the sky. However, it couldn't get out of the way, and then the meteorite slammed down into its back.

The dragon fell, plummeting down. Isaac and Lini next to him each shielded their heads and turned away from the sound as it hit the ground. Dust shot across the plateau, along with dozens of shards of rock. The noise hit them at almost the same time, and the two yelled.

The two looked back at about the same time, and took in the situation with absolute dread.

Eileen was on her knees, the force of the spell having drained nearly all of her little remaining power. They could see from there that she was breathing very deeply, and leaning forward on her hands.

The Worldwyrm had crashed to the earth about a hundred metres away. It was thrashing about in pain and rage, roaring its protest to the world. It looked about, and those yellow eyes focused on Eileen.

Hit sucked in its breath, preparing to blow.

Isaac drew his blade and stepped forward, Lini doing the exact same thing.

Eileen looked up, grinned, and reached into her robe.

Her hand came out, and in it, there were clenched ten perfect judgepoints.

She threw them forward, and yelled out, "Ultima!"

Isaac started yelling something, but it stopped making noise within an instant.

The sky turned dark, and flying down from it, came Ultima.

It was beautiful. The totema of the nu mous had been designed for perfection in knowledge and wisdom. It was a giant, blue-armoured figure, armour designed apparently more for channelling magic than for protection. From its back sprouted six perfect wings, carrying it in its graceful flight.

The Worldwyrm stared at it, and for the first time in its existence, the great dragon knew fear.

Ultima touched down lightly next to Eileen, at least fifty times her size. It looked down at her, and for a moment, Isaac was almost sure he could hear their voices. Eileen's voice was easy to identify, but Ultima's was not. Ultima's voice was not one, but millions and millions of voices speaking as one. The moogle was sure he could make out the voices of Ezel, Eileen, Eugene, and Guinness mixed in with them, but he couldn't be sure. Both of their voices sounded like they were being spoken through a tube, but echoing at the same time.

Then, Ultima looked over at the dragon. It held its hands forward, and a massive globe of light appeared in them. The totema pointed at the Worldwyrm, and the globe flew forward.

When the globe hit, it looked like the world exploded for a moment. It was indescribable. Light, everywhere. Isaac felt naked before that incredible brilliance, for all the half an instant it lasted.

Then, the world came back to normal. Ultima was gone, and Eileen was lying prostrate on the ground. The Worldwyrm was still stuck on the earth, but the fire had left its jaws.

Lini looked over at him.

"Let's do this, kupo," she grinned, and charged.

With that, all of them charged, weapons out, each of their personal abilities manifesting. Robert's armour was gleaming far more than the simple sunlight should have caused, and his spear was beginning to catch holy fire. Caitlin closed her eyes for a moment as she ran, and when they opened again, there was a strange, new level of focus behind them. Jacqueline's free hand began glowing with a prepared ice spell. Ben began glowing blue, and suddenly he was running much faster, almost going on all fours instead of just two legs. Jocelyn was simply running one moment, and the next she had disappeared, right before their eyes. Pallanza held his blade up, and suddenly it was made from pure fire, no metal left in it. Lini held her blade ready, just running in perfect stride. Isaac, next to her, refilled his six-shot, then drew out the other one.

When the group met with the dragon, none were sure what they were expecting. Perhaps that it would slaughter them all in one fell swoop. Perhaps that it would simply fall beneath them, and that they would not suffer a single loss.

What did happen, however, was nowhere near what they had expected. The Worldwyrm glanced lazily over at them, and then just swept its tail across, promptly knocking every one of them over.

"Thisss won't work," Robert hissed as he got up, stretching his neck.

"We need somebody to distract it so that we can get closer, kupo!" Isaac muttered, going over who might be able to do that in his head.

"I've got it handled," Ben volunteered, reaching up to his hair.

"Are you sure?" Jacqueline asked, giving him a concerned look.

"Positive," he whispered, pulling his hair out of its ponytail and giving it a shake. Even as he did so, the brown hair took on a slightly red hue in places.

Blue light drifted up into his body from his pin, and then Ben was off running, incredibly faster than a human should have been able to do so. Once again, he quickly went down to all fours, tearing across the distance to the Worldwyrm.

The giant dragon looked at him, then tried sweeping its tail again. With a cat's agility, Ben jumped sideways, clamping all four of his hands and feet onto the side of a boulder, then threw himself upward and forward as the tail closed. He sailed harmlessly over the dragon's attack, and continued running, his black cloak billowing out behind him.

"Go, kupo!" Isaac yelled, and they went, confident that the blue mage would keep them protected long enough for them to get to him.

Ben, meanwhile, was in quite a game of cat and mouse with the great beast. It hadn't brought its claws into the battle yet, thankfully, preferring to toy with its victim by following him with its large head. The mage watched it carefully, paying close attention to the muscles he could see along the neck. Those yellow eyes were only more intimidating at this close range. They seemed to swallow him whole, carrying him along into the depths of darkness and evil, wandering into that place in all people's minds where the ancient, primal darkness reigned. Cold, they made him feel, and frightened. So frightened that he could feel his legs shaking…

Ben forced himself out of it just in time to see the muscle twitch he'd been waiting for. The mage threw himself sideways, out of the way of those cavernous jaws. They slammed hard into the ground, and tore up the shear rock. Ben felt the hard vibrations as he landed, and it took all of his skill not to simply trip. However, he quickly regained his balance, and sent magic to his fingers, and from his fingers to the air around them. He made a motion like throwing a ball with his empty hand, and the wind whipped into a small tornado.

Ben scrambled backwards as the wind hit the Worldwyrm in the face, forcing it to screw up its eyes in disorientation and pain. When those yellow eyes opened again, they were outraged and furious, and looking for prey.

"Oh shit," the blue mage muttered, throwing himself backwards in another jump.

His jump only increased the force of the impact when the dragon's giant clawed hand smashed into him. The mage cried out in pain, and flew back. He hit the ground and rolled, totally unconscious, until it was just before the dragon's face.

The Worldwyrm reared its reptilian head back, preparing to feed for the first time in centuries.

Jacqueline ran up in front of its face, however, and pointed up, throwing two handfuls of icy shards at it. She stood there, alone before the giant, over Ben, and continued to cycle more and more energy into her spells, the ice holding the dragon back from pain. After several seconds of this, the red mage began shaking where she stood, and finally, her legs gave out and she had to kneel, still keeping up the attack.

"Jacqueline, grab him!" Isaac screamed at her. He was still standing quite far back from the dragon, his moogle legs not carrying him as quickly as the others. However, both of his guns were out, and he began channelling his energy into them, pulling their triggers.

The Worldwyrm started lunging forward with its head to finish off the two mages when the first bullet hit it. The shot slowed the head slightly, however, not nearly enough to cause any difference. The next eleven stopshots, however, as they slapped into its face, quickly brought the speed down.

Jacqueline, seeing her chance, grabbed Ben and hoisted him up, dragging him back and away from the dragon. Even as she heaved him up by his shoulders, however, the dragon's head was regaining speed. The head smashed into the earth again, and she had to duck a bit as rock fragments pattered over the two. The dragon was somewhat disoriented by its impact, but quickly focused its eyes on them again.

Before it could react, however, its attention was drawn away. The sword dragging across its softer underbelly concerned it more with getting the two exhausted fighters. The Worldwyrm quickly slammed its belly down onto the earth, attempting to squash the upstart maggot that had attempted to so attack it.

Caitlin jumped out of the way of this attack before it even came. Her distracting had worked, and now she was just working on holding the great beast's side claws at bay. They came at her working in perfect unison, each one attacking where she was dodging from the other's feint. Caitlin, however, was doing remarkably well at fighting the two off. The long ribbon on her sword fluttered in the small air currents that the dragon's swipes were causing. She moved like a dancer through the claws and scales and muscle, spinning and ducking and jumping, only very occasionally swinging her sword in order to slightly change the direction of an errant claw.

Quite likely the most impressive part of this display, however, was the fact that the young woman was fighting with her eyes shut. The girl's eyes weren't even racing or seeking under those sealed eyelids, simply remaining serene and placid. Her body seemed to move of its own accord as she danced between the blows.

However, despite this impressive display, the Worldwyrm's two limbs were winning. She was slowly being pushed backwards toward a small patch of boulders, where her dancing would be completely ineffective. In fact, she quite likely would have lost that battle, if it hadn't been for the fact that at that moment, Robert showed up.

The templar, who had seen his friend running underneath the dragon's belly, knew of her need, and had run all the way around the dragon from the other side (having to avoid that tail several times) to join her. He ran up as one of the claw came at her from behind, and quickly threw his weight sideways, slamming into the arm with all of his strength. His attack pushed the swipe away from Caitlin, giving her room to step easily into out of the way of the other hand's attack.

Caitlin didn't even greet the other's presence, simply continuing the battle. Robert, however, didn't mind. He was used to the way that the girl got when she fought. Guinness had put it best once when he'd said that she had, "All the beauty of a spring drizzle and all the strength of a hurricane." Robert's job was generally to simply keep out of her way and help her when she needed it.

Not that that meant that Rob had been recruited simply to watch out for Caitlin while fighting. Oh no. He had his own uses in combat.

The bangaa twirled his spear up so that he held one end in either hand, and the shaft was laid across the bare back of his neck. With that, he ducked under one of the arms, then spun, smacking the metal against the scales. Knowing that the hand would come back to try and destroy him, Robert twirled back the other way, releasing his spear with his left hand. Holding the entire heavy weapon with just his right hand, the bangaa twirled it away from the back of his neck, slamming its point into the softer scales of the palm. Robert then brought his left hand back, smacking it into the butt end of the spear. The tip actually broke the scales of that hand, driving into flesh beneath.

The dragon let out a bellow of rage at being injured by a mere mortal, then swept both hands across at the same time at the impertinent pair. Robert, seeing that Caitlin was in the way of this attack, quickly reached back to grab the ribbon of her sword. Giving a hard tug, he pulled her almost completely out of the way. Unfortunately, the claws still managed to reach her, leaving four long, yet shallow gashes in her back.

This, however, let him open to attack. The bangaa began taking a step back, but the claw caught him. Robert yelled as the grip crushed in around him, but the sound was stopped as the air got squeezed from his lungs. Rob wheezed in agony as the hand squeezed the life slowly from him.

Suddenly, the dragon roared in agony again, and released its grip on the battered templar. He fell down and hit the ground hard. He gasped, getting air back into his lungs, and looked up.

He saw, hanging down from the dragon's shoulder, Lini. She held her blade, dripping with fresh dragon blood from its path through the dragon's armpit, lazily in her paw. She winked at him, then swung back up onto the dragon's back as Caitlin rushed over, her eyes open, to help him get out of his ruined armour.

Lini ran along the top of the dragon, going to the back of its neck. She looked down, and knew in an instant that those scales were far too thick and hard to be pierced without the aid of Ultima. Sighing, she kept running getting to the top of the head. Here, she took the liberty to swing her blade at one of those eyes. A scaly eyelid slid shut over it, and her blade simply rung off of it ineffectively.

Growling her annoyance, Lini hopped off the edge of the mouth, being careful to jump far enough to prevent the dragon from snapping her up in mid-fall. She landed, and spun around to face the great beast's head.

It looked down at her balefully, and then lunged forward. The mogknight turned out of the way of the attack, and swung her blade as she did so. It connected with the base of one of the Worldwyrm's teeth, and sheered the thing right off. The dragon pulled back a bit, partly in shock, and partly in pain.

It stopped for a moment there, glaring at the mogknight, and then swung sideways at her. She jumped back a step, and it slammed its jaws shut almost on her. Lini, however, simply held out her gauntleted hand, and the jaws stopped moving on the piece of armour.

Lini stared at the dragon in the eye for a moment as the two stood there, simply watching each other. A moment later, however, it simply lifted her up off the ground, its mouth spreading into that grin again.

"Oops…" she actually muttered. "Hadn't counted on that, kupo."

Isaac, standing on the ground at the dragon's side, stared on in horror. He knew that there was nothing he could do to help the mogknight in this situation, and it looked as though everybody else was either preoccupied with holding off another one of its limbs or were out of the battle.

"Isssssaac," Robert hissed, limping up from behind him. "You'd do anything to ssssave her, right?"

"Yes, kupo. Why?"

"Take my knightssssword."

"Kupopo?"

"Jusssst take it," he ordered, passing the heavy weapon over to the moogle.

"What do I do with it?" he demanded.

"Hold it out in front of you." With that, the bangaa reached down and easily lifted him up off the ground.

"What are you doing, kupo!?"

"Moogle javelin."

"_WHAT!?_"

"Have fun," the bangaa said in a manner which Isaac found sadistic.

With that, Robert threw Isaac as hard as he could at the dragon, and Isaac made a last request to Famfrit for the templar's death.

The dragon, having not noticed any of this, tossed the mogknight up into the air, preparing to catch her in its mouth.

Isaac saw his mark coming up, and extended the heavy, awkward weapon in his paws.

The sword pierced through the skin of one of the dragon's rear legs, and lodged there.

Isaac released the blade and kept flying, using his wings to turn around and see what had happened.

The dragon reared its head back in pain, just missing swallowing the mogknight whole.

Isaac, grinning, turned his attention back to his own situation in time to see the dragon's muscled tail as it smashed into him from the side.

Several of the moogle's bones broke from the blow, and he was thrown down out of the air. He hit the ground hard, and rolled over end over end several times, finishing by hitting his head against a rock. Darkness reached up to consume him, and Isaac didn't fight it.

The dragon spun around to face this latest upstart who had dared harm it. At current, two of its legs were quite limp, and one of its teeth had been cut out. In short, the thing was pissed, and it wanted to kill something. _Now_.

Its head lunged forward, preparing to snap up this moogle instead of the other female one which had just escaped, thinking that perhaps he would be tasty.

However, the dragon's hopes were stopped when a bangaa it did not recognize ran forward and scooped up the fallen moogle, running with him.

Oh, if the bangaa wanted to run, it would have to run _fast_, the dragon decided, and lunged forward quickly, working all of its funtional limbs to move after them.

Pallanza looked over his shoulder, and swore as he saw that the dragon was giving case. There was no way he could outrun it. Honestly, it was the Worldwyrm. What could he do to outrun it?

Making his decision, Pallanza sighed in annoyance, and dropped the moogle. He turned around, and faced the dragon's charge, prepping himself. He stared ahead, watching the jaws opening. He judged their width, and their distance away, then planted his feet on the hard rock, hoping for some sort of a purchase.

When the jaws were about to close around him, Pallanza's arms suddenly shot out, and each one wrapped around a tooth in the dragon's mouth. Using these as his handholds, he screamed, and pushed back against the dragon's attack.

Both of them stopped moving, forward or back, simply standing there holding each other in position. The dragon looked shocked at having been stopped. Pallanza, on the other hand, was far too busy with keeping the beast at bay to feel anything. He simply closed his eyes, and dug his feet in. The mighty bangaa's form was shaking terribly with the effort, but he kept it up, just holding the dragon at bay.

Pallanza's breathing, however, betrayed how much of a strain this was placing upon his body. It was quick and shallow, and becoming faster and faster every moment. A low groan escaped his throat, and it very slowly began building in pitch and strength. Soon, he was screaming from the effort and pain of holding his position. The ground beneath his feet began showing cracks from the enormous pressure being placed upon it.

At that moment, Lini limped over. Her landing from being tossed into the air had not agreed with her, causing her to twist her ankle on impact. However, she had gone in pursuit of the dragon after seeing the tail hit Isaac. Now, here she was, seeing Isaac knocked completely out cold, and Pallanza holding the great dragon at bay. Her first reaction was to go to the fallen moogle and see if he was alright, but she knew that she had more pressing issues.

"Pallanza, kupo!" she called as she ran up. "How can I help?"

"Get a blow of Ultima off into itsss mouth!" Pallanza screamed, his eyes scrunched tightly shut.

Nodding, the mogknight held her blade up vertically before her, and began focusing on it. She felt for that reserve of ultimately powerful spiritual energy she carried with her, and tried feeding it into the sword.

It wouldn't go.

She tried again, narrowing her eyes and even touching the blade to her forehead.

Nothing.

"Lini!" Pallanza yelled.

"I can't!" she cried, cursing herself. "One's my limit!"

"Dammit!" he screamed, leaning in.

Then, very slowly, like the turning of a terrible, dark tide, there was movement. It was noticeable to nobody but Pallanza, but there it was. He felt himself slowly being pushed back no more than a centimetre. However, that one centimetre told Pallanza something. That something was that he had lost.

Pallanza growled, and tried planting his feet even harder against the rock. However, it was over, and the Worldwyrm also knew it. Its terrible yellow eyes focused on Pallanza, and the bangaa knew dread greater than any he had ever experienced. He had failed. The Worldwyrm would eat him, and most likely the helpless Isaac with him. Then, it would devour the rest of their group, along with the perfect Lini, and then it would go to Baguba, and destroy everything. It was his fault.

The gladiator felt the Worldwyrm's maw slowly surrounding him, until he was halfway into its mouth. His eyes wandered down to the blade at his hip, but he knew it was useless. There was no way that he could grab it and have enough time to drive it into the roof of the mouth before the dragon bit him in half. If Lini couldn't get another charge of Ultima off, they were done.

This was the end.

Suddenly, Pallanza felt a strange tug at his back. Then another, harder. Then, there was a great pulling sensation behind him, attempting to pull him, the dragon, and the very ground he stood upon backwards towards it. His legs grew weak at the draw of space. Then, the terrible noise of the dragon's breath all around him began whistling by, heading back towards that same point. The bangaa chanced a look behind him, over his shoulder, and the sight he got was the most glorious one he had ever seen.

At one point which he couldn't quite make out, there was a brilliant light. This luminance was made of every single colour within and beyond imagination, all at once, and it was making the intertwining noises of existence and death. The very universe bent in to feel its presence, and to be a part of it, and time began following suit.

Pallanza smiled in triumph. Lini had managed to pull off another charge of Ultima.

With the power built up, the weapon it was bound to unleashed it. The air ripped as the blast of pure energy passed through it, flying right by Pallanza's face and ripping into the skin of the dragon's mouth.

Ultima discharged throughout the Worldwyrm's brain, ripping the entire muscle to shreds, and leaving the dragon quite incredibly dead.

Pallanza suddenly felt the pressure being exerted on him stop, and he jumped out of the dragon's mouth before it collapsed to the ground. The massive creature hitting the earth caused a minor tremor, shaking all those who were still standing. They all stared at the fallen beast before them. The Worldwyrm.

They had just defeated the greatest dragon that had ever existed.

Robert, who still stood, albeit shakily, fell to his knees at the realization. He was quickly tackled over by Caitlin, who wrapped her arms around him in a fierce hug and started screaming out their victory. Jacqueline, the only one of the five friends present who was conscious, laughed weakly at the feat. She had just witnessed one of the greatest battles that had most likely ever taken place. And, much to her annoyance, she had done very little work in it.

Glancing over at Ben, who she had lain next to the also unconscious Eileen, she muttered, "Glory 'og."

Pallanza turned to look at Lini, who stood there with a dumbfounded expression on her face, her blade lying fallen at her feet.

"You did it!" he cried, grabbing her up into a hug.

"But…" she murmured, "I didn't, kupo."

"What?" he demanded, surprised. "Then who did?"

Lini gestured over her shoulder, and Pallanza looked.

There stood Jocelyn, holding her bow out before her as though she had just released a shot from its string. She was shivering, and Pallanza could see the burn mark on her bowstring. The burn mark which was very similar to that on Lini's blade. The burn mark caused by the use of Ultima.

He approached her slowly, and looked her in the eyes. There was something he recognized there, so he whispered, very softly, "Eldena?"

That one word snapped her out of her reverie. The viera looked up at him with a glare in her eyes, then punched him in the jaw. He fell back several feet, landing heavily on his rump. Quickly, he looked back towards Jocelyn, but the assassin had disappeared.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Isaac opened his eyes very slowly, the light stinging them. Where was he? The last thing he could remember was stealing that airship… no, there was more… fighting a dragon-ninja in a volcano… no, that wasn't it… ah, being hit in the face with a dragon's tail. That was it.

_Wait, _he thought, _what?_

The moogle forced himself to open his eyes wide, and sat up quickly. He instantly wished he hadn't, as pain exploded throughout his chest and body. He gasped, and crouched over, wrapping his arms around his body.

"You're 'wake," a familiar voice said.

Isaac glanced up, and saw Jacqueline, sitting at a table. She was wearing very light clothing, just a plain dark red shirt with a pair of light, short pants. Looking at his surroundings, Isaac saw that they were in a small, plain room. The table at which Jacqueline was seated was at the centre, with a pile of bandages on it. There were two beds with their heads against the wall, one of which Isaac was lying within. In the other, Isaac could see Ben's head resting on a pillow.

"What happened, kupo?" Isaac groaned.

"Well, you and Ben 'ere got your arses 'anded to ye, Maxwell and I did nothing, an' Eileen saved the day."

"I know all those parts, kupo," he muttered. "In fact, I can feel the 'arses handed to' part right now. What happened after I passed out?"

"Well, Pallanza and Lini were pretty much screwed, then Jocelyn used Ultima on the dragon's mouth, and killed it."

"Kupopo?"

"Oh, an' 'en she disappeared."

"Great, kupo," Isaac muttered. "Are my legs broken?"

"Nope."

"Great," he replied, then slowly turned and lowered himself onto them. He hobbled over to the table and took a seat, sighing as he did so. "So how long have we been out?"

"'Bout two days."

Isaac whistled, nodding. "What all has happened since then?"

"Well, to start, we're 'eroes."

"Kupopo?"

"Yeah," she laughed. "Don't ye remember? We killed the Worldwyrm?"

"Right, kupo. And so we're heroes now?"

"'Fraid so."

"Well that's a switch, kupo," he muttered. "And where are we?"

"Place Max 'n I rented for while you all 'ealed up."

"Uh-huh. And where are the others, kupo?"

"Clan Nutsy are at the military 'ospital, 'cause their 'ealer's down and all, Lini disappeared the night we came back, and Max's out buyin' some more food. Eileen, well, uh… she's…"

"Where is she, kupo?"

"Next door," Jacqueline said, jerking her head to the left. "She 'asn't come out since she woke up from 'er coma a few days ago."

"Great, kupo," Isaac whispered, shaking his head. "Do we have anything to eat?"

"What?" she asked, surprised. "Is 'at all you 'ave to say?"

"What'd you expect, kupo?" Isaac demanded, surprised.

"Uh, well I'd kinda hoped 'at you'd go in 'ere, and sweep 'er off 'er feet'n all to make 'er feel better."

"And why is that _my _responsibility, kupo?"

"Because _you_'re the one 'o wants 'er to fall in love with ye, and you also get along with 'er better'n the rest of us?"

Isaac opened his mouth to speak, and then sighed. "Dammit, kupo," he muttered. "By the time I'm done, kupo, Max had better be back with some food."

With that, he walked out of the door of the room shakily, and made a left, heading in the direction Jacqueline had indicated with her head. He went along until he found another door, and stopped at it. He took a deep breath, and then knocked softly on it.

"Eileen?" he called. He waited several seconds for an answer, and then knocked again, harder. "Eileen." When no answer came, Isaac took a deep breath, and slowly pushed open the door.

Isaac stepped forward through the threshold, looking around the room carefully. It almost looked like nobody had been living in it. The sheets were in perfect order, the ground was clean. The only thing that was moved at all was one chair, where Eileen sat with her head lying on the table. Her face was away from Isaac.

Isaac walked over slowly, and sat next to her. He was quiet, just looking at her. Once again, this was an Eileen he was not used to. She was supposed to be powerful and dominating, not quiet and subdued.

"Eileen," he whispered, not knowing anything else to say.

She remained quiet for several moments, and then replied, her voice hoarse, "Go away."

"No, Eileen," he said, remaining very quiet. "I'm worried about you. We're all worried."

She didn't reply again, and Isaac sighed in annoyance.

"Look, if you're not going to talk to me, kupo, I'll just talk to you."

Once again, she said nothing, so he went on.

"You're my best friend. I've known you for as long as I can remember, and you've always been there for me. So I'm not going to sit by and watch you wallow in your sorrow when you should be celebrating like a hero, kupo."

"I'm not a hero!" she spat, turning to face him.

"Yes, kupo, you are!" Isaac assured her. "Without you, all of us would be dead. Not just our friends, kupo, but everyone."

"Does it make a difference, though?" she demanded, placing her head back down on her arm. "I couldn't save the one who counted. If I'd just been faster, I could have stopped all of this."

"If you had been there when Caesar showed up, kupo, you'd be dead too!" Isaac countered. "There was nothing you could have done to help. Nothing _any _of us could have done to help. We were wrong to split up, kupo. We all should have just focused on one target."

"That doesn't change things, though!"

"Yes, it does! You need to realize that people are alive because you were there. We couldn't have defeated Caesar or the Worldwyrm without you. You're a hero."

"Stop saying that!" she yelled at him. "I'm not a hero! I'm not! I couldn't save him!"

Isaac sighed. "You miss him. I underst—"

"No, you don't understand, Isaac!" she retorted. "Nobody close to you died! You didn't feel his body! You didn't have to look at his eyes…"

"I didn't," Isaac admitted. "But, I do have to look at your eyes. I don't want your eyes to be dead, because they are right now."

Eileen opened her mouth, then closed it and looked away. Isaac just caught her whisper.

"You don't know what he meant to me…"

"Tell me, kupo. I'm your friend, this is what I'm here for."

"He was…" she hesitated. "Isaac, Auggie was the closest thing I've ever had to…" She stopped.

All of a sudden, Isaac understood. Back home, Eileen's father had died when she was only two years old. She always told him that she remembered nothing of the man, just a few images and sounds. It was a topic that she hadn't liked to discuss, even in St Ivalice.

Then, she had come over to Ivalice, and everything had been different. She had power, she was becoming more and more well known, and most importantly, someone who had filled that role left vacant for such a long time. The loss of Auggie…

Isaac sighed, and muttered, "Okay, kupo, I guess that you do have reason to be depressed."

"Thanks," she replied, dropping her head back into her hands. "Are you going to leave me alone, now?"

"No, kupo," Isaac told her bluntly.

In response, she simply groaned and turned her head away again. "Just go away."

"No, kupo," he repeated. "I'm not leaving you while you're like this. You need somebody here."

"I don't want you here."

"Then what _do _you want, kupo?"

"I…" she let her breath out. "I want to go somewhere. Anywhere that doesn't bring back memories. I don't want to go back to Cadoan for a long, long time."

"Well, we can do that, kupo," Isaac exclaimed. "Where were you thinking? I've been pining for Baguba a bit lately."

"No. I don't want to go anywhere that will have heard of all this. In Baguba they'll be throwing parades and treating us like kings. I just want… normalcy. Indifference."

"Okay…" Isaac continued, shrugging. "How about Muscadet, then?"

She paused, and glanced over at him. "I've never been to Muscadet."

"Me neither, kupo. I've always wanted to go, though."

She turned away, shaking her head. "It isn't that easy, though…"

"Yes it is, kupo. As soon as Ben and I are good enough to walk, we'll take the airship back to Cyril." He considered not telling her his next piece of information, but he knew she needed it. "Quin's there."

"It would be nice to see him…"

"We can meet him there, kupo, and then return the airship. Then, we can go the rest of the way on foot. Three week journey, I think."

"But we can't just go…"

"Yes we can, kupo. I'll go and tell Jacqueline and Maxwell right now," he said. "The four of us don't want all this publicity either."

She was silent for a few seconds. Then, she whispered, "You're serious, aren't you?"

"Of course. I'm leaving now. Get some sleep, kupo. And I want to see you at dinner tonight. You need some food."

That said, Isaac stood up and began turning away. He was stopped by the feeling of Eileen's hand touching his paw. His pulse quickened, and he turned back to face her.

"Yes, kupo?"

She very slowly pulled him in toward her and put her arms around him. Isaac, slowly reached forward and did the same, rubbing her on the back.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't mention it, kupo," he replied, pulling slowly out of the hug. He nodded to her, and walked out of the room, closing the door as he went.

As soon as the door clicked shut, he bent over double and took several deep breaths. Once he was back in control, he limped back down the hallway and into the room with Jacqueline and Ben.

"'Ow'd it go?" the red mage asked as he walked in.

In response, Isaac collapsed onto the ground, shaking from his nerves.

"So, well 'en?" she grinned.

"I hate you so much right now, kupo," Isaac muttered, and then burst out laughing. "So why is it that I want to kiss you?"

"I 'ave that affect on people," Jacqueline shrugged. "So what decision 'id you two come to?"

"Oh, right, kupo. We're moving to Muscadet."

"Sounds good. 'Ey, isn't 'at where Thom said 'e was settin' up 'is new business?"

"Oh, right, kupo…"

Jacqueline's grin widened. "Sounds like another half-crazed adventure's on its way."

"So long as I don't have to fight any dragons, kupo," Isaac shrugged, "I'll be fine."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A/N: So, Icey is now officially stressed out of his little vulpine head. In other news, my hiatus begins… now!


	44. Opportunity of a Lifetime

A/N: Icey's back! Hey, y'all, I'd just like to apologize in advance for any errors that follow. I'm typing on a European keyboard, so the y's and the z's are mixed around and the apostrophe, the quotation marks, the colon and the semicolon are all in odd places. Now that I check, so is the question mark. But hey, now I can do cool stuff like this: ßöä§! Isn't that amazing? I mean, wow!

Also, once again related to the European keyboard thing, forgive me any terribly awkward wording for the next few chapters. I'm switching freely between two languages, and neither one of them is english, so I'm having some trouble right now. Attribute any general silliness to the same source.

Anyways, yeah, I'm back, and you'd better review. I haven't asked for one in three months, so get to it! Enjoy!

The setting sun cast a warm glow over the majestic forest below. The trees reached up in massive brown and green fingers, as if attempting to grab on to a lion's mane of fire. A few small flocks of birds played throughout the treetops, dodging over and under and in between with reckless abandon and comfort. All of the daylight creatures were quickly making their ways back to their respective burrows, or dens, or other such habitations, while the creatures of the night began making their arrivals. Overall, it was an incredibly calm and deceiving image that the natural world cast around the fabled city of Muscadet.

The great City of Trees lay directly in the centre of the Materiwood. The thing was a work of beauty and envy to all visitors. Trees carried the weight of many large wooden platforms. These platforms were all connected via differing methods, from well-constructed, wooden bridges, to simple lines one had to crawl across. On the platforms were all of the buildings which made up the city. There were tiny houses on the smaller platforms, nothing more than very basic wooden structures. However, on the larger of these, there were larger and more elaborate buildings, or the occasional market square with dozens of empty stalls. Very few people were out this evening, having all gone home, or to do what business they had.

In the centre of one such market platform stood a young viera, dressed all in red and carrying a long rapier in her right hand. The girl was using the rapier in a series of incredibly complicated and well-practised movements, warding off arrow after arrow as they came at her from nearly all directions. Around and around she twirled, moving swiftly across the area to avoid tripping up on the previous missiles embedded in the wood. Occasionally, when she got enough time between vollies, she would whip her rapier out in a violent movement, and a small blast of purple light would fly from it, releasing a piercing shreek like the cry of a hawk.

Jacqueline, the Scarlet Rapier, quite likely one of the greatest arena fencers and Red mages of all time, had to admit that she was quite completely screwed. She had left the others at the market early, because it was her turn to make dinner that night. While crossing the many platforms which lead to their home, she had quite simply been walking along when suddenly a flurry of arrows had flown in at her. All of the remaining people on the platform had quickly scattered, so Jacqueline summoned a judge and began fighting.

She was quite sure he knew who was responsible for all this. Most likely that damned clan Dip again. They could be so annoying. The prosperous clan which held dominion over the cities of Muscadet and Baguba always seemed to be attacking Jacqueline and her companions. She wasn't quite sure why, either, which only peeved her all the more.

Normally, when the five of them were together, or even when two of them were together, they could handle the clan's groups of mediocre archers and relatively capable warriors and mages. However, while alone, it was a bit more difficult. When the clan did manage to find one of them alone, they would normally just defeat them by sheer press of numbers, subdue their victim, and then the leader of the band, a vieran sniper named Meg, would lecture on about how they should join clan Dip, how they would live a life of prosper. When the annoying viera was finally finished and would finally ask if they would join, and the victim inevitably said no, the warriors would enjoy giving the victim a slight beating and then leave them for the judges to heal.

_Dammit, _she thought_, I guess that dinner won't be ready for them when they get back. Ah well, it's their own fault for not sending me an escort._

With that thought, the viera stopped moving for a moment, allowing an arrow to pass in front of her, before diving forward and sending a blast of ice from her hand toward the right. She was gratified by a cry of pain, and then she kept running. Now that five of their archers were down, by her count, she knew that they would be sending out their warriors in an attempt to finish her. Yeah, like she would give them that pleasure.

The red mage changed course suddenly, making a ninety degree turn to the left, straight towards the edge of the platform. Without a second thought, she leapt from the wood, clearing the five foot distance and landing easily in a tree's foliage.

Once there, she ducked her head down, and began running along the tree branches. Her steps were light enough that they didn't cause the leaves to move enough to be seen. Once she judged that she had gone far enough, the trained viera stopped, and crouched down, waiting. She controlled her breathing to get it back down to its normal level, and gazed expectfully out through the leaves.

"Hey, what's up?"

Jacqueline nearly jumped at the masculine voice, but controlled herself enough not to. Instead, she spun around and slapped the young man hanging upside-down from the tree next to her.

"Tryin' a give me an 'eart attack?" she demanded in a whisper.

"It was the intention," her boyfriend, and in many ways her opposite, whispered back, grinning. He was wearing his normal long blue robes, minus the giant plumed hat. Instead, his pony tail was dangling down beneath his head in a somewhat funny manner. He rubbed his cheek where she had slapped him, then asked, "So what are we looking at?"

"'Bout eight archers left, by my guess, and I don't know how many fighters. They 'aven't quite shown up yet."

"Right… rock paper scissors for the fighters!"

"Yer on!"

They played, and Jacqueline grinned up at him as she held her hand flat out in front of her. "Paper beats rock."

"Oh, poo…" he muttered.

"Don't look so down, yer better at stealth anyway."

"Alright, you start your mayhem on the warriors, and I'll take out the archers."

"Yep. Oh, by the by, where're the others?"

"When I left, Isaac and Max were laying some serious smack-down on the lackeys they sent after us, and Eileen was taking on about six other mages at once."

"Bloody 'ell," the Red mage muttered. "That nu mou's too strong fer 'er own good."

"Jealous?"

"Maybe," Jacqueline winked at him. "Have fun with the archers."

"Alright."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Isaac, behind you!" Max yelled, before sending a mouthful of dragonfire at the opponent before him.

The moogle turned at the bangaas words, holding his blade out in front of him. He was rewarded by the feeling of somebody running right into the point, impaling themselves. Not waiting for the cue, Isaac reached over and caught the judgepoint, then threw his blade towards the dragoon.

Maxwell, who was expecting the throw, held out his left hand and caught it, even while blocking a blow from a swordsmen with his spear. The moment the thing touched his palm, it burst into flames, raging with his spell blade magic. He took the left hand weapon, slipped it beneath the spear, and slashed through the human's stomach.

Turning, he watched as Isaac emptied about five shots in quick succession from his pistols, bouncing them off of his target's arms and shins. The bangaa warrior he was shooting at tripped over backwards, and fell from the edge of their platform to the forest floor far below.

The two ran to meet each other, and Maxwell returned the moogle's weapon. "Thank you, that was very well timed," he said conversationally, turning to face the trees in case of any other attack.

"You're welcome," the moogle replied, then he twitched his ears a bit. "There are a few over there, kupo," he pointed with one of his ears, and then pointed in another direction. "Few more there. Odd, they haven't sent any rangers after us yet."

"They probably have all of their ranged units working on Jacqueline's ambush," the bangaa muttered, still looking about him so that any watchers wouldn't know that they'd been found. All of a sudden, his eyes picked something out of the trees. "Speak of the devil…"

"Kupopo?"

"I think I saw a sniper moving through the trees up there. Headed back the way we came."

"Trying to take out the mage while she's all alone, are they, kupo?" Isaac shook his head. "Who's going after her?"

"You go. I feel like fighting a few more of their warriors for practise."

"Okay, I'll head off the sniper. Would you mind making a distraction for me, kupo?"

"Of course." The bangaa flicked his eyes to the left. "Over there, you said?"

"Yeah, behind the orange stall. Have fun, kupo."

The bangaa nodded, then bunched his powerful legs, and jumped. His jump went him flying upwards, through the canopy of trees up above. His form cut a hole in the soft roof of leaves, and instantly a brilliant shaft of pale orange late evening sunlight fell through. An instant later, a second hole appeared in the roof, and then down came Maxwell, his spear leading like a metallic piece of hail.

Isaac started running as soon as the bangaa landed at his target. There were a few shouts and screams, but Isaac ignored them, focusing instead on getting back towards where they'd left Eileen about four minutes ago. These days, when Eileen got going, it was smartest to get the hell out of her way. That mage was growing in power at an incredible rate. Apparently, no matter how much Isaac hated saying it, all those private tutoring lessons with Quin were paying off.

However, his current concern was getting near to her without being blown away by some powerful spell or another, and keeping enough awareness to see the sniper.

About thirty seconds of running and jumping from platform to platform later, he found a decent place. He was crouched behind another stall, where he got a good view of the light shows being made by the varying magics. Every now and again, he would hear a shout or a blast, and one of the frequent lights would stop appearing. Isaac shook his head as he stared. Of all the lights which kept flickering, the brightest and most frequent was, by far, the orange one, a telltale sign of Alchemy magic.

Isaac saw a slight flicker of movement in the trees on the sides of the platform, and spied the sniper for an instant, before she disappeared. He formulated a plan quickly, and began crawling forward. He stopped when he reached the very edge of his current platform, and waited there.

Suddenly, he saw the glint of steel which betrayed an arrowhead. Judging its path before the arrow even left the string, Isaac stood up and threw his blade forward. The arrow flew, and clanged into the blade's edge. Each one of them seemed to hang there unmoving for an instant, before plummeting downwards to the ground below.

Isaac, before the sniper could react, pulled out his Longbarrel, and without any effort at all, released a fireshot in the direction the arrow had come from.

The shot collided, and with a shreak, the sniper fell out of her tree.

Isaac grinned, and turned around. He quickly ducked as a human black mage flew by him, robes smouldering. Isaac, not trusting the spellcasters to keep their spells to themselves, stayed on all fours and crawled back to his hiding spot.

He waited there several minutes, before the flashes of light finally died down to a halt. He counted five breaths, and then very slowly he stood up.

"Eileen?" he asked cautiously, then leapt to the side as a ball of water flew at him.

"Isaac?" Eileen asked, walking over. Her right hand was up, and pointed in the direction which the water spell had flown. There were a few burn marks on her fur and robes, but otherwise, the alchemist seemed fine. "Oh, sorry about that."

"No problem, kupo," Isaac responded, being perfectly used to it by now. "I'm assuming you won?"

"Oh yeah," she nodded, grinning. She frowned, then, looking him up and down. "Where's your blade?"

"Oh, I sacrificed it to the deeps of the jungle in order to save you, kupo," Isaac said, with an overly-exaggerated bow.

"My hero," Eileen laughed. "So how are you going to get it back?"

"Good question, kupo."

The moogle walked over to the edge of the space deep below, and gazed down into it. He stared for a good while, and then his eyes traced through the paths of vines and branches, down to where he could see his blade. A relatively easy climb, compared to some of the paths he'd had to follow over the past eight months.

"Be right back."

With that, Isaac jumped off the edge of the platform, and caught hold of one of the creepers which hung down from the side. Carefully, the moogle made his way down from the platform, placing one foot before the other as he continued down towards his blade.

About ten minutes of this agonizingly slow progress later, the moogle reached the bottom. Sighing, he stretched his muscles, and twitched his wings a bit. He would rely on those to get him back up to the platform. Isaac glanced over to his blade, and stumbled slightly.

Uh, where _was_ his blade?

The scar was still cut into the ground from where his blade had landed. It had been embedded pretty deep, from the look of it.

"Hey, Isaac. Lost something?"

Isaac groaned, and turned around, muttering, "You know, I had really hoped that we could just leave this in the old world. But you can't manage that, can you?"

"Not really, shortstuff," Thomas muttered. He was standing in the lower branches of a tree across the clearing from Isaac. He wore his normal juggler's outfit, from the red and black cloak to the white makeup with red flecks on the cheeks. He had Isaac's blade in his hands, and was amusing himself by juggling it back and forth from side to side. "Bugging you is hard habit to break, kupo."

"Great," Isaac replied, rolling his eyes and wishing, not for the first time, that they'd never moved to Muscadet. "So are you going to just give it back, or be difficult, kupo?"

"Difficult, of course," the other moogle said, and Isaac noticed the subtle flick of his right wrist. He was getting a dagger ready.

"Great," Isaac repeated, then his paw flew to his holster. The predicted knife came, and he fired, managing to shoot the missile out of the air. Isaac pulled the trigger again, but as he had predicted, Thomas was already gone, climbing through the trees with impressive ease and grace.

"Hey," Eileen's voice called from up above. "What's taking so long?"

"Don't wait for me, kupo," Isaac called back, gritting his teeth. "Thomas is playing games again."

"Oh, fun," Eileen replied, her voice exasperated. "I'll send one of the others to come and help you when I find them."

"Thanks," Isaac said, and then he flapped his wings, jumping. He flapped hard for a few moments, then caught a small draft, which pulled him forward with it. Isaac continued flapping his small wings to get a bit higher, and then just glid, flying easily forward through the trees. Over the past eight months they'd spent in the City of Trees, Isaac had become quite the good flyer. He'd realised that he would be much faster while going out on errands, and much more useful while fighting, if he could fly, so he had worked on building up some wing strength. At current, he could fly probably three times farther than he originally could when he'd first been dropped off in Ivalice, and Isaac had to admit he was becoming a bit of an addict.

However, at current, he had to be a bit more serious than usual, so that he wouldn't lose sight of his elusive prey. Thomas could definitely climb like no other moogle. However, while wearing those long robes, the moogle's wings were stuck. In short: Thomas could hide, but not run.

_Dammit, _Isaac thought in annoyance_, he's so good at hiding, though._

The two of them were used to this, though. Thomas indeed did appear to have a habit of victimizing Isaac, in this world as well as the last. The juggler would regularly drop in on the friends' battles and missions to get in the way, or just single Isaac out while he was alone and steal something from him, which always led to a rather long and drawn out chase.

Isaac ducked under a branch, and flapped a bit harder, wanting to gain on the slippery juggler before he got into the denser bits of the forest.

A moment later, however, Isaac regretted his move, as the juggler spun around and threw a knife the gunner's way. Isaac had no time to react, so the knife managed to land directly where it was aimed. It caught the edge of his cloak, and jerked his body suddenly backwards. The knife pulled him until it smacked into a tree, and Isaac's momentum stopped. The gunner began dropping, but the knife held him dangling firmly in place.

"Wanker," Isaac muttered, watching Thomas. The juggler was taking his sweet time to climb through the creepers and branches towards the other moogle. Isaac tried once to wriggle the knife out from the tree, but it proved unsuccessful. In the end, he resigned himself to simply hanging there and waiting for his captor to come and help him out.

After several minutes of overly exaggerated jumps over branches and climbs up the vines, Thomas finally stood next to Isaac on a thick branch, grinning with his demonic little painted face. The gunner's blade lay comfortably in his paw, a prize from the short chase. The juggler said not a word, simply sitting there and basking in his victory. As the silence drew on, Isaac finally muttered, "So, uh, are you gonna cut me down, kupo, or just stand there grinning all day?"

"I had kind of hoped to do some sort of an evil monologue, kupo, about how helpless and weak you are and how I'm so much better than you, but…" he glanced at the sun, and tilted his head somewhat, "I don't appear to have the time. I guess I'll just give you a small beating and let you down. How's that sound, kupo?"

Isaac remained silent, glaring at the juggler.

"Pretty much what I thought you'd say, kupo," Thomas said, then drew back his hand.

He brought it forward, and slapped Isaac across the face with the flat of his own blade. Isaac flinched, but didn't make a sound. When the next slap came, Isaac felt blood fly out from his nose at the force. He coughed once, but didn't make any other noise.

"Oh, kupo, please make this a bit more fun for me," Thomas begged. "It's no fun at all when you don't yell."

"Sorry if I'm not the most cooperative torture victim, kupo."

"Well, kupo, if you really want to try the whole silent thing," the moogle shrugged, then drew back his hand again.

Just at that moment, what appeared to be a thunderbolt struck directly next to Thomas on the branch, snapping the wood in two and leaving the juggler on the falling end.

Thomas, however, being an incredibly good juggler simply let his trained eyes find anything available to grab on to as he fell, and then used his incredible arm and back strength to grab a vine a horizontal hanging vine. He waited until the thing began taunt, and then whipped out a knife to sever it. He held on tight, until the vine went as far down as it would, and began twisting back up and around the log it was attached to. Thomas managed to hold on, not letting go until the vine was at the maximum point of upward velocity, causing himself to be thrown back upwards. He guessed the arc of his flight, and sighted the perfect landing perch. He braced himself, and at the very top of his flight, reached out a hand to grab a slender branch. He swung around it, then landed with his legs slightly bent on another, thicker branch, some metres over to Isaac's left.

"Whoa, kupo," Isaac muttered. He'd never seen Thomas do something like _that _before. "Where'd you learn that?"

"I didn't just sleep through math class with all those parabolas, you know," Thomas muttered as his gaze flicked about, seeking his attacker.

A moment later, he was hit over the head with a large metal pole. The juggler yelped and fell off his branch, but managed once again through incredible feets of acrobatics to land on another perch. The moment he landed, the juggler spun around and threw a dagger at where he'd just been standing, but Maxwell, who stood there, simply deflected it by spinning his spear.

"Oh crap," Thomas muttered.

"Go, now," the bangaa ordered. "Leave the blade."

Without a word, Thomas dropped Isaac's blade and jumped off his perch, falling quickly out of sight.

Maxwell jumped, and landed on the remaining stump of a branch next to Isaac. He reached over, and pulled out the knife holding him in place, then caught Isaac before he fell.

"Thanks, kupo," Isaac muttered, finally standing. He rubbed his neck where the cloak had been attached, and coughed a bit.

"How is your face?"

"It hurts a bit, kupo," Isaac answered, holding a hand up to his nose to quell the bleeding.

"Really?" the bangaa grinned. "Because it is absolutely killing me."

Isaac sighed. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"More or less," the dragoon shrugged. "Are you alright, though?"

"Yeah. A bit battered, maybe, but I'm fine."

"Can you fly?"

"Yeah, kupo. He didn't hit my wings." Isaac shook himself slightly, and wiped the blood off of his face, glancing at it in his palm. "This scene is a bit too familiar."

"How do you mean?"

"Eileen and I walking into school, Thomas and co. attempting to mug us, you showing up to save the day, kupo, you know, that old tale."

"Perhaps it is a bit similar," Maxwell pondered. "Either way, we should be going. The others will send out another search party for us soon."

"Alright, you go on ahead, I'll catch up, kupo," Isaac told him, then watched as he leapt off through the trees. Isaac picked up his blade, and slowly twirled around his wrist. Then, suddenly, he whipped it around, shearing off the tip of a small branch. He whispered quietly to himself, "Frick."

Isaac sheathed the weapon, then jumped off the branch and began flying. He couldn't do anything on his own! He had hoped that he would at least be strong enough to take on Thomas on his own by now, but apparently his lifelong nemesis was still one step ahead of him. The only times that the others didn't have to save the moogle from his tormentor was when the two of them ran into the city's guard, and Thomas had to beat a hasty retreat. Otherwise, it always ended the same way: with one of the others helping him out of his situation.

Isaac flapped all the way back to the house which the five friends were renting, not allowing himself to glide. He really hated his weakness, sometimes. All of the others could probably take on an army apiece if they tried. Him? He'd have trouble with a couple lousy goons. He was just holding the others back.

He flew for about five minutes, then landed on a platform and walked the rest of the way. His breath was very heavy, dispite all of the training he did. Flight would always take a lot out of him, especially with all of the equipment and weapons he carried. One blade, three guns and a few bandoliers of ammo made for quite a load.

Along his way, he passed the platform on which Jacqueline had apparently been ambushed. Ben, Maxwell, Eileen and himself had all known as soon as the few warriors and mages clan Dip had sent after them had attacked that they were really going after Jacqueline. The members of Dip were definitely not strategists. The four would have had no idea about the ambush had the clan not set up the other attack group to hold them up. What, had they thought that not one of the four friends would be able to break through the line to go help their comrade?

When Isaac crossed the rope bridge which lead to the tree their home was burrowed into, the sun had already fallen. Isaac stopped for a moment in the middle of the bridge, and waited in silence. Slowly, all about the city, small white sparks burst into life, as the thousands of fireflys which called the city their home illuminated themselves. Soon, a dim white light had flooded the entire city, turning it into a paradise of soft silver. This was one of the main reasons that people came from all across the land to visit the remote city of Muscadet. By daylight, the city was beautiful, within league of the other four major cities. By night, however, it had no peer, being in a category all of its own.

Isaac sighed, allowing the simple beauty of the place to wash away his annoyances with himself. He loved Muscadet, if for only the reason that in Muscadet, he never had to suffer the darkness.

With that, Isaac continued walking towards their current home. It was wonderful, by all standards. Carved into the bark of a massive old tree, their home was more or less a large cottage, with more than enough room for all of them. It was three stories high, with Eileen and Maxwell's rooms on the first floor, Ben and Jacqueline on the second, and Isaac being the only one on the top floor. Things had actually worked out better than any of them had expected. All of them had learned quite a bit about living on their own in their travels, so they more or less shared the duties of cooking and cleaning their shared living spaces. Quin was staying a few trees over in a home which the Council of Sages owned in the city, so he came over and visited a few times a week.

Isaac had to admit that he was actually liking Quin more and more the more time he spent with him. He was very kind and considerate, and far more intelligent than his age would suggest. In some ways, he seemed like the perfect person. Skilled in magic and melee, great with people, lots of influence. He was useful enough to have around.

Glancing at the house, Isaac saw that only the light in the second floor was on, so he flapped his wings again and went up to the window, tapping on it.

A moment later, Ben showed up at the window and opened it, leaning out to look at the moogle. "Password, please."

"My shoulder muscles are going to rip apart soon, kupo, and I've got a blade which I'm willing to use."

"That works," Ben said, stepping back and giving Isaac the space to go through. "I would have preferred something like 'Open Sesame' or 'Trick or Treat', but that works."

Isaac flapped in through the window, and landed easily on the floor, shaking his fur out slightly. "So, kupo, what's on the menu?"

"Actually, we were just going t' the pub," Jacqueline told him. Isaac glanced around, and saw that all of them were either in their cloaks already or getting them on. "Sorry, but I didn' get quite enough time to make something what with getting attacked 'n' all."

"Alright by me," Eileen muttered, pulling the hood of her dark brown cloak over her head. "Your cooking is terrible."

"Not what you said last week when I made th' choco curry," Jacqueline replied, buttoning up her own cloak.

"I'm polite."

"Yer also lying. You 'ad thirds."

"Polite in the extreme, then." Eileen staggered slightly after saying this, then sighed. "I think that I'll stay here and rest for a few minutes. All the magic is wearing me out."

"Well," Maxwell piped up, looking to Isaac and Ben, "I volunteer Jacqueline to stay behind to help you out, seeing as you were getting on such good terms. How about you two?"

"Sounds good," Ben said quickly, heading for the stairs. "We'll meet the two of you there. Coming, Isaac?"

"See you outside," Isaac said, glancing over to Eileen. "Would you mind getting the window for me?"

"Take the stairs for once, why don't you?" she muttered, as he hopped back up onto the sill, then jumped into the night.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

"Three pints of ale, kupo," Isaac ordered. The other two were sitting over at their usual table in the corner, speaking. The five were regulars here at this pub, _The Burning Beech_, using it as their source for missions to do for money, and as a haunt where they could blow some of that money.

"Comin' right up," the beautiful viera said, disappearing behind the bar for a few moments. She returned with three frothy glass flagons, and nodded to him. "Anything else?"

"Yes, kupo," Isaac said, taking the drinks. "Any missions for us?"

"None for 'us', but there is one here for you, specifically," the viera told him, going to the back of the bar and grabbing an envelope. She came back and handed it to him.

"Er… thanks," Isaac muttered, taking the envelope between two free fingers, and then weaving through the tables back to his seat with Maxwell and Ben. There, he plonked down the flagons and sat, staring at the envelope.

"You really can not expect me to believe that you managed to fight all of the archers and all of the warriors on your own. Jacqueline must have taken down a few."

"Oh, no! The first archer took her down with an arrow. You know, surprise and all that. So I just came in and dealt with the rest, beast style. Pretty hard, I know, but I did it. Thanks," Ben said to Isaac, grabbing one of the flagons and taking a deep drink from it. He put the drink back down, and sighed, then looked over at the moogle. "What've you got there?"

"Oh, nothing. Just some message addressed to me," Isaac said, holding up the envelope. It was very plain paper, with his name written on it in neat writing with green ink.

"Are you going to open it, or simply stare at it all night?" Maxwell asked.

Shrugging, Isaac broke the plain red seal on the back of the envelope, and opened the letter up. It was one of those fancy letters which was folded into the shape of the envelope and then sealed. Isaac turned the paper around until the text was rightside up, and then read aloud. " 'I find myself in need of a mog knight of your abilities for a matter of some secrecy. If you wish to be part of one of the greatest feats in modern history, please come to Aisen Keep in the middle of Huntsmoon with your full adventuring and battle gear. Please note that this mission shall be extremely extended, so be prepared to be on the road for anywhere from one month to a year. Yours, the "Unnamed" mogknight.' Hmm… must be Lini…"

Isaac blinked once or twice, staring at the letter. Then, he quite simply put it down, and began sipping at his ale.

"Is that all your reaction?"

"Well, kupo, what do you expect?"

"Surprise or something. I dunno, be astounded that somebody was willing to invite you to do something like that!"

"Don't think I'm not honoured," Isaac defended, "but, I dunno, it seems a bit much, kupo…"

"Give me that letter," Maxwell ordered, snatching the piece of paper up from before Isaac. "… 'one of the greatest feats in modern history' is not something that I would pass by so easily."

"I've got better things to do with my time, kupo," Isaac objected.

"Like what?"

Isaac opened his mouth to speak, then shut it. Honestly, all he did have to do was get bothered by Thomas and follow the long process of working up the nerve to tell Eileen of his feelings. Not much, really.

"My point exactly," Maxwell said in response to his silence.

"Well, what are all of you going to do while I'm gone, kupo?"

"This letter comes at a convenient time," Maxwell replied, "as I was actually planning on finishing up some business which needs attending to. It could take me a good while to finish this work, as well…"

"Jacqueline and I've been talking about entering the Colour Tournament again this year," Ben offered. "That'll take at least a few months."

"And Eileen, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"What about me?" Eileen asked, sitting down heavily next to the moogle. Isaac jumped slightly, having not noticed the nu mou entering with Jacqueline.

"Read this," Maxwell instructed, passing Eileen the letter.

Eileen took it, and her eyes scanned down the length of the paper, slowly going over it. When she had finished, the gave the letter to Jacqueline, and said, "Impressive."

"We were all just talking about plans we've been making for trips over the next few months," Ben said. "Were you planning anything?"

"Actually…" Eileen said quietly, stroking her chin thoughtfully, "I have had an idea on my mind lately that I've been willing to try out. It could take more than a year to do, though…"

"See?" Maxwell said, looking over to Isaac. "You will not be abandoning us if you go."

"In fact, if ye don't go," Jacqueline said, finishing the letter, "_we'll_ be ditching _you_."

"Wow," Isaac muttered, rolling his eyes. "I had no idea my life was so much less interesting than all of yours."

"You're not passing this up, Isaac," Eileen said, looking over and down at him. "It sounds like the opportunity of a lifetime."

Isaac sighed, holding his hands up in defeat. "Okay, kupo, I'll go! But only because I don't want to be the depressing one who gets left behind."

"Alright!" Jacqueline crowed, grinning. She grabbed Ben's flagon of ale, and hoisted it into the air. "'Ere's to another round of crazy adventures!"

Isaac sighed, taking another sip. "We are honestly going to get ourselves killed, pretty soon."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Little did the moogle know how close he was to the truth. For, at that moment, there was an assassin perched upon the roof of the pub, looking at pictures of each one of them by torchlight. It was her job to kill them all, one by one…

Unfortunately, when she stood up, the assassin slipped, dropped her torch, and rolled off the roof. There, she fell five metres to the ground, followed shortly after by her torch. The torch caught on her tightly wrapped clothing, and she went up in flames, rolling around until she fell off the edge of the platform, down to her death many metres below. But that had no point, so back to something that does.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Three mornings later, Isaac got up earlier than usual. Normally, he would rise with the sun as it shone through his many large windows. This day, however, it was still dark when he rose. He picked himself out of his hammock bed, and made his way carefully across the floor littered with machine parts. By the stairs, he grabbed his pack and his equipment, then slung them on over his clothes. He had decided to sleep dressed that night, in order to get as early a start as possible.

As quietly as he could, he descended the spiral staircase, passing by Jacqueline and Ben's room, and going to the first floor. There, he stepped carefully into the hallway, and walked up to the door of their pantry. He cracked the door open a bit, then reached in to grab one of the small fruits he liked to eat. They were reminiscent of an apple, and called Kala nuts. He bit softly into it, and then walked over to the entrance to the house. He opened the door, and took a step out.

"I figured I'd see you off before you left."

Isaac turned slightly, and saw that Eileen was standing just outside the door to her room, dressed still in her night clothes. The alchemist held a lit candle in her left hand, which cast a wavering light over the two of them.

"I didn't think anybody would be up yet, kupo," Isaac said, closing the door again, and leaning his back against it.

"I'm always up at this time," Eileen said, "I just meditate until everyone else starts waking."

They were quiet for a short while after that, simply standing there awkwardly. Finally, Eileen broke the silence.

"I just wanted to tell you to be careful."

"Kupopo?"

"I can't know for sure what you're doing," Eileen explained, "but from the way Lini wrote, it seemed like some pretty big-time stuff. It's going to be dangerous, and I just… I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Alright, kupo," Isaac said. "You be careful, too. You haven't said anything about where you're going or what you're doing, which means it must be dangerous." Eileen simply nodded, so Isaac continued. "Don't get yourself killed, kupo."

"Alright, so neither of us is allowed to die, then?" the nu mou asked, grinning.

"Pretty much, kupo, and on that note, I'm leaving," Isaac said, opening the door again. "See you in a few months, kupo."

"Goodbye, Isaac," Eileen said, then watched as he walked out the door and shut it behind him. As soon as she heard the door click, she went back into her room, and went back to her desk. She placed her candle next to the decrepit and ancient tome she was reading, and carefully turned one of the old pages. Her eyes scanned the image, commiting it to memory, and then she wrote a few notes down on a piece of paper next to the tome.

The top of the paper read, _Concerning the Location of the World Threads._


	45. Swarm

"'Ello 'ere, small sir, what kin I do ye fer?"

"Er, some ale, please, and a room for the night, kupo," Isaac said, after pausing to decipher what had just been said to him. He figured he didn't need the food, having had a rather large lunch and breakfast on the road. The bartender left, and Isaac sat back, looking casually around at his surroundings.

He was in a small inn in the south of Ivalice, just on the edge of the Aisen Plains. It had taken him over a month of hard journeying to get here, and now he was going to treat himself to a night in an actual bed. The inn itself was plain, just a small building on the side of the road. Not terribly many people lived in Aisen, so it was understandable that the inn didn't get many customers. He was one of only about six people in the entire bar and restaurant portion of the inn. Most other inns he had been in before, particularly getting this late in the evening, were filled to the brim with patrons and noise.

Isaac sighed, and went over to sit at a smaller table in the corner. He took off his pack, his blade, and his guns, hanging all of them on his chair, and sat in contemplation. The moogle had made quite good time, having managed to join up with several caravans along his way, but now he was afraid that he would be running into problems. It was late summer, so the weather was fine on the plains. However, he had been hearing some rumours about some sort of trouble in Aisen.

The moogle leaned back in his chair, and thanked the bartender when his drink and the key to his room came. As he leaned over to take a sip, Isaac noticed that all of the eyes in the room were on him. As soon as they noticed he was looking up, everybody looked hurriedly away from him. Shaking his head, Isaac took his drink, and sat back, considering again. He had heard that there were few moogles in the Aisen area, and now he was seeing the proof. Apparently, all these people weren't used to moogles being about. He was a curiosity.

_This is probably how they'd greet me back home if I got sent back,_ the moogle thought,_ except to the enth degree._

The moogle glanced down at his furry form destractedly, remembering a time not terribly long ago when he had been surprised every time a "Kupo" had emerged from his mouth and his wings flapped. By now, though… it all seemed normal. He was a moogle. The idea of being human seemed somehow… foreign. Not quite as foreign as the thought of being a moogle would have been a few years previous, but still.

Isaac paused, and tried to call up an image of how he'd looked as a human. The messy brown hair, the hazlenut eyes, the skinny arms. Imagining that boy standing next to him now, all Isaac could think was: _I used to complain about being short?_

Shaking his head, Isaac downed the rest of his drink, then left a few gil on the table. He hopped off of the stool, then went over to the staircase which lead up to the rooms, bringing his gear with him. Isaac took the stairs slowly, still being quite tired from his journey. He would go to bed early, then leave early the next morning so that he would make good time. Isaac rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, and excused himself as he stepped around another moogle carrying a large rod in the crutch of his elbow who was just leaving his own room.

Isaac walked about three metres down the hallway, before he stopped and turned around, cocking his head over to the right, and asked, "Montblanc, kupo?"

The Black mage of renegade clan Nutsy turned around quickly to face him, a fistful of flames in his right hand. His eyes fell on Isaac, and he, too, cocked his head to the right, and let the flames die. "Isaac, kupo? What are _you_ doing here?"

"Mission request, kupo," Isaac explained walking up towards him. "You?"

"The same, kupo. I got here earlier today. Were you going to get something to eat? 'Cause I could do for the company, kupo."

"Sure," Isaac said, not wanting to turn down the company. A little extra food on the road never hurt anybody.

"Hey, we're not the only moogles here, you know?" Montblanc said as they headed towards the stairs

"What do you mean, kupo?" Isaac asked, confused.

"There's another moogle here. An animist named July."

"Oh," Isaac said, following the mage down the staircase. "That's odd. I thought that there weren't many moogles around here?"

"Not normally, kupo," Montblanc replied, leading Isaac to a table at the back. "Honestly, I think these people are all going to die of heart-attacks if another moogle comes in here."

"Tell me about it," Isaac laughed, sitting. "I thought the guy's eyes were going to fall out when I said I wanted a room."

The two sat in silence for a short time, each getting lost in their own thoughts. After a time, Montblanc ventured, "So, what have you and your friends been doing, lately?"

"Not terribly much, kupo," Isaac replied. "You know, just small-scale missions. We figured we needed a bit of down time after that last little battle…"

Montblanc laughed. "Yeah, good call, kupo. We've been doing the same old, same old."

"Have you found the next world thread, yet, kupo?" Isaac inquired.

"Not even close," the mage muttered. "We found the first two within a few months of each other, kupo. This one has taken us over a year of searching, and we still don't have any idea."

"Oh," Isaac said. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that, so he decided to keep his feelings to himself. "And what about Jocelyn and Pallanza, kupo?"

"Well," Montblanc said, leaning back, "Pallanza has become one of the top commanders in our guild, kupo. Caitlin, Lindsay and him are off looking into one of the leads on the world threads while I'm on this mission. And Jocelyn, well," he sighed, "not a trace."

"I'm sorry about that," Isaac said, bowing his head. "Has Pallanza said anything about it?"

"Nothing at all, kupo. It's a mystery to all of us."

"Right. So I guess it's a bit of a taboo subject, then?"

"Kind of. Marche and I talk about it a lot, but he has no clue either."

They fell quiet again after that. The bartender came, and they eached ordered a simple bowl of soup. They didn't speak for a short time after that, until Montblanc looked up and said, "And here's July."

Isaac turned, and saw a moogle walking slowly towards them. She was of average moogle height, about three feet, and slightly thinner than the average moogle. Her fur was a perfect shade of clean white which put even Foobar to shame. She was dressed somewhat simply, with a dark purple overcoat covering a green striped shirt and a light blue pair of pants. From her height, Isaac's first impression was that she was probably around his age or a bit older maybe. The way she carried herself, however, made her seem at least twice that. She didn't appear to have any weapons or travelling gear of any sort with her, unlike Isaac, who still hadn't dropped off his things, or Montblanc with his rod. In fact, she seemed incredibly average, by all respects.

"July, kupo!" Montblanc called, beckoning her over. The moogle nodded, and began making her way over to them. The Black mage turned back to Isaac, and whispered very quickly, "Just to warn you, she's a bit higher class than most."

"Kupopo?" Isaac asked.

"You'll see. July, kupokupo!" he said, nodding to her and pushing a seat out with his foot. "I'd like to introduce you to my friend Isaac."

"A pleasure," the moogle said, offering her paw.

Isaac took the paw, and was surprised by how dainty the fingers on it were. Thin, definitely thin, but strong as well. The gunner shook her paw, and said, "The pleasure's all mine, kupo."

"I'm sure," the animist said, and sat carefully down. The moment she sat down, Isaac became strikingly aware of his own bad posture, mainly because her own was… how one would say, flawless. Also, from up this close, Isaac could see her eyes, and was surprised by the fact that they were green. Green eyes were an extremely rare trait in moogles, even more rare than brown fur.

"What food have they here?" she asked, perfectly pronouncing and accentuating every syllable.

"The normal tavern fare, kupo," Isaac said, shrugging. "Stew, soup, bread. You know, once I was in a pub where they had toad soup."

"Seriously, kupo?" Montblanc asked, staring at him.

"Yeah, kupo, there's this pub in Cadoan where they serve it every four nights. It's pretty tasty, too, so long as you don't think about the fact you're eating toads."

"That sounds terribly delicious, kupo," July said, sniffing, "however, I believe that I will simply have bread."

"Are you sure, kupo?" Montblanc asked. "The soup smells pretty good."

"I could tell," she said, wrinkling her nose slightly. "No, though, kupo, I'll stick with bread."

Isaac glanced over at Montblanc, who shrugged. Isaac decided to ignore it, and then pulled out one of his pistols, reaching for his pack.

"What are you doing, kupo?" July asked, surprised.

"Well, I haven't serviced my guns for a while, kupo. It'll get rusty and start jamming if I don't do it soon," Isaac explained. He already had the greasy rag which he used for cleaning out.

"Er, would you mind not doing that at the table?" the other moogle asked, cocking one of her eyelids slightly.

"Uh," Isaac said, glancing over to Montblanc with an eyebrow raised. The other moogle simply shrugged again, so Isaac replied, "Of course not, kupo. The food's here anyways."

With that, Isaac slid his gun back into its holster, and took his meal from the bartender. Montblanc also grabbed his meal, looking very glad to have escaped the awkward situation so easily. July ordered her meal, and they settled into the easy silence of a meal. The soup itself was, admittedly, not terribly good, but fine enough for a pair of tired moogles.

As Isaac sipped the last of his soup from the bottom of his bowl, Montblanc thought quickly of a conversation topic, and asked, "So, Isaac, what're the details of your mission?"

"Oh," Isaac said, putting the bowl down. "It's actually a request from Lini, I think. You know, the mogknight we worked with last time, kupo… Uh, why're you staring at me?"

" 'One of the greatest discoveries of our time'?" Montblanc quoted.

Isaac grinned. "It's a pleasure to be working with you again, mister Montblanc."

"You will also have me to accompany you on this little trip, kupo," July said, smiling faintly.

"That's great!" Montblanc said quickly. "Having an animist on the team always adds to the interest, kupo."

"Wait," Isaac said, cocking his head to one side. The other two looked at him, and Isaac said quietly, "A gunner, an animist, a Black mage, and a mogknight, kupo. Am I picking up on a pattern?"

"Four moogles," July said, nodding thoughtfully. "More than the average on any team."

"You think she's making an all-moogle team?" Montblanc asked.

"Who knows, kupo?" Isaac replied. "We know absolutely nothing about her. She might be a moogle supremist or something."

"Either way," July said, standing slowly up and wiping the corners of her mouth with a pocket handkerchief, "I believe that I will go to sleep now. Are the two of you also leaving tomorrow morning, kupo?"

"Yes," they said at the same time.

"In that case, it would be most advantageous to go together, kupo, for our own protection. Shall we meet at dawn, then?"

"Sounds good, kupo," Isaac answered, and Montblanc also nodded.

"Dawn it is. I bid you both good night." With that, she turned around, and headed back up the stairs.

The two remained quiet until the animist had gone up the stairs, and then looked over at each other.

"Wow, kupo," Isaac muttered, "I know what you meant, now."

"Yeah, tell me about it. I'm glad that you showed up, kupo," the mage shuddered. "I wouldn't have survived the entire journey to Aisen Keep with only her for company."

"Speaking of surviving, kupo," Isaac said, looking up suddenly, "I've been hearing rumours on the road, kupo. Apparently something's going on in Aisen?"

"Oh, right, kupo," he rolled his eyes. "The annual antlion migration."

"Kupopo!?"

"Yeah, kupo, this is the time every year when the antlions do their migration across Aisen from the north to the south. It's pretty dangerous to be on the open plains during it."

"Great, kupo," Isaac said, exasperated. "And with that pleasant little tidbit to munch on, I'm going to bed."

"If I were you, I'd service that gun, kupo," Montblanc councelled as Isaac got up to leave. "You'll need it tomorrow."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

The next day was another hot and dry one, the ones which made up the long dog days of summer. The three moogles met at dawn, as they had planned, then left, with the rising sun in their eyes. Soon, the sun was up and pounding down upon them as the three of them tramped along the plain, dusty road.

Isaac, who was walking slightly ahead of the other two with his Longbarrel out at all times, glanced casually back to look at his two companions. Montblanc, as he'd expected, wasn't wearing his black battle cloak. Instead, he had opted for the usual blue robed attire of a black mage, with a wide brimmed, pointed mage hat. He kept the brim of the hat down in order to block the sunlight from getting in his eyes, so Isaac couldn't see much of the moogle's expression.

July was wearing the same outfit she'd worn the day before. However, it looked as though the clothes had all been washed, dryed and pressed (and he wouldn't be surprised if they _had_ been, with that moogle). Overall, she looked exactly the same as the day before, except for the pack she had on her back, and the instruments she had with her.

Yes, instruments. Three in total. On her back, she had a small black violin with the bow hanging on the strap with it. Around her neck and tucked under her right arm was a strap with a simple horn, which looked as though it had been made from a ram's horn or some other sort of beast. Finally, in a strange sheath on her leg which reminded Isaac a bit of the holsters he used for his guns, she kept on her leg a long, silver flute. The thing was polished to perfection, and masterfully crafted in every curve and key. The instrument was more a piece of art than an actual object for playing music.

What she could do with one of those, Isaac had no idea. He'd never battled an animist before, so he had never seen one in action. He had heard some rumours, but for the most part, they just seemed to be terribly weak nuisances who got in the way, in many cases. Music could be a powerful tool, Isaac knew, but against a broadsword? He preferred having a blade.

Turning away from his companions, Isaac looked out at the endless hills and hills of grass all around him. He wished that there was just a bit of wind, if not to cool him down, then to give him a bit of a view of all the waves of grass. This, this was just incredibly boring. He really had a problem with the bloody plains. Whenever he had to head over them, he started getting sleepy. They were just boring beyond compare. Especially seeing as they were going to be on these bloody plains for two days before they finally reached Aisen Keep.

Now _that _would be interesting. Isaac had, of course, heard of Aisen Keep. It was the ancient meeting place of the Aisen Thirteen, the group of the thirteen greatest warriors, rangers, and spell casters in all the lands hundreds of years ago. Lini the Mogknight, successor of the Hero Gaol to the twin blades Avuir Red and Avuir Blue was their leader, as he had founded the group.

Of course, the members of the Aisen Thirteen had not all been good people. Many of the members were the most sinister villains of the time as well. However, the most important part was that they had been the most powerful. For the Thirteen were not organized to fight evil or good, per say.

No, in the times of the Aisen Thirteen, because there were no judges or the monarchy to protect the people, often great events of a cataclysmic nature would come to pass. Thus, the Thirteen were there to deal with anything which threatened all sides, not just good or not just evil.

The Keep was, therefore, not reported to be a terribly grand building. It was quite simply a single, round room made of stone, with the stone table inside which the Thirteen would sit at while making decisions. There was nothing special about it, seeing as the thirteen never brought any weapons or personal effects with them to these meetings.

Still, it was a true piece of history. A true piece of this world from hundreds of years earlier…

_But,_ Isaac thought suddenly, frowning, _this world has only been in exhistence for a few years. How can it have a history that goes back that far?_

It was just another question on those piles and piles of questions which kept showing up about this strange world. Isaac was truly beginning to get annoyed by how mysterious it was. All of these cities and races had such incredibly complicated and intricate cultures. Just figuring out all of the history of the moogle race was incredibly difficult. There were four other races who each had their own histories which were much longer than that of the moogles, and also all of the historic events not concerning simply one race. It was mind-boggling, at times.

Of course, Eileen was the one to ask on all of those sorts of historic questions. During their eight month stay in Muscadet, the nu mou had been devouring every historic book she could get her hands on, particularly dealing with ancient historical events. More myths and legends, than anything else. What was she doing, out there right now?

Isaac didn't have any idea, and he truly doubted about whether he would ever find out. If he ever did, it wouldn't be any time soon, at the least. He was promised to this little group for the next few months, at least.

Isaac, casting his eyes slowly over the landscape before him, stopped suddenly, and called back, "Hey, kupo, do you two see that up there?"

"What, kupo?" Montblanc asked, walking up behind him.

"No, I see it also," July said, her green eyes squinting to see.

"What is it?" the mage asked.

"I can't tell, kupo. Looks red, though…"

"Antlions," July clarified. "I'm sure of it."

"Great," Montblanc muttered. "How many, kupo?"

"Uh, only a few…" Isaac started, then stopped, his eyes slowly widening. "Oh no. More than a few."

"How many, kupo!?"

"I'd say quite a sizeable swarm," the gunner muttered, reaching down to draw his blade.

"Where are they heading?" Montblanc, looking over to July.

"This way, kupo," she replied, holding her chin in her hand and stroking it.

Montblanc said something under his breath, then shifted his grip on his staff to two hands. He looked over to Isaac, his eyes questioning. "How many do you think you can take with your blade, kupo?"

"Two or three, at best," he muttered. "But if you can prepare some bigger magics, my guns can slow most of them down for a while. Can you think of anything?"

"Nothing on that scale."

"I do have something I could do…" July murmured, considering. "However, it would take a good while to have any effect, and also, as soon as I did it, it would draw all of them directly to us. If the two of you could hold them off long enough, it might work."

"It's our only option, kupo," Montblanc muttered. He could see the antlions too, now, and there were a _lot _of them. "Do it."

July nodded, then reached for the horn tucked under her armpit. She looked to the other two in order to be sure that they were ready, then put the horn to her lips, and blew.

For the first few moments of her blowing, neither of the other moogles heard a thing. They were just about to begin coming up with another plan, when all of a sudden, sound blasted out from the horn, sending out an incredibly loud and low pitched call. The volume astounded both of them, and they each had to clamp their hands over their large ears in order to prevent them from going deaf. The call was not impressive simply in volume, but also in length. It seemed to go on and on and on, lasting far longer than that one small moogle's lungs should have allowed.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the call ended, and July pulled her lips away from the horn, breathing deep.

"So, uh…" Montblanc muttered, awkwardly, "what now?"

"Now," July gasped, "you two hold up your half of the deal." She pointed back down the road, and they looked.

What they found were several dozen antlions thundering along towards them, being drawn by the sound of the call.

"Bloody hell, kupo!" Isaac yelled, sheathing his blade and his Longbarrel, and going instead for his two pistols. "We have to fight _that, _kupo?"

"You knew what you were getting yourself into before this," July pointed out, still panting.

"There's a bit of a difference going from thinking about it to having a swarm of giant spiders charging at you, kupo!"

"Well get shooting, then, kupo!"

Isaac growled. He didn't like this animist. Not at all. He looked over at Montblanc, and was glad to see that the moogle had drawn a judgepoint and already summoned a judge. Nodding to the mage, Isaac pointed his guns.

Focusing all of the paralysis one would feel when faced by a swarm of giant spiders charing at you (, kupo), Isaac began pulling the triggers on his guns, moving them to point from one antlion to the next without stopping for his first twelve shots. Then, he stopped, released the handles of his guns so that they hung down on his trigger finger, and hit the catches for the ammunition docks. They opened, and Isaac's hands flew to his bandolier bearing the smaller bullets. His fingers quickly picked and placed six bullets in each one, and then pushed the docks back in. Taking a deep breath, Isaac resettled his aim, pulling the triggers again and again.

Thus, very quickly, the first wave of antlions was quickly stopped in their tracks. However, the second wave quickly came in to replace them, surging forward just as quickly. Growling again, Isaac reloaded his guns once more, and started shooting again, antlion after antlion suddenly stopping all movement for a short time. When Isaac was finished, the second line of antlions had moved no more than about five metres in front of the first line.

Then, one at a time, the antlions in the first line began moving again, making steady progression forward. Isaac started pumping his triggers again, asking July, "How long will that spell take to come into effect, kupo?"

"I have no idea," the moogle replied. "Anywhere from a few seconds to a few hours."

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded, stopping his shooting for a moment.

"Normally, kupo, it takes no longer than five minutes, however," July conceeded.

"Bugger all," the gunner muttered, going back to shooting.

"What?"

"At this rate, kupo, I'll be out of bullets in one minute. Then, I'll have to switch over to my Longbarrel, and I'll be shooting at one twelfth the rate. Once that happens, they start making some real movement."

"How long can the two of you hold them off?" she asked, looking to Montblanc.

"I'd be able to hold them back for a little time, kupo," Montblanc calculated in his head. "Maybe half a minute."

"Like I said, my blade's good for maybe three of them," Isaac muttered. "Have you got any other tricks, kupo?"

"The call used up most of my energy, kupo," July said, her chest still panting. "It will be a short time before I can use another spell."

"Crap…" Isaac muttered. "So it's all about luck, now?"

"So it would seem, kupo…"

Isaac refilled his guns once again, and was dismayed to find that he didn't have enough bullets to completely fill the docks.

"Well, Montblanc, kupo," Isaac said, pulling the triggers nine last times, "it's up to you, now."

"Then stand back," the mage said, stepping forward. As Isaac retreated behind him, Montblanc took up his rod in both hands, and took a deep breath. Then, pointing the staff forward, he said softly, "_Langsam_."

As soon as the word left his lips, one clump of the antlions slowed in their movements. Montblanc pointed several more times, each time whispering, "_Langsam_," and the groups would slow their movements. Finally, he had most of the antlions moving at the snail-like pace. However, their were still a few groups coming relentlessly forward.

"Nice move, kupo," Isaac complimented.

"I'm just getting started," Montblanc replied, glancing back at the two of them and winking.

With that, the moogle took up his rod, and twirled it around his fingers and wrist, flipping it around and around. Finally, he let it come to rest laying tucked comfortably beneath his right arm, the gem studded tip poking out just beyond his wrist. He then turned, and faced the antlions, who were much closer now. Pointing with the rod and holding his free left hand open before him, Montblanc whispered, "_Eisaga_."

Instantly, three gigantic spires of ice shot out of the ground, right in the middle of a large clump of the antlions. They ripped through many of the great beasts, decimating the ranks. Montblanc then tipped the back of his rod around, releasing it so that it flipped around several times in the air. He caught the long instrument with his left hand, pointed, and said, "_Blitz!_"

A finger of lightning shot out of the rod's tip, and Montblanc appeared able to manipulate its direction and bendings by just flexing the fingers of his right hand in different ways. The line of destruction quickly switched from target to target, blowing away antlion after antlion. Finally, after about ten seconds of this, the lightning stopped, and Montblanc gasped, sagging slightly.

"That took more out of me than I'd expected, kupo," the mage gasped.

"It was bloody impressive!" Isaac said, astounded. "I had no idea you could do that!"

"Yeah, I've been learning staff fighting from Robert over the last little while, kupo," the mage muttered. "It helps with the spell control, and…"

What he was about to say, however, was blocked out as an antlion which the moogle had missed reared up behind him suddenly, letting out a clicking battle cry. Isaac was about to run forward with his blade, when Montblanc simply turned, placed his flat palm on the antlion's exposed belly, and said, ever so calmly, "_Blitzra_." A bright light flared up, and electricity coursed all along the spider's form for one instant. Then, the force of the magical attack threw the monster flying backwards, dozens of metres before it came to a rest. It was totally fried.

Montblanc sagged slightly, gasping in deep gulps of air. Isaac ran up to him, asking, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, kupo," the mage muttered, standing up straight again and pulling his hat down over his eyes. "It just takes more out of me to use all that power."

"Can you continue doing battle?" July asked, stepping over. "Unfortunately, kupo, there are still a few dozen antlions coming towards us."

Isaac looked up, and swore. She was right. All of the slow spells Montblanc had used were wearing off now, and the creatures seemed more peeved than ever.

"I'm all done, for now," Montblanc whispered, coughing and suddenly crouching over again. Isaac grabbed his shoulders to steady him, and stared as Montblanc withdrew his hand from his mouth, blood staining the fur.

"We should take shelter behind the ice, kupo," July suggested, and Isaac nodded to her. He lead Montblanc over to the ice spikes he'd created, and got him to sit down in one of the nooks which made a minor cavern. Then, the gunner drew his blade, and waited.

"Do you know whether your call has worked yet, kupo?" he asked impatiently.

"Actually…" the other moogle said, looking out over the hills, "I can see them coming now, kupo…"

Isaac glanced out where she was looking, and was shocked to see a large cloud of dust far in the distance. The gunner stared, muttering, "What the hell, kupo…"

"And that is exactly where we'll be in a few moments if you don't begin swinging your blade, kupo," July said pointedly, snapping him from his reverie.

"Oh, right, kupo," Isaac said, turning around and seeing that the antlions may as well have been on top of them. He twirled his blade around his wrist, then stepped forward, yelling, "You cover Montblanc!"

With that, the first antlion stepped around the corner of the ice, and into range. Isaac ran up to meet it, slashing forward with his blade. The thing caught his blade in its pincers, then tried pulling it in closer with Isaac's arm. The moogle, thinking quickly, reached down with his free hand to draw his Longbarrel, which he pointed at one of the spider's many eyes. He fed the gun his fire, and pulled the trigger. A flaming bullet landed directly in the thing's eye, and it squealed, releasing the blade. Isaac pulled it back, then stepped around the writhing antlion's head, and delivered a finishing blow just at the base of the neck.

Isaac stepped quickly back, so that he was just in front of July and Montblanc. Some of the antlions appeared to be holding back, having seen the brutal killing of their fellow. Isaac reached out and caught a judge point, quickly shoving it into his sash, then he placed both hands on his blade and held it ready.

A moment later, the antlions began advancing again, their pincers clacking menacingly at the three moogles. Isaac whispered, "Get back, kupo," and started backing up himself towards the ice.

"Why are you not using mog lance, kupo?" the animist behind him hissed. "Take a few out before they charge at us?"

"Because I don't know how, kupo?"

"And you call yourself a mogknight?" she demanded.

"Are _you_ the one facing down a few dozen antlions for the sake of an annoying moogle you just met who keeps insulting you?"

"Er, no…"

"Then kindly shut up, kupo," Isaac growled, then swung his blade, knocking a set of pincers away from himself.

The next several moments were incredibly tense for the young moogle. Every now and again, one of the few close antlions would snap forward, and Isaac would have no choice other than to simply swing wildly at it until it would back up a few steps. It was a waiting game, Isaac knew. At any time, they could all just charge them at once and simply crush them up against the ice, and it would be finished.

"Montblanc," July suddenly whispered from behind Isaac. "Can you dispell this ice, kupo?"

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded, beating another antlion back. "This ice is the only thing keeping us alive, kupo!"

"Yes, but my spell will be completely uneffective if it does not have enough room."

"And when will your spell finally kick in, kupo?"

"Probably within ten seconds, kupo."

"Alright," Montblanc muttered, forcing himself to stand. He turned slowly to face the giant wall of ice he had created behind them, then placed both hands against it. He took a very deep breath, and called out, "_Feueraga_!"

Flames leapt from his hands in giant torrents, quickly shattering the ice with their sheer force. Isaac cried out and covered his face with his arms as giant shards of ice flew past, leaving dozens of tiny cuts on his body. He didn't think that he would have to worry about the antlions at the current moment, because if they tried to move they would probably get speared with ice.

When all of the ice had finally stopped flying by their heads, the three moogles looked up, and were slightly disconcerted to find themselves surrounded by a small sea of antlions. Slowly, the three took up back to back positions, each one facing out at the insects. Isaac swore slightly, muttering, "Where's your freaking spell, kupo!?"

"It should show up any second, kupo," the animist whispered back. "Just stick very close to me."

And, even as she finished saying those words, the three moogles each felt something. It was a soft rumbling, just the slightest little tremor in the ground. However, as soon as she felt it, July said, "Told you so…"

The antlions had also felt it, and were all looking about in confusion. They had no idea where or what it was coming from, and thus they had no idea what hit them.

From one end of the mass of antlions, something came ploughing through. It looked at first to be naught but a massive cloud of dust, but a moment later, the true source became incredibly apparent.

"WARBLE!"

"Waitaminute, kupo," Isaac yelped, "those are _chocobos_?"

"Yes, kupo," July said smugly, "a _lot _of chocobos."

The giant birds ploughed through the swarm of antlions, cutting a swathe in the mass. The antlions didn't stand a chance, all getting crushed beneath the large feet of the wild birds. Isaac and Montblanc each drew closer to July, suddenly heeding her words of earlier. The chocobos were approaching at an incredible rate, and the two of them weren't sure that the birds would discriminate.

"Take hold of my jacket, kupo," July ordered, tensing her legs.

Isaac and Montblanc both grabbed on to her jacket, making sure they each had a good grip. Just to be sure, Isaac reached over and wrapped his free hand around Montblanc's slumped shoulders. The mage looked over to him, his hat still down over his eyes, and said, "I think I'm fine now, kupo."

"Sure you are, kupo," Isaac shrugged, "but being trampled by chocobos won't help your condition."

Montblanc considered this, then nodded his consent.

Suddenly, the chocobos reached them, and quickly flooded around them, making a small gap for the three moogles. Isaac and Montblanc were surprised, but July seemed completely unphased by the entire event. She slowly tensed her legs, and waited.

Suddenly, a piercing warbling cry was set up by one of the chocobos coming towards them. Grinning, July reached out a hand, and casually grabbed onto a fistful of the bird's feathers. With what seemed like easy proficiency, the animist quickly swung herself, and the other two moogles holding on to her, up onto the chocobo's back. Isaac saw Montblanc's paws loose their grip, and tightened his grip, holding onto the mage's back. Even as this was happening, he felt his fedora beginning to lift off his head with their sudden movement. He tried to keep it on by moving his head, but it flew off and by his body. Cursing, he simply held on to the animist, and lowered his head.

As soon as its passengers were safely up, the chocobo released another warble, and continued its mad dash forward away from the fight.

Isaac was terrified by all of this, being completely unprepared for a number of reasons. Of course, there was the sheer apparent randomness of what had just happened, but also the fact that he had never actually ridden a chocobo before. He simply huddled down close to the chocobo, and hoped that he wouldn't get thrown off or trampled.

"How long are we going to be up here, kupo?" Isaac yelled above the loud noises of the stampede.

"We may as well stay with the herd, kupo," July said, glancing over her shoulder to look at him. "They are heading in the same direction we are, and we can travel much faster, and with much more protection."

"Why didn't you summon these guys from the beginning, kupo?" the gunner demanded.

"I do not like taking advantage of other creatures unless forced to, kupo," she replied simply.

Isaac thought of a few sharp replies, but bit them back, instead asking, "So how long until we reach the Keep, then, kupo?"

"At most six hours," July answered, leaning back comfortably on the chocobo's back. "I would suggest that you get comfortable."

Next to Isaac, Montblanc suddenly sat up straight, gasping. Isaac turned to him, and was relieved to see him taking off his hat and shaking out his headfur.

"Oh, thank Famfrit that that engagement is done," he muttered. "I love the healing. Oh, yeah, kupo, here's your hat." Montblanc handed him the fedora, apparently having caught it as it was flying by him.

"Are you sure you're alright, kupo?" Isaac asked, securing his hat.

"Of course I am," Montblanc replied defensively, "it's just a bit of spell-sickness, kupo."

Isaac struggled to remember the last time that Eileen had had such a violent reaction to magic use, but couldn't. Normally, she would just pass out from exhaustion.

Shrugging it off, the gunner sighed, and tried to make himself comfortable, as July had suggested. It was difficult on the bony back, especially with all of the muscles flexing and moving about beneath him. Groaning, the moogle simply resigned himself to sitting up straight and watching the landscape fly by. It was a faster means of transportation, he had to give the animist that. At least he wouldn't have to spend two full days of nothing but grass and hills.

"Well," Montblanc said quietly, "hasn't this been a fun first day together, kupo?"


	46. A Company of Moogles

The great herd of chocobos ran the next several hours without stopping, just pounding along down the worn path. Fortunately, most of the residents of the Aisen Plains had heard about the antlion problem, so they weren't venturing out on this day.

Slowly, before the three moogles, the Aisen Keep came into view before them. It was situated at the top of a very tall hill, and seeing as it was the only object on said hill, it was incredibly difficult to miss. It appeared to be a simple, low-roofed, round stone building, with many windows in the sides. All three could feel each others' excitement slowly building as they got closer and closer to the ancient site, knowing that whatever quest Lini had planned for them awaited.

As the herd finally drew level with the small building, July expertly manoeuvred their chocobo off away from the rest of the group, and brought it to a halt just outside the main door. There, the three jumped off, and July patted the great bird in thanks. Then, it reared up and let out one last warble, and ran off, eagre to catch up to its fellows.

The three turned to face the heavy wooden door set into the stone before them. They stared at it for a good while, none of them wanting to be the first to move. About a good minute passed, before Montblanc finally broke the silence, murmuring, "I guess that we should open it, kupo?"

"Yeah, kupo," Isaac muttered. He took a slow step forward, and placed a paw on the handle. Glancing over his shoulder, he asked, "Are you two ready?"

"It is a bit late for us to have second thoughts, kupo," July pointed out.

Nodding, Isaac took a deep breath, and pulled open the door.

They each tensed as it slowly swung outwards, but when nothing jumped out at them, they all cautiously stepped forward into the slightly dark room.

It was plain, just like all the rumours said. There was the large, round stone table in the middle of the room, covered in a heavy layer of dust. Light drifted into the building through all of the glassless windows, illuminating it decently well. Still, despite the sunlight, there was a slight chill in the air. They all slowly took another step into the building, and another, until they were properly inside, looking down at the table.

"This Keep was the centre of all the power of the ancient world, kupo," a voice said behind them. Even though Isaac and Montblanc recognised it at once, they all jumped and spun around, hands going to their weapons. There stood Lini, leaning up against the same wall the door was attached to. Her hands were in the pockets of her plain brown pants, and she looked very relaxed there. She was covered partially in shadow, as she was leaning between two of the windows. She continued, undaunted, "It was lead by one moogle. During that time, kupo, moogles were equally respected in power and authority amongst the peoples of this world. We were a people whose voices were unified, kupo, and heard."

She paused, still not quite looking at any of them, but just staring directly in front of her. At last, she went on, "Today, the moogles are divided and unorganized. We are not to be feared or respected anymore; no, instead we are laughed at, and considered weak underdogs. Sidekicks to the true heroes, kupo. Yes, we do have our uses, but a moogle alone could never accomplish anything great." Once again, she paused, and this time, she looked at them, each one in the eye, going from July, to Montblanc, and finally to rest on Isaac. They all shuddered at her look. Her eyes still dwindling on the gunner, Lini declared, "The moogle who ran this council was named Lini the Mogknight, kupo; my most ancient ancestor, whose name I have earned through lineage and deed. And I intend to lead our people back to their former glory the same way he led his group to be the strongest band of all time. And, to accomplish this, kupo, I have chosen each of you to help me. The only question would be: will you help me, kupo?"

There was perfect silence after that for a very short while. All three of the newly arrived moogles were made somewhat uncomfortable by the other's words, and none were quite sure how to respond.

"Of course," Lini said, suddenly standing up straight, "I'm not asking all of you to decide without knowing what you're getting yourselves into, kupo. I've got an actual plan on how we shall gain renown for the moogles, a concrete plan, and I will outline it as soon as our other two members show up."

"Let me guess, kupo," Montblanc said dryly. "Moogles?"

"How could you tell, kupo?" Lini asked, feigning a shocked look.

"The speech there gave you away a bit, kupo," Montblanc shrugged, then there was silence. All four of the moogles struggled to find something to say, but none of them managed.

Eventually, Isaac muttered, "Uh, well. This is awkward, kupo."

"Quite, kupo," Lini replied, cocking her head to one side. "Though I do believe that I can hear the others arriving, kupo."

"Huh?" all three of the others asked, cocking their ears. After a moment, Isaac said quietly, "Yes… there's something there kupo. Can't quite make it out, though."

"It's them, kupo," Lini assured them confidently, and then walked out the door. Looking at each other for a moment, the other three followed.

They walked a few metres away from the Keep, and then looked down the tall hill they were perched on. Slowly, something began coming in to view. It looked like two moogles, from their size, but they were travelling quite slowly and erratically.

"Whoa, kupo," Montblanc muttered, "it looks like they were having some troubles with antlions, too."

"And still are, kupo," July pointed out, and indeed, as soon as she finished saying it, several of the creatures showed up behind them.

The two moogles looked behind them, and saw their impending danger. Instantly, one took up a position in front of the other, and they started backing up, waiting for the creatures to make the first move.

Isaac began reaching for his Longbarrel, but Lini's paw stopped him. He glanced over to her, and she said, "Let's see what they can do, kupo."

The first antlion approached the two of them, and they sprung into motion. The moogle who was in front leapt forward, and appeared to simply punch the creature in the face. However, the blow sent the antlion realing, with black blood flying from several wounds. The moogle delivered another one-two combo of punches, then a powerful uppercut, completely decimating the antlion. It slumped down dead at his feet, and he started backing up again.

However, another antlion had approached from behind while the first moogle had been busy, and now it reared up to crush him. The moogle appeared shocked, and was about to counter-attack, when a knife flew by him and ripped into the antlion's belly. It roared, and the first knife was quickly followed by three more, each one pounding in deep. Finally, the antlion fell back onto its hard shell, and didn't move again.

"Oh, _no_, kupo," Isaac whined as something dawned on him.

"Kupopo?" Montblanc asked, glancing over at him.

"I know that moogle," he replied simply, thinking to himself, _Shit_.

The two moogles continued backing up as quickly as they could. Whenever one of the antlions would begin drawing closer, the second moogle would spin around and whip a few knives, either killing it or scaring it back. When they were halfway up the hill, one of the antlions pulled out ahead of them, and reared up in front. The first moogle took two heavy strides, then jumped, driving both fists into the creature's underbelly. It screamed in agony, and thrashed until the moogle had to jump back. The antlion collapsed, cutting off their direct path upwards.

The two each started going around the corpse in different directions, but found an antlion blocking them. They backed up quickly, and met back to back, staring around them.

They were surrounded.

"This looks a bit familiar, kupo," Montblanc muttered.

"Did the three of you have any antlion problems?"

"Just a few, kupo," July replied, rolling her eyes.

"Uh, are we going to help them, kupo?" Isaac asked, his hand reaching once more for his gun.

"No, kupo."

"Kupopo?"

"They've still got a few tricks up their sleeves, kupo," Lini explained, and nodded towards the two moogles.

They were very slowly turning, keeping their backs to each other. As they watched, the first moogle reached slowly down into his pocket, and then withdrew his paw with something clenched in it. Apparently pausing to concentrate, he crouched down, and held the clenched paw in front of him. A red light slowly began gathering in that paw, growing stronger and stronger. The antlions closest to the moogle began backing up uneasily at this display, not sure what it meant.

Suddenly, the moogle opened his paw, and, in a somewhat anticlimactic moment, flipped a coin into the air.

The thing spun around several time, before coming to a sudden stop in middair, simply hanging there. From where they were standing, the moogles couldn't see what was on the top side, but apparently it was good, because the moogle cried out in victory.

Suddenly, the red light from the moogle's coin shot off in several distinct rays, and slammed into the two moogles. It continued shooting for several seconds, before ending. The coin dropped, and the moogle caught it, calmly replacing it in his pocket.

Then, the two moogles leapt forward, moving at a ridiculously high speed. It was almost difficult to watch the two of them, as they whizzed around through the large crowd.

Wherever the two moogles went, all of the antlions would suddenly slump over, dead. Judgepoints were flying through the air at an incredibly rate, but even they couldn't catch up to their intended targets.

Finally, the two moogles returned to their former positions, and the spell appeared to wear off. Both of their chests were heaving, and they looked completely exhausted, but more than half of the antlions lay dead around them.

The other half were too busy running away to worry about the exhausted foes.

"Now, kupo," Lini said, setting off at a brisk pace down the hill, "we can help them."

The three remaining moogles all stared at each other for few good seconds. Finally, Montblanc muttered, "I'm scared, kupo," and then ran to follow after the mogknight. Isaac and July followed after him a moment later, and they all arrived at the base of the hill to meet their new teammates together.

The two of them were bent over double, and their chests were heaving from the exhertion. There was a small mess of judgepoints littering the ground all around them, along with as of yet unhealed antlion bodies.

As they approached, one of the moogles looked up, and a wide grin crossed his face, "Why hello, Lini. Nice tah see ya again, kupo."

"Carl," Lini said, and her appearance seemed to brighten. "You've arrived in typical style."

The moogle Carl grinned, shrugging. "Iss what I spec'lize in."

Isaac, sizing up this moogle and pointedly not looking at the other, was impressed by what he saw. The moogle was clearly a gadgeteer. Everything about his appearance and fighting style suggested the job. From the wiry muscles bulging even through his fur, to the coin he had flipped, from the way his fingers were always fidgeting, to the gloves he wore with extendable twelve inch blades. Carl was a gadgeteer in every possible detail.

What surprised Isaac about the gadgeteer was how incredibly old he looked. Without a doubt, Carl would be able to give Ezel a run for his money. All of his fur was a light shade of grey, and not the natural grey of commander Diesel's fur, but the pale, patchy grey of age. Behind the very apparent amusement, there was weariness in his light brown eyes. Why Lini would have chosen such an apparently old warrior for what seemed was going to be a highly demanding mission, Isaac had no idea.

As if reading his thoughts, Carl piped up, asking, "So, watcha get me outta early retirement fer?"

"Well, now that everybody is here, kupo," Lini nodded, "I might as well get to business. You all may as well sit down. This could take a while, kupo."

All of the moogles slowly sat down on the grassy hill, each trying to get comfortable. Slowly, seeing as he knew he would have to at some point, Isaac looked over at the final moogle, and, as he knew he would, his eyes fell upon the form of Thomas.

Something surprised him about the other moogle. He wasn't dressed the way he normally would be. Instead of his huge juggler's cloak and hat, he was dressed in a far simpler manner. He had a muscle shirt on, which still maintained his normal red and black colour pattern. Along with this, he wore a simple pair of black pants. Around each of his forearms, Isaac could, for the first time, clearly see the tight leather sheaths which held his melee knives in place. Also, around each of his wrists, there was a small black leather band which stood out starkly against white fur. But that wasn't what surprised him. What surprised him, what truly shocked him about Thom, was the fact that he wasn't wearing his makeup.

Isaac honestly had to stare at his face for a few moments. Underneath that fur, and the slight different shape of his head, there was definitely a face he recognized.

But it was different, somehow. Terribly different. It wasn't the face Isaac had been used to seeing during all of the times Thom had tormented and hurt him as a child. No, it was… different. Curious, innocent, ambitious maybe. However, Thomas's eyes slowly came over to meet Isaac's, and an instant later, that malicious look he was used to returned.

"In short, as I've already told the three of you," Lini said, glancing to Isaac, Montblanc and July, "I am here because I believe that moogles have become an underappreciated and disrepsected race. Considering all the power we once commanded, and our abilities, I believe this is wrong, kupo. Thus, I have come up with a very simple plan which should insure a decent amount of respect for our race, kupo." When nobody said anything for a few moments, Lini explained, "I intend, with all of your help, to find the Twin Blades Avuir."

There was a moment of silence as Lini allowed this statement to hang on the air. Then, the stillness of the late afternoon was broken by Carl, who suddenly burst out into sporadic laughter. Everyone simply sat and stared as the old moogle doubled over, holding his stomach and leaking tears. After what seemed like an unnecessarily long time, he sat back up, and cried out, "Oh, you can't be serious, kupo!"

"I'm very serious, kupo," Lini said simply, shrugging. "I think that we can recover the two blades if we work at it, kupo."

"It doesn' matter how hard we work a' it, we can't do tha'!"

"And why do you suppose that, kupo?" Lini asked, staring the moogle in the eye.

"'Cause iss bin over five hunnerd years, and nobody else's done it yet," Carl said, errupting into laughter again.

"I also happen to have more information than anybody else who has tried as of yet, kupo," Lini said, looking somewhat annoyed.

Carl stopped laughing now, and looked over at her. The other four moogles backed off slightly. They could all tell that this would soon be getting serious.

"Ye don' know what yer gettin' into," Carl said, then cast a finger over to the other moogles. "Ye don' know what yer gettin' _them_ into, kupo!"

"I have done more research about these blades than you could possibly imagine, kupo," Lini replied evenly, "and I do know what I am getting in to."

"Then lemme essplain to the rest of the group, kupo!" Carl said, turning to look to the other four. "The Twin Blades Avuir were hidden away by the 'riginal Lini the Mogknight 'fore his death. He hid them with the greatess o' his skills, and talkin' about him, thass sayin' somethin'. There've been lossa people who've tried to get the blades, kupo. 'Ey all either give up from th' hopelessness, or when their whole group dies, kupo." He looked each one of them squarely in the eye. Isaac saw that the humour was gone, replaced by a strange sharpness. "Thass what ye'll be gettin' yerselves into."

There was silence after he was finished saying this, and the gadgeteer sat back down, looking over to Lini and waiting for her reply.

"That is true, kupo," Lini nodded. "I won't lie. This is one of the greatest challenges of all time. However, I think that I have assembled a good enough team to accomplish it. I have, assembled before me, the greatest musical prodigee the moogle race has ever seen, a mage of skills which surpass even some of the greatest of the nu mous, the greatest smith in all of Baguba whose strength is legend on its streets, a gunner who has squarely faced down both an Ultima Shot and the Worldwyrm, and a juggler whose natural knowledge of movement and knife throwing is known throughout the underworld, kupo. If any group has ever been strong enough to pull this off, kupo," she shrugged, "it's us."

All of them were silent, once again. None of them knew what to say, and, in truth, there really was nothing to say. Finally, Lini went on.

"I will give all of you until the time that the moon is directly above this hill, kupo," she whispered, barely loud enough for them to hear. "If, by then, you have decided to come, meet me in the Keep. I will not look down upon anybody who chooses not to, kupo."

With that, the moogle stood up, and walked up the hill alone. From above, they heard the sound of the door to the Keep opening, and then shutting again.

Then there was silence. Nothing but the sound of the wind blowing over the grass. The five of them sat there for perhaps ten minutes, each lost in their own thoughts, before Carl finally stood up, muttering something about awkward silences, and walked away.

"So…" Isaac started awkwardly. "What're all of you thinking, kupo?"

"I am thinking that I would like some time alone, kupo," July stated, standing up and brushing her clothes off with her hands. "I may see all of you tonight." Then, she too walked away.

That left the three male moogles sitting there. After July was sufficiently out of hearing range, Thomas said, "Wow. What's got her wings in a knot, kupo?"

"She's just always like that, kupo," Isaac replied.

"Reminds me a bit of Eileen, you know," the juggler added, leaning back with his head in the grass.

"How so, kupo?" Isaac asked, biting back his anger.

"That whole 'superior air' thing she's got going on."

"Kupopo?"

"And the way she walks right over you and you just take it like the pu—"

"And I'm going," Montblanc said hurriedly, standing up. He glanced over at Isaac, and said, "When you two are done here, meet me on the other side of the hill. There's more shade over there, kupo."

As Montblanc walked away, Isaac glared back at Thomas, and pushed back the small growl building in his throat, saying instead, "So what, now that we're a good few hundred kilometres away from her, kupo, you're not scared to talk about Eileen?"

"Oh, I'm petrified of talking about her, kupo," Thomas said in mock fear, throwing a hand into the air. "What with you, her big bad protector around. Whatever shall I do?"

"You'll stop talking about my friends, kupo," Isaac said, standing up now. "Each one of them is better than you'll ever be."

"That may be true, kupo," the juggler admitted, gazing at the clouds. Then, he turned his gaze over to Isaac, and his eyes were hard, "But, at least I have the consolation of knowing I'll always be able to take you."

"Bring it on!" Isaac yelled. "So what, you give me a few bruises every now and again, kupo. I can deal with that. But can you deal with the fact that you're totally alone here, and you'll never have any true friends?"

"Because _you _know so much about friendship, kupo?" Thomas countered, glaring at him.

After a moment of silence, Isaac replied, "More than some."

The two stared at each other for a long time after that. Finally, Thomas slowly rolled over to his feet, and walked away. Isaac remained standing for a few more moments, then heaved a giant sigh. He sat heavily back down in the grass and shaded his eyes from the sun, gazing out across the plains for miles. He tried to focus on the rows and rows of hills instead of the memories which were surfacing unbidden to his head. Thomas…

"One of us isn't going to survive this, kupo," he said aloud, realizing it suddenly. And then he went on, speaking to the grass, to the hills, to the clouds. "At some point in this world, one of us is going to die, and it will be the other's fault."

Having said that, Isaac placed his hands behind his head, pulling himself into a ball in the grass. He hadn't wanted to come to that realization. But it was true. There was no way that the two of them would make it through their lives here, with so fewer laws preventing fighting and murder. One day, they would meet in a jagd or some other Totema foresaken place, and that would be the end of one of them.

Groaning, Isaac stood up, muttering, "Bloody hell, kupo." He started up towards the crest of the hill, figuring he would go and speak with Montblanc. He really did not want to be alone with his thoughts at the moment, finding them disturbing. However, as he was passing the Keep, he could hear raised voices coming from within. Feeling curious, Isaac slowly approached the door, and placed an ear up against it.

"…don' understand, kupo!"

"I understand your concerns, kupo, but they will not sway m—"

"Then you don' understand my concerns, Lini! They're too young fer this!"

"I've watched many of them do more than this firsthand, kupo."

"Dammit, Lini! If one o' 'em dies—"

"Then I will take full responsibility. Even if they agree to come with me, kupo, I will force none of them to do anything against their wills. I also promise that I will take all the most dangerous assignments myself."

"That ain't 'nough!"

"Well it is all you are getting from me, Carl. You have earned my respect many times over during the years, kupo, but you will never shake me from my course."

Deciding it would be better to leave before one or the other of them left, Isaac continued on his way to the other side of the hill. No sooner had the moogle started down the slope than he heard the door to the Keep swing open and slam against the wall. The gunner could actually hear the gadgeteer stomping away, heading down the hill in a different direction.

The moogle slowly made his way down the hill, stopping when he saw Montblanc. The moogle was sitting in the dark shade of the hill, a small line of fire dancing around one of his paws. It twirled around each of his fingers separately, winding in and out, and sometimes simply wrapping several times around the same finger until it ran out of room. The light of the flames cast an eery glow across his pensive face, making him look far older than he should have been.

"Well, it looks like this is going to shape up to be quite the happy little family, kupo," he said quietly, startling Isaac. The gunner hadn't known he'd been detected.

"How do you mean, kupo?"

"Well, July, Thomas and you have been at each other's throats since you all met, and Carl looks like he's going to blow a vein whenever he talks to Lini."

"It didn't look like Thomas and July were that tense, kupo," Isaac replied, taking a seat beside Montblanc to watch his dancing fires.

"You weren't paying attention then," Montblanc said, suddenly closing his hand, extinguishing the flames. He looked up to Isaac, explaining, "The moment they saw each other, this look passed between them. The best description for it would be 'absolute disgust'. And, they each saw the other one with that expression, and then they kept glaring at each other while Lini was talking."

"I missed that, kupo?" Isaac asked, surprised.

"You were too busy not looking at Thomas."

"Ah."

"What is it between the two of you, anyways, kupo?" Montblanc asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"Well," Isaac laughed, "to put it simply: lots. It's a story that's too long for me to tell now."

"Sum it up for me."

"Uh, he's tormented me since I was eight years old, he tried to kill my captain, he knifed me in the arm, and he's been taking every chance to beat my fur black and blue for the past eight months, kupo."

"Ah," Montblanc replied after a moment. "I see."

"Yeah, kupo. Hey, if _you _don't mind _me _asking, what was going on during the battle earlier today?"

"Unfortunately," the moogle whispered, "I do mind, kupo."

"Oh…" Isaac said very slowly, leaning back into the grass. He took off his fedora, and laid it across his chest. "Okay."

"Sorry, kupo," Montblanc said. "I just… don't want to talk about it."

"Understood," Isaac replied, shrugging.

Isaac remained lying down, simply watching the clouds floating lazily through the sky bright orange sky. The sun was just beginning to set, the moon already having come out from the horizon. Montblanc didn't say anything; just continued sitting there, lost in thought.

As the sun finally set and the moon appeared properly in the sky, Isaac quietly asked, "So, what are you thinking, kupo."

"I'm thinking that I'm hungry," the Black mage said. Isaac glanced up, and saw that Montblanc was withdrawing a piece of jerky from his pack. He bit a piece of the tough meat off, and began chewing, asking Isaac, "Want some, kupo?"

"I meant what are you thinking about this mission, kupo. And yes."

Montblanc ripped a piece of the jerky off, passing it over to Isaac, saying, "Oh, I'm definitely going on the mission. I've known that from the start."

"You're serious, kupo?" Isaac demanded. "Then what have you been doing this whole time?"

"Daydreaming. You?"

"I've been wondering about whether I want to go on this mission!"

"Why is it so hard to decide, kupo?"

"Well… I don't know, kupo," Isaac admitted.

"Look, if it's just because this Thomas guy might be coming along, then that's stupid."

"Is it?"

"Yes," Montblanc nodded emphatically. "You would let something like that hold you back from the oppurtunity of a lifetime?"

"Well…"

"And besides that, it's not like you'll have to spend all your time with him, kupo," Montblanc went on. "Carl seems nice enough, and there's always me."

"It's not all just Thomas, kupo," Isaac objected.

"Oh?"

"Well, it's…" he paused, and then he went on, "it's all of you."

"Kupopo?"

"Well, I mean, just look at today," Isaac said, spreading his arms out wide. "Look at everything everybody else on this team can do. You've fought with _Totema_ for crying out loud! I've always just been at the right place at the right time, kupo."

"Are you kidding?" Montblanc demanded. "Isaac, kupo, you've really got to get over your inferiority complex. Neither July or I could have taken down those antlions today without your help."

Isaac shook his head, and muttered, "It's not the same…"

"Why," Montblanc demanded, "because unlike me, your abilities are useful for something other than mass killings, kupo?"

"No, of course no—"

"Then what is it, Isaac?"

The gunner opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He couldn't think of any words to refute what Montblanc had said. After a few moments, the Black mage nodded.

"That's what I thought, kupo."

Isaac sighed, and laid back down again. He watched the sky for a few moments, then said, "We should get going, kupo. I get the feeling she wouldn't like it if we were late."

Montblanc nodded his ascent, and the two of them made their way slowly up the hill. As they approached, they gradually became aware of a soft sound. Isaac glanced over at Montblanc, who shrugged. The two of them continued on, somewhat more cautiously than before, until they reached the top of the hill. Slowly poking their heads over the crest, they found the source of the noise.

July was standing calmly, looking up at the moon. In her paws, she held the silver flute they'd seen earlier, and as her fingers worked carefully along its many keys, it created a very soft and melodic sound, which wafted slowly to their ears.

The two simply stood there, listening in secret for a few moments. She only played for perhaps ten more seconds, before she brought the flute down from its position by her face and said, "It is quite impolite to spy."

Both of them jumped slightly, and quickly climbed up the remaining few feet of the hill, coming into full view. Montblanc began speaking very quickly, trying to excuse them, but July interrupted him coolly.

"You do not need to explain, kupo. I would just prefer it if the two of you would come out into the open and not attempt to remain hidden from me."

"Uh…" the mage started, then stopped, and continued speaking, "Of course. We're sorry, kupo."

"No, kupo, you are not," she said matter-of-factly, turning away from them and placing her flute back into its sheath at her leg.

Isaac cast a look over to Montblanc which quite clearly stated, 'Can I please kill her?' Montblanc rolled his eyes, and took a seat on the grass. Slowly, he laid back, and closed his eyes, clearly showing that he didn't want to talk about it.

Isaac sighed, and turned to July. "So, uh, kupo, do you know Lini somehow?"

"I had never met her before this day," July said simply. "Apparently, it is my reputation preceeding me."

"Ah," Isaac replied, arching his eyebrows slightly. That had been a slightly _more _arrogant answer than the one he'd expected. "You're that good then, kupo?"

"I am told that I am, kupo. I'm a 'child prodegy', or so they say."

" 'So they say', kupo?" Isaac asked.

"So they say," she repeated, then glanced over to the left. "I believe that our companions are arriving, kupo."

"Huh?" Isaac asked in surprise, looking over in the same direction she had. A moment later, Thomas made his way up the hillside, his head down. He glanced up as he crested the hill, and cocked an eyebrow.

"Why are you two staring at me, kupo?"

"No reason, kupo," July shrugged, looking away from him, and turning her gaze to the stars.

_Her hearing is better than mine…_ Isaac thought in amazement, looking over at the animist. _Her eyes, too… Child prodegy? Who is she?_

Any further contemplation was cut short, however, as the door to the Keep slowly opened. All four of the moogles quickly turned towards the creaking sound, and there was a general intake of breath from all of them. They stared as Lini strode out without any hesitation, and cast a quick glance around herself at all of them.

"I see, kupo," she said quietly. "So all of you have decided to come, kupo?"

"Nah," Thomas drawled sarcastically. "We were hoping we might fight a few more antlions by moonlight, kupo."

"While you have an incredible sense of humour, kupo," Lini said sharply, barely casting him a glance, "I do not appreciate it while I'm speaking, and I'll thank you not to interrupt me again."

"You'll 'thank' me, kupo?" Thomas laughed, shaking his head. "Listen, kupo—"

He stopped abruptly when he found that there was suddenly a blade resting comfortably beneath his chin. He, and the other three moogles, blinked. How had she moved so fast?

"Anything else you feel like saying right now, kupo?" the mogknight asked. She waited several seconds, simply watching Thomas's terrified eyes, before muttering, "Then, thank you."

She turned around and sheathed her blade, then said very quietly, "What I said earlier was the truth. The four of you are some of the most talented and powerful moogles I have ever seen. However, let me make this perfectly clear, kupo, so that there are no doubts."

She turned, looking each one in the eye. When her eyes fell upon the still-shaken Thomas, they came to a rest, and he took a step back. She continued. "I am in command here. What Carl said about this being an incredibly dangerous mission was an understatement, kupo. If we do not all listen to one leader and remain united, it is terribly likely that we will all die."

She allowed silence to reign for a short time after that, so that her words would sink in to all of them. Each one fell momentarily back into their own thoughts.

Isaac, for his part, looking carefully at Lini, became suddenly aware of what this mission just might cost him. He might never see his friends again. This could be the end of it, for all he knew. He honestly had no idea as to whether or not he was willing to give up that much, for a simple pair of weapons. He glanced around at the other four who were there. He couldn't measure up to any of them! His mind started racing and panicking. What was he doing there? Why had he ever agreed to this? He wasn't cut out for this kind of a mission. This was the sort of thing that heroes with nothing better to do went for, not a fifteen year-old boy from a town in the middle of nowhere!

Lini spoke again, suddenly, and asked quietly, "I'd like to know, kupo, for my own curiosity: why is it that you have all decided to come on this mission?"

Almost instantly, July was speaking. It almost seemed as though she had had the answer ready, and recited it over and over to memorisation. "I am here because I must prove my worth, kupo." Simple, and short. The others waited for her to say more, but a placid look had come to her face, and she went no further.

They were all quiet for a moment, then Thomas piped up, apparently settled back down after his moment of panic. "I'm considering this a test, kupo," the juggler said simply, shrugging. "It's a test of everything I've learned since…" his eyes caught Isaac's, and the moogle knew what he meant to say. Instead, Thomas said, "since certain changes took place in my life. I want to see how much better I've become, kupo."

"I'm here because I feel somehow that…" Montblanc stopped in midsentence. He seemed to think for a moment, then went on. "…that there's a reason why I'm in this world, kupo. There's a reason why I live in Ivalice, at this time, and that my living will come to a purpose, kupo. And I feel that that purpose…" he stopped again, this time for longer. Perhaps half a minute went by, when finally he finished, "…that purpose isn't to be the one who destroys the World Threads, kupo."

Isaac stared at Montblanc as the black mage finished. He hadn't expected anything like that from the great mage. He had known that he would have some sort of a significant reason, but never anything so… personal. To know that even somebody that powerful was so insecure about his position…

And then, suddenly, before he even realised it, Isaac knew why he was there, and he was speaking. "I'm here because I never want to feel like a burden to anybody ever again, kupo. I've always relied on the people around me to help me out of the difficult situations, kupo, and I hope that by coming on this mission with all of you, I'll learn how to live without weighing down those closest to me."

Once again, quiet reigned over the assembled group for a few moments. This quiet was broken, however, by a voice calling out from the dark.

"I'd never do this m'self, if I had th' choice, kupo" the voice said, and slowly, Carl approached, the moon providing just enough soft light to illuminate. "But I'm comin', outta no hope fer glory or 'xperience. I'm comin' 'cause I got a duty t' protect alla' yeh."

"Duty?" Lini asked, cocking her head to the side slightly.

"Call it a gift teh this gen'ration from th' last," he muttered, shrugging. "I'm in this 'till alla' yeh see sense. No more'n that."

"Understood, kupo," Lini said, inclining her head to him. "I feel much better knowing that you'll be with us."

"Yeh should, kupo…"

With that, Lini turned her attention away from him, and swept her gaze around at each of them. She stood in the centre of the group, so she did a very slow full rotation, looking each of them up and down. Finally, she said, "Well, this is our group, kupo. Everyone, take good looks at each other. We're going to be spending the next several months together. Even if some of you don't like each other kupo, learn to work and live together. We'll spend tonight in the Keep, and I suggest that you all get some sleep. Tomorrow at noon," she grinned, and walked towards the Keep, leaving them all behind her, "it begins."


	47. Isaac vs Thomas

_It had been a long time since he had been here last. He still remembered the place, though, in perfect and stunning detail. Everything, physically, was the same, and yet… not quite. There was a certain shine which was missing, a certain hollowness in the sounds around him. Even as he wandered about, he could feel a slight tugging in his chest, a slight pain and emptyness. However, he had to come here. The last few details of his research could be found nowhere else. Thus, he just had to swallow, bite his lip, and press through. He could feel it, the coming adventure. Almost as if he could touch—_

Isaac's eyes shot open, and he tried to call out. However, the paw laid across his mouth prevented him from making any noise. Confused, he waited for his eyes to focus. Slowly, all of the many coloured blurs began running together to form the image of a white-furred moogle he knew very well.

To the gunner's questioning look, Thomas nodded towards Isaac's blade, and then simply walked away. Isaac, still quite confused, grabbed the weapon from where it lay next to him, and followed the juggler. The two of them picked their way carefully across the floor, being careful not to step on any of the others. Thomas slowly pulled open the door, being careful to prevent it from creaking, and then the two of them stepped out of the Keep, and into the night air.

The time must have been at least three in the morning. The moon was well into its gradual descent back down to the horizon, and there was a soft breeze running through all the grass. Isaac shivered once as they left the building, kept warm with all of their body heat, and followed Thomas further forward. They didn't speak until they reached the base of the hill, and were situated in a tiny gully between it and another rise. There, Thomas turned around, and pulled out his two fighting knives.

"I figured that the two of us will never be able to work together unless we finish this right here, kupo, right now," he said simply, getting down into a fighting stance. "So, once and for all. No guns, no throwing knives, no fatal hits. Only melee, kupo."

Isaac stared at him for a few moments, before inquiring, "Have you gone mad, kupo?"

"Kupokupo…" Thomas sighed in frustration. "Look, I want to get over this at least for this mission. And the only way I'll ever be able to do that is if we fight and find out who's better, kupo. Got it?"

Shrugging, Isaac raised his blade to point at his old rival, and said simply, "If we must."

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Thomas came flying at him with his knives leading in with a dozen different attacks every second. Isaac had no choice other than to back off quickly, blocking a few of the stabs in order to slow the juggler's mad dash forward. Metal rang out glaringly loud against the otherwise silent night, and their battle was begun.

Isaac continued backing up along the soft grass, waiting for an opportunity to strike back. His eyes watched all of the knives' movements, and he forced himself to react in time with the attacks. Quickly, he began seeing patterns in Thomas' flurries of attacks, and began placing his blade at angles which would allow him to block several of the attacks at once.

Suddenly, Isaac became aware of the fact that the earth beneath him was slowly raising up into a general incline. He was gradually gaining a greater and greater amount of height on the juggler before him. Grinning internally, he made his plans, and waited.

When he felt that the amount of height he had over Thomas was great enough, Isaac bunched up his legs, and, bringing his blade suddenly out in front of him in position to attack, jumped, throwing himself forward. Thomas, seeing the gunner's plan too late, could do nothing other than block the blade with both knives.

For a moment, it appeared as though Thomas' block might be strong enough to stop Isaac's flight. However, while Isaac was the shorter of the two, his muscle mass made him heavier. Thomas cried out as he felt himself being pushed backwards and over onto his back, and then the two of them hit the ground in a tangle of fur and fists, and rolled down the hill.

When they hit the bottom, both moogles quickly disengaged from each other, then picked themselves up and faced each other again. Isaac was breathing heavily, and he could feel a black eye coming on. However, Thomas was definitely the worst off from their little confrontation. Seeing as he had been caught on the bottom for most of their fight, there were grass stains in his fur, and scrapes and bruises showing all over him.

Both of them had dropped their weapons, so each walked slowly over to grab them, their eyes never leaving each other. Then they approached each other again, and held their weapons ready.

"You still want this, kupo?" Isaac asked, grinning.

"You got lucky," he shrugged. "Let's get to it."

Isaac's blade whipped out in a slash, attempting to begin in control this time. Thomas dodged back easily, then hopped nimbly forward, bringing a knife in at Isaac's exposed side. Having no other option, the gunner simply let his legs fall out from underneath him. He dropped, the knife going harmlessly high.

Isaac's back slammed into the ground, and he wheezed, winded. He didn't get a chance to rest, however, as Thomas' foot rose up for a stomp. Thinking quickly, Isaac rolled, not away from Thomas, but instead towards him. He threw himself against his opponent's legs, knocking him over as well. Isaac continued rolling as Thomas fell, gasping to try and fill his lungs.

He got up to his feet, slower this time than the last, and turned to face Thomas. The juggler had also gotten up, and was facing him, knives ready.

"Alright," Isaac gasped, his air not fully restored. "You win… that one, kupo."

"Best 2 out of 3, then?" Thomas asked, then, very sarcastically, "or do you need to rest for a bit, kupo?"

"I'm good, kupo," Isaac said, though in all truth, he wasn't.

They both ran at each other, holding their weapons ready for the clash. Their feet padded quietly against cool grass, and a slight wind struck up as they approached, preparing for their final round…

Suddenly, a shaft of moonlight flashed in front of Isaac's vision. A moment later, his blade clashed against steel. However, it was no small knife that it came into contact with, and most definitely no weapon held by Thomas. There was far, far too much strength put behind that block. Confused, Isaac's eyes widened, still slightly blinded from the flash of light. In an instant, the pressure against his own blade multiplied at least twenty fold. Isaac, having nowhere near enough strength to withstand such force, felt his blade flying back, dragging him along with it.

He fell back at least five metres, before hitting the ground. There, he didn't go more than two feet, as his blade impaled itself fully into the ground, grinding the moogle to a jarring halt. Then he was still, and he simply laid on the grass for a short time, gasping in air again.

"The next time the two of you want to try and kill each other, kupo," came a hard, female voice, "please do it a far enough distance away that it won't wake us."

Isaac slowly rolled over off of his stomach, then sat up. He found Lini standing several metres in front of him, her sword out and reflecting the pale moonlight. Standing back to back with her was Carl, the claws on his knuckles still fully extended. Laying in a very similar position as Isaac several metres before Carl, lay a surprised looking Thomas.

Isaac could only stare on in mild terror as the mogknight very gradually began making her way over to him, her eyes fixed on his. Her fur seemed even more white in the moon, and there was something about those eyes of hers… so dark brown, they were nearly black. However, much like her blade, the moon seemed to reflect perfectly from them, giving them a somewhat glowing appearance.

She stopped, standing right in front of him, leaning carefully on her blade. Then, she looked over her shoulder, and said, "Carl, if you don't mind, I'll take this one, kupo."

"Not't all," the gadgeteer responded. He released the grip on his knuckles, and the blades receeded into them. He stepped forward, showing no hesitation, and grabbed Thomas by the front of his shirt. Then, he began walking away, dragging the juggler behind him, and saying, "W'll go find some'ere more private t'talk, kupo. Besides, Lini c'n get a bit scary sometimes…"

Isaac and Lini watched while Carl dragged Thomas away, the young juggler showing no signs of protest. Finally, when they had been lost from sight around the hill, Lini looked back to Isaac, and cocked an eyelid.

"Are you going to breathe anytime soon, kupo, or were you planning on some new form of survival?"

Isaac, realising that he hadn't breathed for perhaps a minute, opened his mouth and began gasping in air again, staring at her.

"Rule number one, Isaac," Lini said, staring down at him. "Breathe."

"Excuse me, kupo?" Isaac gasped.

"I just thought I should explain to you the basics, kupo, as I have just found another reason to assume your stupidity."

Isaac blinked at that slight. Ow.

"Now," the mogknight continued on, before Isaac could respond, "get up, kupo, and grab your blade."

Isaac picked himself up, and, after a good deal of effort, managed to tug his weapon out of the ground. He turned around to face Lini, but had to jump back and cry out in surprise as the tip of her blade whistled by just in front of his face.

"Kupopo!?"

"You wanted to fight somebody, right?" she said, holding her blade out in front of her. "Why not me?"

Silence reigned for a good thirty seconds, before Isaac blurted out, "Are you _insane_, kupo? You think I'd fight you?"

"Well, you've got a choice, kupo," she said simply, still in her ready position. "Either you can fight me for your punishment, or you can get your ears cut off by my blade, because whether you like it or not, I'm attacking you."

"You're not serious…"

To show just how serious she, was, Lini swung her blade, ridiculously fast, at just above Isaac's head. The blade stopped suddenly, just as a stinging pain shot into the base of Isaac's ear.

"Frick, kupo!" Isaac yelled, backing up and reaching up to his ears. He felt, and found there was a small nip missing from the base of his right ear. Pulling his paw away, Isaac stared at the blood, then yelled, "What was that for?"

"That was for proof that I would cut your ears off if I had to, kupo," she said simply, then raised her blade so that it pointed directly at the other moogle. "So, are you going to fight?"

Isaac could only stare at her for a several moments, and then, very, very slowly, he raised his left paw, with the blade clamped in it. He could feel the sweat soaking the fur of that paw, yet his mouth seemed incredibly dry for some reason.

"Alright then," she nodded. "Let's go."

All of a sudden, the mogknight was in front of him. Gasping, Isaac watched her blade swing, then brought his own up to block it. Her attack slammed in far before the guard ever would have managed to get into place, the flat of the blade knocking Isaac over one metre to the right. He landed, and moaned.

"Pick yourself up, kupo," she muttered. "And a piece of advice: if your opponent's arm is faster than yours, it's no use waiting for her to attack to place your block."

Isaac slowly picked himself up, rubbing his shoulder where the blow had landed. "You know, kupo, you pretty much just told me I should foresee the attack."

"Yes, I did, kupo."

"Well, sorry to disappoint, but my Third Eye isn't for combat," he muttered. "That's impossible."

Isaac was very pleased to see Lini blink once. She muttered, "You've got a Third Eye, kupo?"

"Emotion, kupo."

"Right, well that's something none of my information told me, kupo. Either way, it is possible to foresee the attack, and you don't need a Third Eye of Combat for it. Now try it out."

She came at him again, and he raised his blade to defend. However, her blade easily whipped past the guard, and smashed into his cheek. Isaac went flying again, landing with a slightly more audible moan than last time.

"It also doesn't work if you just raise your blade at random, kupo," she offered, standing back. "You want some more?"

"Not particularly, kupo…"

"Alright, I'll let you off for tonight, then, kupo," she said, then sheathed her blade and turned away. Before she left, however, she called to him over her shoulder. "Partly as punishment, and partly because your sworsdmanship is absolutely terrible from that display with Thomas there, kupo, you'll be my sparring partner every night for the duration of this mission. Good night."

Isaac laid spread eagle on the grass for some time, pain radiating from several areas. Then, he slowly sat up, and thought, _I have to do this every night!?_

"Oh Famfrit," he whispered quietly, standing up achily. "I'll never survive this."


	48. First Engagement

"I hear something up ahead, kupo," July said, glancing over her shoulder towards Lini.

It was late afternoon of the next day. The six moogles had been marching most of the day, having left at dawn that morning. Lini had roused all of them at dawn and informed them that it was time for them to get moving. At current, they were headed in a mainly north-western direction, but that was understandable; there wasn't too much which could be reached to the south of the Aisen Plains without a ship. The further north they ventured, the greater and greater the size of the hills got.

They were moving in a formation which Lini had contrived for maximum advantage. July and Isaac were the point and rear guards respectively due to their sharp senses, with Lini behind July and Carl before Isaac. Between these two, stood Montblanc and Thomas, each being particularly skilled in mid range combat.

Lini still hadn't explained to the other five where they were going, but she appeared very sure of the direction. Every now and again she would pause to gaze up at the sun, and sometimes get them to change their direction somewhat.

Upon hearing the warning from the animist from up ahead, Lini held up a paw, getting everybody to halt. Without even looking back, she stated more than asked, "Thomas."

The juggler stepped forward, saying, "Kupopo?"

"Scout ahead. If you see any enemies, come back and report, kupo. If you have to fight, take them out fast, and come directly back."

Thomas nodded, then set off ahead, keeping his head low and jumping from side to side with each foot as he ran.

"While he's gone, kupo, let's take a bit of a rest. But keep quiet, just in case."

The others all nodded, and sat down. As Isaac plomped down, Montblanc stepped over and sat next to him.

"So, what were you doing last night, kupo?" the black mage asked.

"What do you mean, kupo?" Isaac asked suspiciously. Neither he or Thomas had spoken about their battle the night before so far.

"Oh, kupo, come on. You have the most gigantic bags under your eyes, and you and Thomas keep staring at each other. Not to mention the fact that you both look like you came off worse in a bar fight."

"Oh, right, kupo," Isaac muttered, reaching up to gingerly feel his black left eye. "The two of us might have had a little duel last night."

"Really, kupo?" the mage asked, looking intrigued. "Who won?"

"Uh, nobody, kupo…"

"Kupopo? I mean, the two of you don't seem the type to say, 'Oh, we both did well, let's call it a draw'."

"Well, we sort of got interrupted by Lini and Carl, and, uh… the short version of events is that I have to fight Lini every night for the rest of the mission."

"Kupopo!?" Montblanc demanded, staring at him. "Are you serious? I mean, that's so…"

"I know, kupo," he sighed.

"…great!"

It was Isaac's turn to say, "Kupopo!?"

"Well, just think about it, kupo!" Montblanc exclaimed. "You're receiving one-on-one training with the strongest living mog knight! Just think of how much stronger you'll get!"

"Yeah," Isaac said, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "and all at the measly cost of a few dozen welts and bruises and about an hour's less sleep every night."

"True…" Montblanc conceded. "Still, I'd consider that as a pretty small cost for some training with, say, the Archmage Quin!"

"You, not me," Isaac stated flatly, then blinked suddenly. "Wait, the _Archmage _Quin? As in the Quin that Eileen is going out with?"

"Of course, kupo," Montblanc said matter-of-factly. "He's the archmage of all of Cadoan city. Didn't you know that? …Uh, are you alright? You're looking kind of pale."

"I think I need to sit down, kupo," Isaac muttered.

"You already are sitting."

"Dammit, kupo!"

Fortunately, at that moment, Thomas returned. He came running in that same manner, head low, and stopped just in front of Lini. There, he took a few moments to catch his breath, and then said, "There's a clan up ahead. Looks pretty small, though the few members I did see seemed tough."

"Any mages or rangers, kupo?" Lini inquired, threading her fingers pensively.

"I think one elementalist, and I couldn't tell if there were any rangers. They were probably acting as shadows or scouts, if there were any, kupo."

"How many did you see in total?"

"Probably eight."

She remained sitting in thought for a moment longer, before calling out, "Alright, kupo, we'll take them."

"Kupopo?" Isaac asked, glancing over at her. "But we don't have to, kupo!"

"No, we don't, but I still haven't seen two of you fight yet, and I'd like to."

"What about the cla—"

"It's not like they're going to die or anything, kupo," the mogknight said, shrugging. "This sort of thing happens all the time."

Isaac opened his mouth to argue, but Montblanc's paw quickly clamped over it. Isaac turned to the mage, and found the member of Clan Nutsy glaring at him. Montblanc whispered, "Be quiet."

"If there are no more objections?" Lini asked. When no sound came from the others, she stood up, and said, "Alright, then. This is how it will work. Montblanc, I want you to take the mage. Carl and July, please take down four between you, and I'll take on three. Isaac and Thomas, kupo, I want the two of you to hold back and deal with any rangers we might not have seen beforehand. Understood?"

Everybody nodded, and with that, they all got up and started moving. As they walked forward, more carefully now, Isaac whispered to Montblanc, "What was that about, kupo?"

"I could ask you the exact same thing, kupo!" Montblanc whispered back furiously. "You flat out questioned her authority!"

"I don't feel right with this, kupo!" Isaac replied simply. "We shouldn't be doing this!"

"Nutsy does this all the time, kupo, just like every other clan," Montblanc said back. "You'd better get used to it. Now excuse me, I need to get my energy ready for the fight."

Isaac watched as the other moogle pulled a few steps ahead of him, then bowed his head. He still wasn't alright with this. There was something just wrong about it.

Glancing about, he noticed that nobody else seemed in the least bit troubled by the prospect. Perhaps it was because Isaac had never actually been a member of a clan, or perhaps it was due to his experiences from the old world. Either way, Isaac doubted that he would ever understand it.

Soon, they arrived at the crest of a larger hill. Looking down into the small valley down below, they could see the clan. Indeed, there were eight, all laying around comfortably. Isaac couldn't make out many details from where he was standing, but just from the weapons each one had with them, they did indeed look sufficiently proficient.

"Alright, then," Lini said, drawing out a judgepoint. "Everybody ready? I declare and engagement!"

This, she yelled, loud enough for the clan below to hear her.

Instantly, the four of the moogles involved in the battle plans began charging down the steep hill, with Lini at their lead. The clanners below all jumped up and drew their weapons, impressively fast. Isaac watched as all of the apparent warriors charged forward, while the mage remained behind, holding her rapier ready.

The first warrior met with Lini, and a terrifying battle ensued. He swung his broadsword once, and Lini blocked, still running. Then, using her blade on her opponent's weapon as a lever, she leapt, going over the broadsword. The blade swung out before her, and the bangaa's head left its body, flying several feet before hitting the ground.

She landed easily, and continued going. Lini met two humans, one bearing a katana, the other a blade. Both swung at the same time, and she blocked both attacks on the one blade. With little effort, she pushed her blade upwards, defeating the strength of both humans. Then, she spun around once incredibly quickly, slashing deep wounds into both of their sides, and throwing them a few feet away. She came out of her spin facing the remaining four warriors, looking completely ready to deliver bloody execution.

However, she calmly sheathed her blade, then turned away and said, "Your turn."

With that, Carl and July past her, he clenching his fists to bring the blades out, she placing her lips to her flute.

"This sucks," Thomas muttered as they watched from up above.

"Oh, come on, it's not _that _bad, kupo," Isaac replied, his eyes scanning the hills around them.

"They get to fight, while we have to sit up here and watch? I call that pretty harsh punishment."

"Speaking of punishment, kupo, what did Carl do to you last night?"

"Oh, right," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "Said that I had to start taking knife-fighting lessons with him every night."

"You too, huh?" the gunner asked.

"What, you've gotta train against Lini!?" Thomas blurted out, laughing. "Oh, you're screwed."

"That, I know," he muttered. All of a sudden, his hand went to his Longbarrel, and he said, "One ranger, kupo, hill on the right. I'll stop him, you knife him."

He drew the weapon, and without even needing time to aim, fired. The bullet travelled the distance, and coined the archer off the head. He instantly stopped pulling back his loaded bowstring, just standing there staring.

Thomas ran off towards him, two throwing knives suddenly appearing in his hands. Once he was a few metres away, he threw both knives, landing them in his target's chest. He looked back over to Isaac with a look that said, "Oh yeah, I know I'm good."

Fortunately for him Isaac didn't see the look, and was far more interested in shooting another bullet at the sniper lining up a shot for the back of Thom's head. This bullet hit the sniper in the eye, and she fell back, reeling in pain. Thom spun around, another knife appearing in his hand, and threw. The knife slammed perfectly into the sniper's neck, silencing her cries.

The juggler ran back over to Isaac's side, eyes somewhat wide. When he arrived, he said, "Thanks for that, kupo."

"No problem," Isaac replied, shrugging. "Part of the whole 'team' thing."

"Right…"

The two stood there very quietly and awkwardly for a moment or so. They were forced out of their silences when there was a loud roar and several bright flashes of light. Isaac and Thomas turned to stare at the bottom of the valley, where Montblanc had engaged the elementalist. She kept pointing her rapier, sending out coloured balls of energy at him. Every time one would come for him, Montblanc would throw one or another spell at the orb with his staff, destroying it before it touched him.

This continued for quite a while, until the elementalist had to fall back and catch her breath. Jumping on the oppurtunity, Montblanc pointed at the elementalist, and yelled out, "_Halt!_" The elementalist stopped moving, frozen in the middle of a breath.

Montblanc ran forward the last few steps to be standing just before the elementalist, then pointed two fingers at her. He said something which even Isaac couldn't make out, and two jets of electricity flew from those two fingers. They arched up and down the viera's length for several seconds, before Montblanc cancelled the spell. The elementalist remained there, simmering for several seconds, before time came back into play. The elementalist opened her mouth to scream, but simply fell back as the force of several thousand watts of energy caught up to her.

The black mage backed up several steps, and began breathing terribly heavy. He went down slowly to one knee, leaning heavily on his staff.

"Is the engagement over, kupo?" Isaac asked, glancing over to Thomas.

"It should be…" the juggler muttered, his eyes scanning the terrain below them. "Ah, yep, there goes the judge."

Even as he said so, the judge became wreathed in white energy, and disappeared. Isaac and Thomas quickly began making their way down the hill to meet up with the other four. They skirted the unconscious bodies of the seven fallen warriors, and were met by Lini.

"That was very well done, you two, kupo," the mogknight said, nodding to them.

"You saw that, up there, kupo?" Thomas asked, tilting his head back towards the hill where he'd killed the two rangers.

"Yes. The two of you work very well together, kupo," she said thoughtfully. "I'll have to remember that…"

Isaac and Thomas both looked at each other with a look which clearly said, _Oh $#!+!_

However, any protests they may have mounted were quickly subdued when Carl walked over, with Montblanc leaning heavily on his side.

"C'd we get goin', kupo?" the gadgeteer asked. "Th' mage ain't doin' so good."

"Of course, kupo," Lini said, glancing around at each of the others. "Are the rest of you alright?" When they all nodded, Lini went on, "Okay, then. Let's keep going, kupo. We'll make camp at nightfall. Isaac, would you help Carl with Montblanc there, kupo? Thanks."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

As the sun finally dipped down below the horizon, the six moogles halted their treck, and Lini quickly began assigning jobs to everybody.

"Montblanc, get a fire started, and prepare some food. July, start setting up the tents. Carl, kupo, go out and try to find us some water. Thomas, scout the area to make sure there aren't any… undesirables."

As everybody hopped up to get to their tasks, Isaac glanced over at Lini confusedly. "Er, what are we doing, kupo?"

"The two of us are going to train so that we can get to bed at the same time as everybody else, kupo," she said simply, drawing out her blade. "Follow me, please."

Isaac groaned, but did as he was told. In all truth, he would much rather bite off each of his fingers and then eat them, but he had no choice.

He followed her until they were a few hills away from the rest. Then, Lini turned to him, and asked, "So, do you have a problem with the way I handled that clan earlier today, kupo?"

Isaac paused at this, staring at her. He really hadn't been expecting that one. He was about to mutter that he didn't, but then, something forced him to speak the truth.

"It wasn't right, kupo," he said simply.

" 'Wasn't right', kupo?"

"It wasn't right. They were just minding their own business, and then we came and…"

"Tore them to pieces?" she supplied.

"I was looking for a less graphic word, but yes."

"Why do you fight, kupo?" Lini asked.

"Kupopo?"

"I want to know why it is that you fight."

"Er…" Isaac searched for words. There weren't any.

"You've never thought about it before, have you, kupo?" she stated, smirking.

"I can't say that I have, kupo…"

Still grinning, she raised her blade, and told him, "I want you to attack me this time, kupo."

Isaac sighed, then nodded. He slowly drew his blade from its sheathe, then, after a moment's thought, he tossed off the rest of his gear to make him more light. Then, he held his blade ready in front of him.

"Well?" the mogknight asked him after a moment. "Are you going to just stare at that blade all day, kupo, or are you going to use it?"

Isaac growled, then lunged forward recklessly. He swung his blade as quickly as he could, whipping it across and nearly spraining his wrist with the force. A metallic clang rang out, and when he looked up, he saw that Lini was holding her blade almost lazily in a block out in front of her.

"Is that the best you can do, kupo?" she demanded.

Isaac growled again, then spun, whipping his blade around again. He felt the vibrations running up his arm, but didn't wait for the mogknight to taunt him. Instead, he drew back and struck again, harder this time. Again a block. Isaac swung and swung and swung, harder and faster than he ever had, but each time, the mogknight in front of him managed to block the attack without the slightest bit of effort. Soon, sweat was dripping from his fur, stinging his eyes and the cuts he had received from his fight the day before. On and on it went, for perhaps ten straight minutes, nothing but him swinging the blade.

Finally, when Isaac felt he might collapse soon from exhaustion, he saw an opening appear before him. Not stopping to think, he lunged forward, simply desiring to feel his blade touching something other than metal.

Pain exploded in the back of his head, and Isaac found himself flipping forward from the combined forces of his lunge and the blow. The gunner hit the ground hard, and rolled over several times before coming to a rest on his back.

"Reckless, kupo," Lini whispered from where she stood.

"I'm not quite used to fighting ten minutes straight without landing a blow, kupo…"

"Then you've never truly fought, kupo," she snapped. All of a sudden, she was looming over his vision, blocking out the stars. "I'm beginning to wonder why it is that I called you in for this. You can barely hold your blade correctly."

"In case you hadn't noticed, kupo," Isaac said rudely back, "I also carry guns."

"In case _you _hadn't noticed, kupo," she said, her eyes piercing into him, "my mission request called for a 'mogknight' of your skills, not a 'gunner' of your skills."

"Then," Isaac retorted, beginning to feel quite angry, "I think you may have the wrong moogle."

"Oh, I know by now that I have the wrong moogle, kupo," Lini said, leaning forward and picking him up. With no effort whatsoever, she lifted him up so that even his toes couldn't touch the ground.

"In that case, kupo, you may as well drop me off at the next town, kupo," the gunner replied, glaring at her defiantly. He bit back his own bile at having said those words. He had told himself he wasn't going to give up…

"No, I don't think I'll do that, kupo," Lini replied. Isaac noticed something in her eyes, something odd. It was as though she was… reading him. She was looking at his face quite intently in a way that made him somewhat uncomfortable. "You may not be the moogle I wanted for this job, but I think I can make you into that moogle."

With that, she dropped him. Isaac, having not expected this in the least, felt his legs collapse underneath him, and fell down onto his paws and knees. He glared up at her in confusion, and asked, "Kupopo?"

Ignoring his question, the mogknight said simply, "If you can block a single one of my attacks or touch a single strand of fur on my body during our training, you won't have to participate in it for the rest of the mission, kupo. Now, let's go eat some dinner."

Isaac, his chest heaving from exhertion, stared at her as she walked away. Slowly, he got up to his feet, and tested his balance. It wasn't too bad. Slowly, he bent down to pick up his fallen blade with his left arm, and felt pain rocket up the limb. He gasped, and realised he probably shouldn't have been so reckless during that fight. His arm was in pain, everywhere.

Groaning, the moogle picked the blade up with his right paw instead, and walked over to gather his gear. All he could hope for was that Lini would trip or something during their practise one night; otherwise he stood no chance. However, the odds of that actually happening were slim themselves. Sighing, he tossed on his empty bandolier, and made his way back to the camp, moving slowly to avoid the pain.


	49. Short Break

Isaac took his seat by the campfire slowly and quietly. Only five of the six were there so far, Thomas having not yet returned from his patrol. Isaac was in between Montblanc and Carl, and, upon seeing the look on his face, neither one of them chose to ask him anything. He was still quite angry from his practise duel with Lini. He could feel a lump slowly rising on the back of his head, and every time he shook his head it hurt.

Montblanc wordlessly leaned forward to scoop some stew from its pot over the fire into a small wooden bowl for Isaac, then passed it over to him. The gunner nodded his thanks, then sat quietly sipping at it, the fire's light playing across his fur.

Lini was already seated alone on the grass, eating her own stew. She didn't even look up at Isaac as he sat down, too absorbed in her food. Isaac was determined to do the same, so he simply sat in silence.

Thomas's voice came up from behind Isaac, making his ears itch, almost.

"Well, looks like everything around here is as dead as this atmosphere," Thomas announced, walking up. He amicably placed one arm around Montblanc's shoulders, and patted Isaac on his head, directly where the lump was. Isaac choked into his stew, and spilt a bit of the scalding food onto his lap. "Oh, sorry about that, kupo," he said carelessly. "I saw your little fight with Lini there, too, Isaac. Not very impressive. You know, I thi—"

"Mr Thomas," Lini called. All five of the other moogles glanced up to see her glaring at the juggler, the fire's light dancing in her eyes. She went on. "If you intend to say that you could do better, I feel that I could do with some more practise tonight, kupo. If you don't, I would suggest that you sit down, get some food, and cease speaking."

It comforted Isaac in his painful position to feel Thomas stiffen behind him. After a moment of trying to hold his glare against the mogknight's bright eyes, he stood up straight, and walked over to the campfire, grabbing some food for himself. He took a seat next to July, and began eating in a frosty silence.

An awkward quiet reigned around the campfire for a short time. Finally, when it seemed like someone would have to explode under the pressure of the silence, July asked, "Lini, if you do not mind me asking, kupo, could you perchance tell us where it is we are headed?"

"Finally, a rational question, kupo," Lini said approvingly. "Well, if you must know, first we will be going to Baguba Port for one day, to buy any food or supplies we will need. Then, I am afraid that it is unlikely we will be in another town or city for several months, kupo. We will be going directly to Siera Gorge, where I hope to be able to use this."

With that, she reached down to her blade, and drew it out. It, much like her eyes, reflected the light of the fire perfectly, and every now and again Isaac had to shield his eyes to look at it.

"This is the greatest heirloom of my line, kupo," she explained, holding the blade with reverence. "It is known simply as the Materia Blade, and there are only two of its kind in the entire world."

"While it's beautiful and everything," Thomas drawled, "I fail to note the significance, kupo."

Casting him a glare which could have given the juggler a heartattack, she twirled the blade around, tossed it into the air, and caught it upside down by the blade, just below the hilt. She laid the actual blade across both of her hands, carefully so as not to cut them, and showed it to them so that they could see the pommel. It was masterfully crafted, and filled with such incredibly vivid detail that it shocked all of the assembled members. There was an intricate design etched into that point, going into so much detail that it made the onlookers dizzy to glance at it.

"I was glancing through a book written by one of the survivors of the previous missions to find the Avuirs," she explained. "On one page, there was a very detailed drawing of a keyhole in the base of the gorge which had been his company's stopping block. Nobody has ever found the key, until me, kupo."

"So ye're sayin' that th' blade is th' key?" Carl asked.

"Exactly," she confirmed, nodding. "Inside the gorge wall, there should either be one or both of the blades, kupo, or a clue which will lead us closer to the blades."

"And, do we know what else is waiting for us in the mountain, kupo?" Thomas asked.

"No idea, kupo. This blade and its twin have been around for hundreds of years, so somebody else has probably been in there, kupo. However, there aren't any recorded histories."

"Great, kupo," the juggler muttered. "This sounds like it's going to be just a barrel of laughs."

"Thom," Carl said, standing up suddenly and looking over at him. "I'm thinkin' it's time we start trainin', kupo."

"But I'm not done eating, kupo!" Thomas protested.

"Too bad, ye sh'd eat faster, kupo," the gadgeteer shrugged. "Come along, then."

Grumbling, Thomas followed the older juggler out of the camp. As soon as they were gone, Lini asked July, "How many tents are there, kupo?"

"We have three in total, kupo," the animist replied. "Each built for two."

"Alright, kupo, in that case, you and I will share one," she glanced over to Isaac and Montblanc, then went on, "Montblanc, you're with Carl, and Isaac, I want you to share with Thomas."

"Kupopo!" Isaac demanded, glaring at her.

She looked over at him, and her eyes flashed as they had when she'd spoken with Thomas. "Do you have any complaints?"

Much like Thomas, Isaac tried to hold that gaze with her. He was stronger than Thomas, and if he could hold out where Thomas had failed, this would prove it. He stared into those hard, reflective eyes, and denied himself the privellige of looking away. He had to stare at her, had to… to win. It couldn't be that hard…

His eyes lowered, and his teeth gritted against each other. He couldn't see the look on Lini's face, and he realized he didn't want to see it. He wanted to imagine the smug look that was there. He wanted to believe she was thinking to herself how good she was. He needed to believe that.

Slowly, he looked back up at that face, and saw no happiness, no anger, no sadness. They were emotionless.

Isaac put his empty soup bowl down, stood up, and walked very quickly out of the camp.

As soon as he left, Montblanc looked over to Lini pleadingly. Sighing, she told him, "Go."

The mage nodded, then ran after the gunner.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Isaac!"

Isaac barely glanced back to look at the mage, simply shaking his head, and saying, "Go away, kupo."

"Oh, come on, Isaac!" Montblanc yelled ahead to him. He ran up beside him, and slowed down to Isaac's pace, breathing heavily. "What's wrong?"

"I never should have come," he replied simply, shrugging.

"I thought we had gone over this, kupo," Montblanc half-laughed, half-gasped. "So you can't kill a few dozen people at a time! It's not that big of a deal."

"It's not just that I can't, kupo," Isaac replied.

"Then what is it?"

"It's that I _won't_ kill people," he replied. "I'm not the right person for this kind of mission."

"Nobody said that we would be killing anybody, kupo!" Montblanc said, shaking his head. "It's not like we're going to have to assassinate somebody or anything, kupo."

"And how do you know that?" Isaac asked, looking over to him. "How do you know that somebody doesn't already have one of the Avuirs, and if we want to reclaim them, we'll have to kill that person?"

Montblanc opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he said, "I don't…"

"And what would you do in that situation, Montblanc?" Isaac asked, nearly laughing from his bitterness. "Would you be able to kill that person because they did something faster than you, kupo? I'm not like you!"

"Isaac," Montblanc laughed, shaking his head. "That's not the true problem, and we both know it."

"Then what is the problem, kupo?"

"You and Thomas," Montblanc replied easily, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, that does make up a small part of it, kupo…" Isaac admitted.

"I honestly don't understand how it is the two of you don't get along, kupo," the Black mage sighed, shaking his head.

"Could it be because we're polar oppostites?"

"No," Montblanc laughed again. "You're not. You're both just… so stubborn."

"How?" he demanded.

"I talked a bit with Thomas today, and he doesn't seem like that bad of a guy. The two of you seem to just… bring out the worst in each other, kupo."

"Are you kidding?" Isaac demanded, staring at him. "How am I similar in any way to that wanker?"

"The way you talk, kupo," Montblanc offered, and began ticking his list off on his fingers, "your senses of humour, a lot of your nervous habits, the way you're both so defensive about people you care about, you're both so down to earth, you…"

"Are we talking about the same moogle here, kupo?" the gunner asked, incredulous.

"I guess what I'm trying to ask, in the end, is," all of a sudden, Montblanc's eyes became piercing, and he focused his gaze directly on Isaac. "What happened between the two of you?"

Isaac looked on in absolute shock at Montblanc for a second, then his face cycled through several different emotions: fear, sadness, hopelessness, and finally, anger. The gunner said, very clearly, "Shove off and leave me alone, kupo."

"Not until I get an answer."

"Stop acting so high and mighty!" he yelled at the Black mage, finally snapping. "I have no reason to obey you, and you have no right to ask those kinds of questions, kupo. You try to make it seem like you've got everything together and figured out, but you don't! If you did, you would've found something better to do other than just follow Marche around as his personal assistant! At least I've got my life figured out enough that I know where it's going, but you can't say that, and you never will. If you want, you can keep acting as the second in command pet to the great Marche Radiuju, magically killing anybody he asks you to blindl—"

A sudden rush of flames shot out from Montblanc's quivering hands, and knocked Isaac over and back onto his rump. The moogle glanced up in fear at the Black mage, and found him standing over him. Both of his hands were wreathed in flames, and his eyes were even harder than before, slicing straight through Isaac.

"I have only ever killed one man in my entire life, Isaac," the Black mage informed him coolly, "and I used no Black magic for that, kupo. He died with my hands around his neck." The mage stopped suddenly, and took several deep breaths. The flames around his paws slowly died down into nothingness, and then the moogle bent over, and grabbed Isaac by the front of his shirt. His hands were still hot to the touch. "And if you ever call me a murderer because of it, I promise that I won't show any restraint, kupo."

With that, he dropped Isaac, and walked stiffly away.

Isaac stared at the mage's back as he left, and gulped. He considered going after Montblanc, but decided against it. Thez both needed some time to cool off, it seemed. He leaned back instead, and stared at the stars for a short time.

He remained there for probably about half an hour, before finally deciding to go back to the camp and going to sleep. Hopefully, he'd be able to get back and get to sleep before Thomas arrived.

Everybody else in the camp had already retired to their tents from the look of things. One already had a blade hanging by the entrance, so it must have been Lini's, and the other was illuminated from within by a wavering light. Figuring this was Montblanc practising some sort of magic or another, Isaac headed over to the final tent, and ducked in. He glanced about the very basic and simple surroundings, and sighed. Home, for a few months at least. He slung his bag down on one half of the little space, and rummaged around in it until he found his bedroll.

He was just laying his head down to sleep when Thomas ducked in through the entrance. He took one glance at Isaac, and muttered, "Oh crap, kupo."

"Tell me about it," Isaac grumbled back.

Thomas shook his head, and flung himself onto the bare ground, saying, "Fine, you stay on that side, kupo, and if you even touch me during the night, I promise I'll cut off the offending body part."

"Yes, because I'd want to touch you, kupo…" Isaac replied, yawning.

Thomas muttered some sort of reply that Isaac didn't catch, then reached for his knives. He glanced over to Isaac, and asked, "I still need to do my throwing knife training, kupo. I'll be gone for about half an hour."

"Fine by me, kupo. Just don't wake me up when you come back in, or else my blade won't discriminate between body parts."

"Whatever," Thom said, walking back out into the night.

_This adventure,_ Isaac thought to himself, closing his eyes, _keeps getting worse and worse._

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Several days later, the six moogles walked into the city of Baguba Port. Baguba was an interesting city, as it never really seemed to have many outskirts. More or less, there were six or seven smaller houses, and then, you were in the middle of the sprawling, crazy city. Moogles rushing around in all directions, with the occasional viera, human, bangaa, or nu mou towering along in the mass, attempting not to have anything stolen from them or step on any moogles. The streets themselves probably would have been much less conjested, if it weren't for the fact that stalls lined each side of every street, filled with wares from lands exotic and occasionally illegal.

"Alright," Lini said, glancing at each of the members of her team. "If any of you are going to need anything for the next few months, kupo, now is the time to buy it. When we're all done, we'll be meeting at the inn of _the Airborne Traveller_. Any questions?"

There were none, and the six moogles departed, instantly loosing sight of each other in the overly crowded streets.

Isaac limped most of the way, cursing everytime he stepped on his left foot. He had had absolutely no time to speak with Montblanc since the incident. As Lini had promised, they had sparred every night of that incredibly long week, rain or shine. And his body was showing for it. There were bruises covering his ribs and sides, and a nasty cut on his right cheek, from where the edge of Lini's blade had rubbed during a slap with the flat. He unconsciously clenched and unclenched his left paw as he walked, feeling each of the many cramps in muscles he hadn't known he'd possessed before. His wrist hurt everytime he moved it more than about fifteen degrees, from all the reverberations caused by the blade blocks.

Of course, the gunner reflected, a thin grin coming to his face, Thomas wasn't doing too hot, either. Isaac saw the bruises on his body every night when they were getting ready to sleep, and the bags under his eyes from the exhaustion of all the fighting.

In fact, during the two other engagements the six moogles had been involved with during the past week on their way to the port, both gunner and juggler had been more or less useless for the fight. Isaac and Thomas had both found themselves incapable of using their greatest assets, guns and throwing knives, due to all of the exhaustion and aches. Thus, even in real combat, they had to resort to their melee fighting.

Of course, Lini would not allow either of them to be excused from these engagements. Oh, no, never. Even though, as Isaac and Thomas, and even one or two of the others had pointed out, the other four moogles were far more than enough for most battles. The two had to battle in reality for their skills to improve.

Isaac paused by a stall laden with bandoliers, holsters, and guns, to barter with the owner over the price of three belts of pistol ammunition. He wasn't quite sure about how fit he would be to use a gun for the next few months, but he figured he may as well keep some at hand just in case. It was better to have it and never use it than to need it and not have it. That was one thing he had certainly learned in Ivalice.

The moogle standing behind the stall finally agreed to Isaac's price, which he figured was still excessively high, and handed over the belts. Isaac thanked him, and kept walking. Occasionally, he would take a glance skyward, to watch as airships flew by overhead. There were constantly airships in the skies of Baguba, what with it being the largest port on the continent. Dozens of impossibly tall towers, sustained by magic, dotted the city, providing docks for any smaller schooners and pleasure vessels. The larger, heavier freighters and battleships docked at the main dock in the centre of the city. Back during his time on _the Torrent_, one of Isaac's favourite passtimes while docked was to go over to the central dock and simply watch all of the chaos going on around him. The constant sound of voices, whistles blowing and machinery tinking calmed him, somehow.

Glancing towards the sun, Isaac decided he may as well go to the _Airborne Traveller_. He may as well check the rumours and find out what was going on in the world.

When the gunner had finally managed to wind his way through the thick crowds and push into the popular inn, he made a beeline over to the bar. There, he waited patiently until the barmaid, a moogle who couldn't be older than fourteen, found her way over to him.

"What kin I getcha, kupo?" she asked.

"One flagon of ale, kupo." It was the unwritten laws of pubs: when seeking information, always order a flagon, first. When the frothy drink finally came, and the barmaid asked if Isaac needed anything else, he replied, "Nothing right now, kupo. But, I was wondering if you've heard any rumours, lately?"

"Sorry, hun," she said sweetly, "Gotta be more specific 'an that."

"Well, kupo…" Isaac searched his memory for any details the others had given him about their journeys. The picking was slim for Eileen and Maxwell, but Jacqueline and Ben… "How about the Cadoan Colour Tournament, kupo?"

"Ah, well, then," she replied, leaning in and speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. "It's lookin' up tuh be a mighty fine show this yea-uh, kupo. Only thing is, kupo, neithuh of last yea-uh's champions is signed up."

Isaac choked into his drink for a few moments, before glancing over to her sharply. "You mean that the Scarlet Rapier and the Blue Ninja aren't competing, kupo?"

"Why, no, sugah," she replied, shrugging. "Nevuh showed up, kupo."

"Right…" Isaac muttered. "Thanks, kupo."

With that, he pushed his way through the crowds again, sheltering his drink. He tried glancing around for any sign of his companions, but there were too many moogles for him to see. Finally, sighing in annoyance, he walked over to one table, and asked the bangaa seated there, "Would you mind if I used your table for a second, kupo?"

"Go right ahead," she replied, understanding his meaning and moving her food out of the way.

Isaac nodded his thanks, then flapped up onto the tabletop. Glancing around, he scanned all of the faces, until he saw a familiar flash of green eyes from a white furred moogle in the corner, nursing a mug of what appeared to be water. He hopped down, thanked the bangaa again, and made his way over to the table at which July was seated.

"Hello," he greeted, trying to act polite.

"Hello," she replied, barely glancing at him. "You are already done, kupo?"

"What can I say?" he shrugged. "I know this city, kupo."

"Apparently."

"Would you mind if I were to just take a quick nap, kupo?" Isaac asked, sitting down and trying to get comfortable.

"In here?" she asked incredulously, glancing around at the people all over the place.

"In here," Isaac confirmed, nodding.

"Be my guest, kupo," she said, taking a sip from her water.

Isaac nodded, then leaned back and closed his eyes. Slowly, he began relaxing his thoughts, and then delved down into that one section of the depths of his brain where he kept all of his memories of St Ivalice stored away. He began constructing a mental image of the boy who had been his friend since he was seven years old. The light blue eyes, the pony tail, the smell of animals, that constant, slightly challenging look in his eyes, the confident stride. He had never met another person who was quite as sure of himself as Ben was. Some might say that it was bordering along the side of cockiness or arrogance, but that was just a front he put up to his rivals. Ben was one of the people who Isaac both competed with, and trusted, the most in his life. The entity of the blue mage truly suited him, in many ways. Isaac could not imagine him as anythi—

Isaac's breath caught in his throat, and beneath his eyelids, his eyes halted their movement.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

_He ran along the ancient treetop paths, never breaking a stride, and never hesitating. He had learned all of these old ways in his earliest times. This was where he was meant to be. This was the place he would protect with his life. The forest had given him his true powers, and now, it appeared as though it was high time that he pay back that debt. There was far too much at stake for him to fail here. He would simply have to keep working at this until he succeeded, until there was no chance of a threat ever returning. Then, he would go after her, and try to find her. There was no way that that little skirmish could have stopped her. She was definitely still out there, somewhere. Probably winning that tournament without him. Either way, she was there. He could sense her, almost touch—_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………...

Isaac's eyes shot open, and he took in several deep breaths, almost as though he had just held his breath for a minute straight. Once or twice he coughed, and he became dimly aware that somebody was pounding him on his back. When he finally came in control of his body again, he looked over, to see July staring at him in concern.

"Thanks," he said, nodding shakily to her and reaching for his ale.

"What was that?" she demanded. Though Isaac wasn't looking at her, he could hear the worry in her voice.

"Nothing, kupo," Isaac replied, taking a very uneven sip. "Just my own 'special power'."

"It seems quite dangerous, kupo," she said seriously. "You should be careful with that."

"Trust me, I know," the gunner muttered, shuddering. "Have any of the others shown up yet, kupo?"

"Montblanc has," she confirmed, returning to her seat, and keeping a watchful eye on him. "He is purchasing a drink."

"Alright," Isaac nodded, carefully taking another sip.

"Are you sure that you are fine, kupo?" July asked one last time.

"Positive."

Montblanc soon returned to the table, and after him, it was not long until Thomas and then Lini arrived. Finally, after the others had already finished eating a light supper, Carl arrived, informing them that he had already dined at his workshop. With that confirmation, Lini announced that they would be leaving immediately. Nobody argued, so they left without further discussion, nobody noticing the six less moogles in the city of crowds and airships.


	50. Gaol's Heir?

"Tell me about your past, Isaac," Lini said casually, while she smashed the flat of her blade into the small of his back.

It was around a week after the six moogles had left Baguba port. Isaac and Lini had, as the mogknight promised, sparred every single night. Quite often, the two would quite simply remain quiet during this time, aside from when Lini instructed that they would switch roles from attack to defence. Thus, this small statement caught him off-guard.

Currently laying with his stinging back on the hard, rocky terrain, Isaac muttered, "Why do you want to know, kupo?"

"I like to get to know all of my party-members a bit better than most people, kupo," Lini explained, tapping her foot impatiently. "And don't think that you can use this as an excuse to quit attacking."

Sighing, Isaac stood back up, and pressed the attack. Between his pants, the gunner began speaking. "Well, there's not terribly much to tell, kupo."

"Then tell me what there is," Lini requested, not even breaking a sweat as she parried blow after blow. "I already know about everything since you started working with that airship captain from my own information, but anything before then seems to be strangely lacking." Isaac nodded, only slightly creeped out by the amount of information she'd already amassed, and began speaking. He and his four friends had long since made up their back stories in this world, and thought through them enough to make them believable. "I was born on a relatively small country across the sea. There was always lots of conflict, kupo, and one time, my friends' and my own parents decided to send us off to Ivalice to protect us. We were on the airship over, when it got attacked by pirates. There was a lot of chaos, kupo, and the five of us got separated. I got captured by the pirates, and worked on their ships for a few years as a slave. Then, during one battle, I got knocked off the edge of the ship. I got caught by the crew of Captain Rolf Tink of _the Torrent_, kupo, and worked there for a while. I landed pretty hard when I fell, so I've still got quite a bit of amnesia."

Lini considered this for a moment, parrying each of his blows without the slightest difficulty. Finally, she declared, "You're lying, kupo."

Isaac's breath caught in his breath in surprise, and he stumbled forward in what was supposed to be a thrust. Lini casually sidestepped him, and laid the edge of her blade along the back of his neck as he hit the ground.

"You're lying," she repeated.

"Why do you say that, kupo?" he demanded, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"If your reaction hadn't been a perfect indicator beforehand, kupo," she muttered, "I'd say that it was the complete lack of emotion with which you talked about the pirate attack."

"It was a long time ago," Isaac replied, though he knew his cover was blown. "I don't remember much from my amnesia, kupo…"

"That kind of an event would still terrify you to this day, kupo," Lini stated. She sighed, then reached down and picked him up off the ground. Replacing him on his feet, she continued. "Nobody forgets that sort of thing, no matter how bad your 'amnesia' is."

"What would you know of it, kupo?"

"Nothing. But if you want, you could ask your friend Montblanc about it," she informed him, at the same time gesturing that he should press the attack again. Metal began ringing out in the summer twilight, echoing off the rocks around them. "Now, why is it that you won't tell me about your past, kupo?"

"Why do you want to know so badly?" Isaac demanded.

"Because there are only two reasons why somebody would hide their past so well that even I couldn't discover it, kupo: Firstly, that it is so painful, you wish to no longer be reminded of it. In this case, it could become a hindrance in this quest. Or, there is the possibility that your past is veiled in darkness, kupo, and you have committed indescribable atrocities which you wish to cover up. Then, kupo, I would have to question whether you should be on this team."

Isaac laughed slightly, even though his blade had just been solidly blocked again. "Neither of the above, kupo. My past is just a bit… complicated."

"Explain it to me," she requested.

"Honestly, I just can't. You wouldn't get it, kupo."

Suddenly, Isaac felt Lini block his blade, then give a slight twist with her own weapon. His blade flew up out of his hands, and the familiar flat side of Lini's blade smashed into his face. Isaac hit the ground several metres away just as the mogknight caught his blade from its fall.

"In that case," she muttered, "tell me about your friends."

That was easy. Isaac began speaking, telling her about his relationships with each of his friends. He put special effort into describing how powerful they were, wanting, for some reason, to impress her. However, she simply remained impassive throughout his descriptions, dodging and blocking with a reflective look on her face.

When he was finally done, Lini didn't even have to wait, before she produced her next question: "So how does Thomas factor into this, kupo?"

"That…" he muttered, "is even more complicated than explaining my past, kupo."

"Try."

Realising that he would never be able to avoid her, Isaac finally asked her, "If I tell you a little bit about me and Thomas, will you not ask me about it again?"

Lini considered, and finally consented, nodding her head slightly.

"Alright," Isaac sighed, shaking his head. "Thomas and I are, in our interests at least, kupo, complete opposites. I've always spent as much of my time around machines, and trying to get along with my friends. Thomas is just so… smart, kupo. Faster than me, too. But he's never really made many friends. He just… doesn't get it, kupo."

"And yet," Lini remarked, sidestepping him again, "the two of you are quite similar in your mannerisms."

"I guess that that's true, kupo," Isaac muttered. The two of them had definitely been the most reckless students in their classes at school. Always trying new things. But that didn't make things easier between them. No, it always set the two of them against each other all the more. Made them competitors.

A blow to his ribs shocked Isaac out of his reverie, as he went over backwards. He landed hard, and spent several moments gasping to fill his lungs. Eventually, Lini's slightly blurry face appeared in front of his vision, and her voice called out to him.

"That's enough for today, kupo. Go and get some rest. We should be reaching the first stop on our journey tomorrow."

With that, she left. Isaac listened from his position on the ground while her footsteps receded. Finally, he pushed himself up and off of the ground, coughing several times from the exertion. When he was finally on his feet, Isaac staggered slowly back towards their campsite. He could dimly see the light of the dying campfire before him, glittering off of the mountainous terrain. They could see the great expanses of the Siena Gorge, and all through the day, they could see the slight, soft yellow glow of amber.

Approaching, Isaac noticed somebody sitting by the fire. Deciding that he didn't quite want to go to sleep yet, he started heading towards the smoky remains of the fire, and away from the small ring of three tents. Eventually, the slightly bent form of Carl came into view in the fire's light, small rings of smoke leaving his lips. Isaac picked up the view of a small pipe in his hands, etched and notched.

"How's th' trainin'?" the gadgeteer asked as he sat down.

"It could be going a lot better, kupo," Isaac supplied, pulling off his fingerless gloves and exposing his hands to the heat.

"Cold, kupo?"

"My hands always get a bit cold after a lot of fighting," Isaac explained, shrugging. "Worse when I'm using my blade than my gun, kupo."

"Fightin' wit' Lini's 'nough teh make anyone's blood run cold, kupo," Carl laughed, shaking his head. "I shud know."

Glancing at him in curiosity, Isaac asked, "Since when have you been smoking, kupo?"

"Few weeks?" he shrugged, and to accentuate the point, began hacking and wheezing.

"Only a few weeks, kupo?" the gunner demanded. "And you can already blow smoke rings?" "Wha' kin I say?" he shrugged, taking another puff. "Me father showed me how when I was a kid, kupo. He said, 'I ain't got much more teh live fer, so I'll enjoy what I got left!'" He shook his head, and let the smoke slowly sneak by his lips. "I fin'ly 'nderstand what 'e said."

"You understand it, kupo?" Isaac said, continuing his work as an echo to the older moogle. "I don't think that I'll ever understand that."

"You will, kupo," Carl promised. "Righ' now, yeh're still pure. Don' gemme wrong. Yeh're better'n more pure than most. But wait a few years, kupo, 'till yeh've felt some loss." He sighed, and overturned his pipe. The cherry-red lined wad of tobacco fell out to the ground, where his foot stamped its life away. "Keep yer friends close, Isaac," he counselled.

"And my enemies, kupo?" Isaac asked, figuring that that would be coming next.

Carl was silent to that question. Then, he finally went on, whispering, "Two options with 'em. One, make sure they ain't yer enemies any more. An' then there's option two, kupo."

"Which is?"

"Kill 'em," Carl said, giving him a piercing look. "Kupopo?" Isaac demanded, overbalancing backwards slightly. He pin wheeled his arms to keep balance, and leaned back forward to listen. "If they're still 'live," Carl muttered, staring into the fire, now no more than embers, "they kin still hurt you, 'n' hurt yer friends."

Isaac wanted to say something. He really did. However, his mouth wouldn't move from its place, dropped open.

"I'm tired," Carl announced. "I'm headin' teh bed. G'night."

The gunner didn't move in the slightest while the gadgeteer walked away, simply staring at the dying embers. He shuddered once, not from the cold, and pulled his gloves back on. Deciding to call it a night, he headed back to the tent.

Stepping through the flap, Isaac's eyes just barely made out the sleeping form of Thomas, lying next to his own bedroll. A vision flashed across Isaac's mind for a moment, one of Rolf falling to the deck, a knife in his back.

"They can still hurt you, and hurt your friends…" he whispered.

Thomas was helpless, lying there unconscious, and his blade was lying so invitingly on his hip. Isaac himself didn't realise that he was reaching for it until he felt the cold touch of metal on his fingers. He stared down at the offending digits.

Then, before he could rethink the decision, his fingers worked at the clasp of his belt. He pulled the thing off, with his blade attached, and tossed it unceremoniously out of the tent. Shaking, he threw himself into his bedroll, and turned his head away from the juggler's form.

Closing his eyes, he tried as hard as he could to not think about that blade, lying on the cold earth outside.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

When the six moogles awoke, they prepared a cold breakfast, and then set off. Despite their differences, the experienced adventurers had learned how to adapt to each other's abilities and movement patterns, making the setting up and taking down of camps a very quick and simple procedure. Everybody dealt with their own tents, and then Isaac and Carl would gather up cooking equipment while Lini and Thomas destroyed the tracks of their existences. Montblanc would feel through his magical connections with the elements all of the weather about them, and July prepared their rations for the day. In the evenings, Montblanc and Carl would handle the cooking, each one proving to be surprisingly good at it. Isaac and Lini normally set up the tents, both being slightly more physically strong the others. Thomas did scouting and occasional hunting, and July tended to the fire.

The dawn that day was slightly more brilliant than usual, the sunlight being helped along by the glow of amber coming from the Siena Gorge. They were travelling in their normal procession, Isaac bringing up the rear. Despite the fact that they had barely run into anybody during their few weeks together, both Isaac and July kept up constant vigilance. If Lini suspected otherwise, the two of them shuddered to think what would happen. Probably something involving a new fur coat.

At about noon, the six reached the edge of the gorge, and made the descent. Fortunately, a zigzagging path had long ago been carved into the rock, leading down deeper and deeper into the canyon. General rumour and folk-lore said that it was orginally formed by the five Totema during their searches for the Gods. As amber was a well-known holder of ancient power and energies, it was assumed that there would be some clue hidden with the massive stores of the substance found within the gorge… _Whoa,_ Isaac thought suddenly, shaking his head. _Where did all of that come from!?_ He had definitely not known that a moment ago. It was just as he was stepping down into this deep canyon that the knowledge had flowed back to him from some unknown source.

"Thomas, yeh doing alrigh'?" asked a voice ahead.

Isaac glanced up, and saw that Thomas had suddenly stopped walking, shaking his head hard. Carl was staring at him in concern, but the juggler quickly stood up straight again, and declared, "I'm fine. Just a headache, kupo." _He probably just went through the same thing I did… _Isaac thought, a certain melancholy accompanying the realisation. They were both in the same situation in this world. Both were constantly remembering things they had never known without warning.

Without more discussion, the six continued walking along.

The hard terrain was slightly hilly, but otherwise, quite plain. Very sparse vegitation dotted the area; no more than tiny bushes and shrubs could grow in such irregular sunlight. Good enough cover, if it came to a fight. Not quite as much as Isaac would have liked, but enough.

Isaac stiffened, one of his ears twitching. Not even stopping to consider, he whispered, "July?"

Without breaking stride, the animist's voice drifted quietly back to him. "Where, kupo?"

"Back left."

The six went on for a few more moments, before July replied, "I hear it. And one directly to the right, kupo."

"You all know the signal," Lini whispered, taking control. "Montblanc, kupo, you're in the middle. Carl, cover July. Isaac and Thomas, stay on opposite sides and cover rangers, kupo."

All the moogles' paws slowly went to hilts or handles. Carl tightened a fist, the action causing blades to grow from his gloves. Montblanc's voice was barely audible, whispering something.

Metal scraped off of a sheath, and a judgepoint disintegrated. Weapons came out on all sides, and the moogles quickly pulled themselves into a circle around Montblanc. Lini's voice called out, hard and clear.

"Whoever you are out there! Show yourselves now, kupo, or suffer the wrath of Lini the Mogknight!"

There was a moment of silence. Both Isaac and Thomas knew what it meant, and within a moment, both sent off several missiles to knock arrows from the sky. Isaac heard the juggler behind him drawing a melee knife, and a few quick steps. Probably picking off a few closer attacks.

There were several more moments of silence after this, when finally, a voice replied to Lini's challenge. It was low, masculine, and confident.

"Well, 'Lini the Mogknight'," the voice said mockingly, and Isaac heard Lini mutter a few dirty words under her breath. "If we have offended you, we apologize. Show yourselves, boys!"

From the rocky protrusions appeared about a dozen clanners. All of them were obviously skilled and experienced, from both their equipment and the condition of their bodies. Scars adorned every figure, some so dramatically that they looked no more than a bunch of stiches held together by occasional bits of clear skin.

The leader himself was very obvious. A young man with well cared for brown hair, and two blades strapped to his back. The weapons showed Isaac that he was a fighter by class, and the very large muscles that he was good. A certain bounce about his gait gave the gunner the impression that this man could simply spring into violent action at any moment.

"Eric…" Lini hissed under her breath.

"Kupopo?" Isaac asked, surprised to see such a violent reaction from the normally cool-headed moogle.

"Good to know that you haven't forgotten about me," the young man called back. He looked and sounded to be around twenty or older.

"I had hoped that we wouldn't be meeting, kupo," Lini called back.

"Now that was quite rude!" he replied, pretending to be offended. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Eric, why are you here, kupo?"

"A little birdy told me that you were going after the Avuirs, Lini," he called back, a grin crossing his face. "Now, you weren't thinking about going after them without me, were you?"

"Do you still believe that you have a right to those blades, kupo?" she demanded, tilting her head slightly.

"Of course. More right than you, certainly," he shrugged. "The blades were originally wielded by Gaol…"

"Oh please, kupo," Carl whispered from Lini's other side. "Does 'e still b'lieve he's th' d'scendant oh Gaol?"

"Apparently," Lini replied, gritting her teeth with annoyance. "It does nothing to improve his ego, either, kupo."

"Oh, Carl's here too, then?" Eric called across to them. "What a surprise. Especially after…"

"Please lemme kill 'im?" Carl requested, loud enough for the entire assembled audience to hear.

"Be my guest, kupo," Lini muttered, and both of the moogles lunged forward from their places.

Their trained opponents closed in at them, probably five at once. Metal began ringing out, and then the four moogles still in formation couldn't watch anymore, forced instead to look over at the six fighters coming at them. The sound of metal on metal was heard again, as Isaac's blade and Thomas's daggers parried blows. Isaac, his opponent a short human wielding a sword, pulled his blade back out of the counter, and brought it around in an attempt to knock the weapon out of his way. The human, however, was no novice. He simply pulled his sword quickly out of the way of the blow, throwing Isaac off balance from the force of his own swing. The human raised his sword above his head in preparation for a finishing swing.

Something hit Isaac's legs, and he felt them fly out from underneath him. As he fell, he caught a glance of July stepping forward to fill his place. She ducked easily under the soldier's swing, and then raised her violin to the crutch in her neck. The bow touched to the string, and she began playing. The pace was incredibly fast and frantic, bouncing from high to low notes in quick succession. Strangely, however, Isaac felt that he could barely hear it. It seemed to be coming from far away.

The soldier seemed to hear it perfectly fine, though. At the first couple notes, he had looked simply confused. Now, however, an expression of increasing panic was taking over his face, and he tried in vain to clamp his hands over his ears. An instant later, a puff of green smoke covered his form. When the smoke cleared, all that remained of the warrior was a small frog, staring up at the now towering moogle animist.

"Run, kupo," she ordered, and the frog hopped hurriedly away in compliance.

She turned away from it, just in time to catch a fist in her face. She fell back, clutching at her bloodied nose in surprise.

The tall bangaa who had delivered the blow advanced quickly upon her, placing his free hand back upon his broadsword's hilt. He drew the sword back for a swing, but at the last moment, he twirled out of the way.

This move saved him from Isaac's low blade swing. The moogle had gotten up, and was ready to fight again. He pressed his advantage on the retreating bangaa, throwing two quick swings at him. His aim wasn't quite to hit him, but simply to keep him on the run.

The bangaa surprised him by blocking the second slash, and then using his tremendous strength to push his weapon out of the way. He then threw a foot out, taking the risk of going off-balance for a chance to knock Isaac out of the fight.

It worked. The foot smashed into his chest, and threw him perhaps two metres to land heavily on his upper back and shoulders.

July tried to set her bow back to the violin, but before she could, the bangaa had reached her, and cloven her in half with his massive sword.

"Bugger!" Isaac cursed, getting back up. The bangaa glanced back over to him, and lunged forward at him again.

He stopped suddenly as a bullet hit him in the snout, freezing him in position. Isaac rushed forward, and prepared to stab the bangaa in the chest.

Just as the blade was about to scrape the skin, the bangaa's forehead flew forward and smashed into Isaac's. The moogle called out and fell back, realising that he'd been duped. The bangaa hadn't actually taken the effect of the stopshot: he had simply acted like it to get the gunner's defences down. Isaac picked himself up painfully, only just managing to reach his feet when the flying form of Thomas landed before him. The juggler coughed once, and stood up slowly, shaking his head to stave off the pain. "We just lost Montblanc, kupo," he announced, wheezing a bit. "And July," Isaac replied, gazing up at the remaining warriors. There were four of the original six; one was hiding in frog shape somewhere nearby, and one had both legs encased in ice and a few knives sprouting from his chest.

Isaac and Thomas began backing up from the four warriors slowly, keeping in stride with each other and watching for an attack. At one point, Thomas suddenly flicked a wrist, throwing a knife at the warriors. A viera fencer easily batted it away with her shield, and they continued their progress.

Overall, it was looking quite dismal for the two, before the attention of all six remaining combatants was drawn over to the right, where Carl and Lini had charged earlier.

Lini was nowhere to be seen. Her handiwork, however, was evident. The five combatants who had originally charged her all lay on the ground, each with a single, gaping wound somewhere on their bodies. Not a one was breathing. What had drawn their attentions, however, was not the mogknight. It was in fact Carl, who was currently fully engaged with Eric. His fists were tightly clenched, bringing the twelve inch blades fully out of his knuckles. They were each clanging hard in attacks and parries with Eric's two blades, which pinged off again and again in quick succession while Eric pulled a complicated spinning manoeuvre. Every time the two blades were blocked by the knuckles, sparks would fly from the contact.

Carl's hands were a blur, and they could see the strain on his face at maintaining such a difficult and heavy series of blocks. His wiry muscles bulged with exertion, and they could tell that if he didn't mount an attack soon, he would fall to exhaustion. Suddenly, without any of the onlookers realising it, Carl's attack came. As Eric's right hand blade swung down in the arcing twirl, Carl's right knuckle flew forward to stop its momentum momentarily. Then, his left knuckle came down, smashing into the top of the blade. Using this grip with his left fist as a pivot, he threw himself up, and over the second blade which came twirling in at him. He extended a foot out perfectly into a kick, and flew in towards Eric's face.

The fighter, working on pure instinct, threw his head back and out of the way, then bent himself backwards. Carl went flying by harmlessly high, and then swept across after the moogle with the right-hand blade.

Remarkably, his blade arm was faster than Carl's momentum, and the blade pierced into the moogle from behind, ripping out through the other side. Carl's momentum wrenched his body off of the blade without Eric even having to do anything, and he hit the ground with a sickening crunch noise.

"So," Eric muttered, turning casually to the two remaining moogles, who were still backing up from the four opponents before them. "Where has your little leader gotten to?"

"Eric!" a voice called, and all seven of them turned to find its source.

Lini was standing by the wall of the canyon, holding her blade easily in her right hand. It was still dripping with the blood of the five warriors she had downed, leaving a small red puddle by her feet.

"I propose a change of rules, kupo," she offered.

"Oh yes?" Eric laughed. "And what would those rules be?"

Without stopping to explain, Lini turned and slammed the hilt of her blade into the rock. It sunk in several inches, and then the mogknight wrenched it clockwise.

A small crack appeared in the stone and amber wall, and it began growing. The thing twined along, eventually turning into a perfect circle reaching down to the ground. As soon as the outline was done, Lini shoved at it, and it fell inward with a deafening crash. She turned back to Eric, and proclaimed, "Inside this cave is either an Avuir, or the key to finding the next Avuir, kupo. I say we change the rules of the engagement to read, 'First to the target' as winning terms." She pulled her blade out of the rock, and twirled it around until it pointed at the fighter. "Do you accept?"

Eric remained quiet for a moment as he pondered this offer. Then, he inquired, "We aren't bringing back anybody who's already gone down?"

"No."

"Fine, then," he agreed, twirling his right hand blade around to point at Lini, then he directed a tiny nod to the judge. The two warriors glared at each other for a moment, their subordinates watching on. Finally, after what seemed like ages, the judge's whistle blew. "The rules have officially changed! You may begin _now_!" 


	51. The Bottomless Stair

"Isaac, Thomas!" Lini's voice commanded sharply. "Here, now, kupo!"

Neither moogle hesitated, breaking into an all-out dash towards the mogknight and the giant crack in the wall. The other four warriors, slightly surprised, stood for a moment before breaking out after them. Both Isaac and Thomas, though, knew that their pursuers were too late: they would reach the hole without any trouble.

This was what they thought, up until the point went Eric cut them off.

"Not so easy as that," he said, shaking his head in a displeased manner.

Isaac raised his blade, and Thomas his knives. Each one leapt perfectly in time with the other a few paces from their opponent, assuming that he wouldn't be able to counter both of them at such speeds.

Isaac's blade, in a diagonal slash, was stopped completely by the fighter's right-hand blade. In several movements which Isaac's eyes didn't even register, Eric rung three sharp raps off of the blade's flat. Before his paw knew it had happened, Isaac's blade had flown about ten metres away.

At the same time, Thomas lunged forward with one knife to block Eric's left-hand thrust, and with the other he tried to reach in and cut the fighter's neck. Eric's blade blew right through the block, driving the knife into the solid rock below up to the hilt, and then used the pommel to punch the other knife out of Thomas's paw.

Then, the fighter tossed both blades lightly into the air. Before either moogle could hit him or fly past, his hands shot out and grabbed each one by the front of the shirt, and threw them to the ground at his feet.

Both landed hard, unarmed.

Eric, not even having to change his hands' positions, caught both blades on their downward descents.

Isaac and Thomas stared up at Eric, completely at his mercy, as the two blades swung down at them. Both closed their eyes, and turned away.

Metal rang out incredibly loudly, but neither moogle felt the blades biting into them. They opened their eyes and looked back towards the fighter. Standing before him was Lini, her gauntlet holding both blades easily at bay.

"Get the blade!" Lini yelled at both of the moogles, still laying on the rocks just behind her, and then she swept her blade out in front of her. Metal began ringing out painfully fast, and both Isaac and Thomas took this as their cue to leave.

They hopped up, and ran around the two engaged fighters. Both could hear the pursuers directly behind them, and knew that they'd have to go fast.

"Isaac, kupo," Thomas called over to him. "I'll hold them at the entrance! You go in and get the blade!"

"Are you kidding, kupo?" Isaac demanded. "We'll stand a better chance in there with both of us!"

"Bu—"

"Just follow my lead, kupo!" Isaac yelled, and then reached over, giving Thomas a slight push to accelerate him.

Thomas reached the entrance just before Isaac, and jumped through with a glance over his shoulder at the gunner.

Isaac, however, didn't even see it: he was already twirling around, his bare paws going down to his belts. They drew out the two six-shots, and each paw pulled a trigger twice.

Suddenly, their four pursuers stopped dead in their movements, simply staring ahead at their quarry in mid-stride.

Isaac shoved the two guns back into their holsters, and sighed, turning back to Thomas.

"Let's go, kupo," he said, nodding to the juggler.

The juggler nodded back, and they took a quick look around their surroundings. It appeared to be simply a long hallway, leading off towards some sort of large space which radiated a yellow light. The two moogles slowly approached each other for safety, and began making their ways towards the large room before them.

Neither knew what to expect. Neither had the slightest bit of expectation.

What they found, however, was beyond their imaginations.

The room, which they had assumed would be some kind of giant hall or something else of the sort, had no floor. Instead, a lip jutted out, and wound around and down from the room in a staircase. This staircase appeared to go on forever, as far as their eyes could make out, for miles and miles, simply winding away downwards into the mists far below.

Now this, on its own, would have been incredible enough. However, what enhanced the effect was the fact that the entire structure was carved directly into the amber which made the Siena Gorge famous. There were simply miles upon miles of the translucent yellow substance. Each step was perfectly worked, winding down slowly in even strides; not the work of some amateur.

Neither Isaac or Thomas said anything for a good while. They were both too busy staring down into the abyss below them. Finally, Thomas muttered, "What's that, kupo?"

Isaac glanced over, and saw that the juggler was staring straight ahead. He followed his gaze, and saw that there was an inscription carved into the wall. Isaac found it strange, for it was quite familiar. It took him a few seconds to realize the script was the exact same as that used on the warning outside of jagd Ahli. The inscription read,

_Only those who truly exist on nothing more than their wits shall survive this test. Danger you shall face. You must have already faced danger arriving here; the danger here, however, is of a different manner. Be prepared for a great challenge. Your courage and your daring shall serve you better than your sword._

"We should get going," Isaac whispered after several seconds of silence. "My stopshots won't hold them forever, kupo."

"Right, kupo," Thomas replied. Both of them turned to the steps, and began the long descent downwards.

They had barely gone more than a few metres when both stopped abruptly, staring ahead. Before them, lying broken on the stairs, was a clearly nu mou skull. It was cracked and broken from extreme age, and absolutely dry; it had been there an incredibly long time.

"Didn't Lini say that we would be the first people to ever enter this place, kupo?" Thomas asked, a slight tremor in his voice.

"Well, to be fair, kupo," Isaac replied, staring at the ancient skull before them, "she can only account for her own blade, kupo. She said herself that it had a twin. Not to mention, she's only had the blade for at most twenty or so years. Before then, anything could have happened. Like maybe—"

"Right," Thomas interrupted, all business again, "while this is all fascinating, I'm still concerned with why there's a skull there."

"Good call, kupo," Isaac admitted, and the two slowly advanced on the thing.

When they reached it, Isaac bent over slowly to look it over. He reached forward and picked it gingerly up, feeling it, and staring at the shape. Odd. The nu mou skull—

"DOWN!" Thomas roared, and Isaac felt a paw roughly shoving him forward onto his stomach.

Isaac instantly rolled over to see what was going on, just in time to catch Thomas, throwing himself sideways and backwards, reaching out to grab one of his own throwing knives from the air, as an arrow whizzed by him. His paw closed around the hilt, and he held the weapon out in front of himself to block the next arrow. Then, seeing the source of the attacks, he tossed the knife back up into the air for a moment. Just long enough for it to go upside down.

Then, he caught it by the blade, and whipped it at a small crevice in the wall.

There was a terrible, scratching mechanical noise. Then, black smoke began leaking from the crack. Thomas heaved a sigh of relief, and sagged his shoulders forward.

Isaac, however, who had worked around machines far more than the juggler, quickly grabbed his leg and pulled him down onto the ground as well. The gunner had just enough time to cover his ears, before the trap machine, or whatever it had been, exploded in a brilliant show of flames and shrapnel.

They were quiet for a moment as both moogles lay there, chests heaving on the ground. The shear amounts of adrenaline roaring through them had each one frozen, aside from their occasional shudders.

At last, Isaac cleared his throat, and then managed to croak out, "Thanks for that."

"You too, kupo," Thomas replied, slowly pushing himself back up. As Isaac did the same, the juggler glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head. "That's maybe ten metres, kupo. And how far down does this thing go?"

"Infinitely, kupo," Isaac muttered, brushing himself off. He glanced over to his partner, and suddenly broke out laughing.

"Kupopo?" Thomas demanded, confused.

"I _cannot _think of anybody else who I'd hate being here with more, kupo," Isaac laughed, bending over slightly.

Grinning back, Thomas told him, "Same here, kupo. Same here."

The two of them began moving forward again, more cautiously this time. Their steps were measured and in time with each other, neither wanting to be caught alone in the next trap. They went on, not meeting anything for quite a while.

Suddenly, Thomas stopped moving. Isaac went on for another two steps before he realised it, and turned back to the juggler.

"What's wrong, kupo?"

"Get back," he whispered.

"Kupopo?"

"Back up, and get your flipping gun ready, kupo!" he snapped urgently.

Isaac nodded, and took several steps back from the juggler's position. After a moment, he asked, "Far enough, kupo?"

"Yes," Thomas exhaled, and then whispered, barely loud enough for even Isaac to hear, "Famfrit give me strength."

With that, the muscles in his legs all snapped all of their tension, and he lifted up into the air. As soon as his foot left the ground, there was a clicking noise, and dozens of spikes shot up out of the ground several feet. Isaac's heart caught in his throat as he watched the juggler rising above the metal teeth. He flew in one perfect arc, a backflip with well practised trajectory. He landed lightly on his toes, pin wheeling his arms violently to keep from falling forward onto the metal forest.

Without hesitation, Isaac grabbed the back of the juggler's shirt, and pulled. Thomas fell back with a slight yelp, and they hit the ground, chests heaving again.

"Dammit…" Thomas hissed, pushing himself back up.

"What was that, kupo?"

"Pressure plate," he explained, watching the spikes slowly pulling back into the ground. "I figured that seeing as it hadn't killed me instantly when I stepped on it, that it would trigger after I took my foot off. So…" He shrugged.

"Oh Famfrit," Isaac muttered, then sighed in annoyance. "We might as well get going then, seeing as we know where _not _to step, kupo."

They continued going, now paying more attention to the ground around their feet. Their steps were slow, and well placed to avoid any suspicious areas. The constant glow of amber helped them to see the floor, basking everything in a deep yellow.

At one point, Isaac thought he felt a gust, and glanced up. Abruptly, he reached over to grab Thomas and stop him.

"What, kupo?"

Isaac pointed up ahead, and it was all the answer that Thom needed.

Before them was what could only be described as a gauntlet. Dozens of blades hung on long, iron poles from the ceiling, and each of these poles was swinging back and forth like a pendulum. The section blocked off in such a way lasted about ten metres, with each pole situated no more than ten centimetres away from each other.

Isaac and Thomas stared, completely dumbfounded by the task before them. After a while, Isaac ventured, "Do you think you're agile…"

"No, kupo. Could you stopshot…"

"No, kupo."

Each continued staring for a moment, before both muttered, "Crap."

"This isn't possible," Thomas said, shaking his head and turning away. "This isn't fricking possible!"

"But we need to keep going soon, kupo," Isaac argued, looking up towards the entrance of the cavern. They hadn't gone more than forty metres down. He didn't even bother looking down. Even if they could already see the bottom, it would still be an incredibly long distance. "Those other four are probably after us by now, kupo."

"And seeing as we've left pretty obvious signs of the other traps, they won't take as long, kupo," Thomas added. "If only there were some way we could just skip all of this! Some way to go straight to the bottom, without dealing with all the bloody traps…"

Thomas's voice died slowly, for he and Isaac had suddenly looked at each other, and seen the same expression in the other's face.

"We couldn't possibly…" Isaac whispered.

"We don't have a choice…" Thomas countered, though his voice was just as unsure.

Without even agreeing, both slowly walked over to the edge of the lip, looking down at the impossibly long drop.

"Whatever we're looking for, kupo, it's down there," Isaac said, deciding it was best to start with the obvious.

"There's no way we'll make it there without dying, kupo."

"And we _are _in an engagement…"

"Which means we _could _each die…"

"And the rules are 'reach the target'…"

"Not reach the target alive…"

Both of them glanced over at the other, noting identical grins of disbelief at what they were about to do.

"We're doing it, aren't we, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"We certainly are, kupo," Thomas responded.

With that, each one stepped off of the edge.

For the one instant before gravity took effect, a moment of absolute vertigo invaded Isaac's body. His thoughts raced as he stared in horror at the drop below him. _Why did I do that? What if that thing's bottomless? What if we're stuck falling for all of eternity without stop? What if…?_

Then gravity hit them.

The breath left Isaac's lungs as he plummeted.

Well, if you could call less than a metre a 'plummet'. For, as suddenly as he had begun falling, his feet found themselves upon solid ground once again, his legs bent to absorb shock.

Isaac's eyes were clamped shut, and it took him a good thirty seconds before he opened them. When he did, he took quick stock of himself. He noted none of his body parts laying around splattered across the floor, nor any of the clouds or brimstone which would have suggested the afterlife. Carefully, he fluttered his wings, and felt that they were also still attached.

Finally, he looked around him, to find Thomas also gazing around in shock and amazement. They were in a near carbon copy of the room they had been in before, minus the massive, never-ending staircase coiling down the bottomless pit below them. Instead, there was a simple stone floor, and the entrance was completely level with them. Collapsed on the ground by this entrance were the four opponents whom Isaac had stopshot at the cavern entrance.

It took a good while before either of them managed to vocalize their feelings. However, when Thomas finally did break the silence, he managed to sum it up pretty well:

"What the kupo hell?"

"Kupokupokupo!" Isaac yelled, jumping up suddenly and laughing.

"What?"

" 'Your courage and your daring shall serve you better than your sword'!" Isaac cited, still laughing. "It must have all been an illusion to test our courage and our daring, kupo! Only somebody crazy or incredibly brave would jump off the ledge!"

"Let's go with the second option, kupo," Thomas replied, laughing back.

"So, then, where's the blade, kupo?"

The two of them looked around, combing the circular room. Finally, Thomas called out, "Over here!"

Isaac rushed over, and saw that the juggler had discovered a lip in the wall. Together, they managed to jam their fingers into the cracks, and pull the loose bit out. Once they had, both stuck their paws into the small hole, and closed their fingers around a piece of paper.

Slowly, they pulled the parchment out together, and stared at it. Pictures and writing were covering it, and as their eyes perused it, they each quickly realised one thing:

Recovering even the first Avuir was going to be a much bigger task than they'd imagined.

Suddenly, they heard a piercing whistle, which rung directly through the stones to their ears. Each one quickly recognized it as the official whistle of a judge of the palace.

The two ran outside, Isaac folding the paper and placing it in a pouch on his belt. They blinked slightly at the sudden brightness of the sunlight, before looking for their commander.

She stood, her chest heaving, sweat dripping from her bow, and her blade held perfectly ready in case her opponent tried to attack again. She appeared unhurt, but her clothing was quite untidy, and soaked through in many places with the sweat.

Eric was in a similar state, exhausted, holding one blade ready. The other was stuck into the rock of the canyon wall, right up to the hilt.

"Isaac," Lini panted, nodding to him. "Thomas. Please tell me you two have the target?"

Before either could reply, the judge's voice rang out, proclaiming, "The team of Lini the Mogknight has reached the target first! Thus, victory goes to said organisation! The team lead by the Hero Eric cannot attack them for twenty four hours! This is the palace's decree!"

"What?" Eric demanded. "Impossible! It is impossible that my four warriors couldn't take on those two…" he searched for a word.

"Moogles, kupo?" Thomas suggested helpfully.

"Yes," Eric said darkly.

"Well, while your fighters are good, kupo," Isaac replied, grinning at him.

"They aren't the smartest bunch," Thomas finished, the exact same grin on his face.

"Take after their leader, wouldn't you say so, Thomas?"

"Definitely, kupo."

Eric lunged at them, his blade coming down in an incredibly fast chop. Neither Isaac or Thomas had a weapon with them, and they could only watch as the fighter's blade came in to crush them.

From out of nowhere, another sword intercepted the fighter's blade. He glared over in surprised outrage at the wielder of the weapon, only to meet the impassive helm of a judge.

"Rules state that losers cannot engage the winners in combat for twenty-four hours afterwards," the voice said coolly, and even Eric had to quake before it. The blade slipped from his sweaty palms as the judge reached a gauntleted hand into the sash at his side. "All violators will be sent directly to prison."

The hand came out, pulling with it a card of deep crimson. The judge tossed this card into the air, and Eric disappeared in a flash of light.

The judge glanced over at Lini, and nodded. Then, he disappeared, his chocobo letting out one last warble.

Lini was still panting, shaking her head and rubbing sweat from her brow. It was at this moment that Isaac realised just how incredible a fighter Eric must be. The gunner had never seen his teacher looking like that after a fight, aside from after Caesar.

"Well," she said, looking over at them. "I guess the two of you managed to get it, kupo?"

"Oh yeah," Thomas said, nodding smugly.

"Right," she sighed. "And, uh, what exactly _is _it, kupo?"

Isaac pulled out the paper, and passed it over to her. She unfolded it, and her eyes scanned over it quickly. "Oh," she said finally. "This shall be a challenge…"

She turned her back suddenly, and began walking away. Isaac and Thomas, after a moment of surprise, followed quickly after her.

"We should try to be quick, kupo," she announced. "There are rumours that a tribe of tonberries lives somewhere in this canyon. Oh, and by the way, kupo," she glanced over her shoulder at them, a certain glint her eyes, "it's nice to see the two of you getting along."

Both of the moogles stopped, Isaac actually stumbling a bit.

They stared at each other, a mixture of shock and horror on their faces. Neither could speak, and neither could even keep walking for several seconds.

"Please realise that I won't defend you two if a swarm of tonberries comes at you, kupo," Lini called back to them.

The two of them began walking again, pointedly not looking at each other and keeping their distances.


	52. Discord

"So, when're we gunna be learnin' where w're goin'?" Carl asked, looking up momentarily from the work he was doing on one of his knuckles. "Yeh know, fer all of us 'at died, kupo."

It was the night of the same day, and they had finally stopped to make camp. The moon was already high into the sky, and all six moogles were exhausted. Despite her own weariness after having fought Eric, Lini had forced them to march late into the night before finally calling a halt. The six were now all sprawled around their small campfire, in varying levels of sloth and exhaustion, as they ate a stew which Montblanc had prepared for them.

"Actually, kupo," Lini said, looking over to the gadgeteer, "I won't be telling anybody where we're going. The only ones who know are Thomas, Isaac, and myself."

"Kupokupo?" the other three said as one, slightly indignantly.

"Eric knew about this mission somehow, and he also knew exactly where we were going, and when we would be there. The only way he could do that is with the help of inside information. Thus, I want to keep all future information between as few people as possible, kupo."

There was silence for a moment, before July asked, "Are you saying that you do not trust any of us, kupo?"

"Not at all," Lini said, shrugging. "There's always the possibility that somebody on the team is a traitor, but I'm not jumping to conclusions, kupo. It could be something one of you accidentally said to a merchant, or a conversation between two of you which was overheard. I want to minimize the chances for such occurrences."

"My one question," July piped up, "is why Isaac and Thomas got to know, kupo."

"That was unavoidable," Lini replied. "They recovered the information, kupo, so they had to read it. In fact, they had every right to."

"_They _had the right?" July asked incredulously. "It was Montblanc and I who managed to keep the two of them alive long enough to get into the cave! Isaac could not even take on a half-decent swordsman, kupo, and Thomas did not hit a thing until Montblanc froze the target for him!"

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded, half standing up. "What did you—?"

"I said that you need instructions on how to hold a blade, kupo!" July snapped, staring directly at him. "_I_ could have fought that bangaa better than you did."

"Would you like to give it a try?" he demanded, tilting his head slightly to the side.

"Honestly?" the animist laughed, "I feel no fear at all of the thought of you coming at me with a blade, kupo. I could bring you down with one finger on a string before your blade even came out!"

"What are you saying, kupo?"

"I have nothing to say to _you_, kupo," July countered, then turned to Lini, and said, very blatantly, "Why is this _child_ in our group, kupo?"

There was silence for a good while after this question was asked. Thomas was standing, along with Isaac and July, after her comment about him as well. Carl had an eyebrow raised in interest, and a strange grin on his face. Montblanc was simply picking at his stew with a look of pure annoyance on his face. Isaac was staring at July in outrage, while she remained looking hard at Lini.

Lini, for her part, acted as though she hadn't even heard the entire argument for quite a while. She simply finished her last bite of stew, then reached up and carefully dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a pocket handkerchief. Finally, she looked up, but not at July. Instead, she turned her gaze to Carl, and informed him, "You and Thomas have yet to practise today, kupo. Maybe you should get to that."

"Why not, kupo?" Carl replied, glancing over to Thomas. "Less go."

Reluctantly, Thomas followed his teacher away over the rocky terrain.

After this, Lini looked over to Montblanc, and said, "I know this meal isn't sitting well with you. Go back to your tent and get your herbs for that medicinal tea you always drink. I'll join you after this is done, kupo."

Isaac watched in slight confusion as the Black mage walked away. Medicinal tea?

Finally, Lini turned her gaze over to Isaac, and said simply, "Wait for me over there." She gestured. "Bring your blade. We still have to spar as well."

Isaac nodded slowly, then turned around, and walked briskly away from the two female moogles. In the time he had spent with her, Isaac had quickly learned that Lini was at her most dangerous when acting calm and orderly.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Lini finally did come to meet him, she looked incredibly tired. She barely looked at him while walking up, and when she did, it was with a look of absolute exhaustion.

"You are more trouble than you're worth, Isaac of the Five."

" 'Isaac of the Five'?" Isaac asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yes, kupo," she nodded. "It's what they've been calling all five of you since the Battle of the Worldwyrm, kupo. Just how removed were you from the world in Muscadet?"

"As much as we could manage," he replied. "So, uh, are you going to talk to me about what happened with July back there, kupo?"

"Should I?" she asked.

"Well, I kind of overreacted, kupo…"

"She attacked you, and you defended, kupo," Lini replied simply. "Now, you may have overdone the reply, but you were completely right in doing it."

Isaac stared at her in absolute surprise as she began stretching out her arms in preparation for their fight. "So, wait, you're not going to tell me to just persevere despite it or something like that, kupo?"

She looked over at him in an exasperated manner, then told him, "I expect you to learn how to fight, not to be a perfect debater. That said," she slowly reached down to grab the hilt of her blade, and drew it out, "your fighting skills could do with a very good deal of improvement."

With that, she came at him.

Isaac's paw hadn't touched the hilt of his blade before he flew back, slamming against the ground painfully hard.

"You're going to have to get much better if you wish to survive much longer in this world, Isaac, and, kupo, much more immediately, in this mission."

"It's easy for you to say!" Isaac yelled. He was about to continue, when his feet were knocked out from underneath him. In the one instant when he was hanging in the air, Lini swung her blade back around, slapping him in the chest with the flat of it.

Isaac flew back, and rolled over backwards once with the momentum. As he landed on his back, he felt a booted foot smash down on his chest, pushing him back down to the ground. Steel came to rest upon his neck, and he stared up at Lini.

"How is it easy for me to say, kupo?"

"You've got your special blade, there, kupo!" Isaac retorted. "Been in your family for generations, passed down from one to the next. I wouldn't be surprised if it was more powerful than the Avuirs!"

Lini simply stared at him for a moment. Then shaking her head, she flipped her blade up into the air.

Isaac watched in horror as it went up in one slow arc, before coming back down at him with the point leading. He closed his eyes and looked away, then felt the impact.

It hurt. Not like the few times he had been stabbed or shot in engagements. More like when Ben used to sit on him when they were watching movies, or whenever Thomas punched him in the chest. A pain of weight more than sharpness.

Isaac opened his eyes, and saw the blade lying across his chest, without a single cut in him. He sat slowly up, then took the weapon in both hands, hefting it.

"That blade," Lini told him, sitting down suddenly next to him on the earth, "is as dull as a butter knife, kupo. Try cutting yourself on it. Just try."

Isaac felt the edge of the weapon, testing it on his fingers. Not a scratch showed up. He slowly held the blade up close to his eyes, and saw that the weapon was not in the least bit sharpened. It was as though it were more of an ornamental piece than anything.

"You managed to cut through a _rock_ with this thing, kupo?" Isaac demanded, staring over at her.

"What can I say?" she laughed. "When I was young, and my father was always out on some insane adventure or another, my grandfather taught me how to fight with a shaved down metal bar, kupo. I've never even held a real blade in my entire life."

"Are you serious?" Isaac demanded, staring at it. "That's incredible."

"No, kupo," she countered, "that's a _lot _of practise and training."

"So, where was your father all the time, kupo?" Isaac asked.

Lini glanced over at him, and whispered, "That question will cost you an extra ten minutes of training tonight, kupo."

"Deal," he replied, without having to stop to think about it.

"Fine," she muttered, standing up. "We might as well get started, then, kupo."

The two got to their feet, brushed themselves off, and then picked their swords up from the ground. Isaac started the cycle of attacking, and off they went, with Lini saying words in time with the pinging of the swords.

"About thirty years ago, a group of adventurers came into existence. They were known as the Ultima Four, kupo. Amongst their members were Lord Pallanza the Many-Bladed, and the at the time current Lini the Mogknight, my father."

Lini twirled around a blow, and softly touched her blade four times across Isaac's back, just hard enough to sting, but not enough to knock him over, continuing.

"All four of these members were direct descendants of the five original wielders of the Ultima power. Thus, not only were they skilled beyond any other adventurers of the time, but they had the power to unleash the energies given as a gift to the races by one of the Totema themselves, kupo."

Lini parried a blow, but did more than just hold the attack back, but also pushed it out and around to the side, and the placed the tip of her blade at Isaac's throat. She gave him a slight shove back with her free hand, enough to disengage them again, and they continued.

"One day, the four were called in on a mission to bring down the greatest warrior of the underworld and his mercenary group in the Jagd Dorsa."

Lini blocked one of Isaac's attack squarely, holding it, and stared him in the eye.

"The name of the man they were sent to kill was Caesar."

Isaac felt a chill run through him as their eyes held each other, completely captivated by her tale. She stepped calmly back, and they continued again.

"When the four of them went to attack, they were ambushed. Apparently, kupo, news of the assassination attempt had reached Caesar's ears beforehand somehow."

Lini closed her eyes, and went silent for several seconds. Still, Isaac's attacks rung off her blade, not coming close to their mark.

"As the other three grappled with trying to stop all of the others around them, kupo, Lini engaged Caesar alone."

Her eyes snapped open again, and Lini suddenly smashed her blade into Isaac's. The sheer force of the blow sent Isaac flying backwards, to land hard against a small, natural pile of rocks.

"In the end, Lord Pallanza was taken captive, and beaten until he could barely remember his very name, and Caesar murdered Lini, receiving not a scratch in the process."

Isaac stared at his teacher, and noticed that the blade was shaking in her grip. There was a strange look on her face which the gunner had never associated with Lini. It was one of fear, and hopelessness.

"Get up," Lini muttered, telling him, "we still have training."

"Just one more question, kupo."

Lini regarded him oddly. Then, she responded, "What is it, kupo?"

"I want to know exactly what I'm risking my life for, kupo," he replied, looking her in the eye again. "I want to know what's so special about these two blades."

"The blades?" she laughed. "You can't seriously tell that you don't know of the special properties of the Twin Blades Avuir, kupo!

Isaac shrugged, and continued looking at her impassively.

"Fine," she shook her head. "But keep attacking. The two Avuirs, the Avuir Red and the Avuir Blue, are both the sharpest blades in existence. Now, the red blade is by far the sharper of the two, kupo. It is said that that weapon will cut through a bladebiter's shell if just laid across it. And the Avuir Blue, while nowhere near as sharp as its counterpart, has one very special ability: it makes the wielder significantly lighter, kupo. This allows them to run faster, jump higher, move their weapons or shields easier to block, change the direction of their attacks in mid swing. Also, my ancestor, the original Lini the Mogknight, kupo, decreed on his death bed that, 'None of my line shall ever wield any weapon other than the Avuirs or the Materia Blade'."

"So," Isaac reasoned, as Lini deftly hopped over his low swing, "you want the blades, kupo, so that you can fulfill his dreams for your family?"

"Amongst other things, kupo," Lini muttered, "yes."

The two fought on for quite a while, still in silence. Then, all of a sudden, Isaac piped up.

"If we manage to find one of the blades, kupo, I'll tell you about me and Thomas."

Lini stared at him out of the corner of her eye as she tripped him by slapping one of his ankles. "Why this sudden decision?"

"Well, you just told me a whole lot of personal information about yourself, kupo," he reasoned, "so it just seems fair."

"Then we know where this will be resolved, don't we, kupo?" she asked, arching and eyebrow at him.

"Yes," Isaac replied, a grin spreading across his face. "Lutia Pass."


	53. Two Ultimates Meet

Within three weeks, the six moogles had finally found the mountains through which Lutia Pass wound. The path was, in itself, not terribly dangerous. If one kept to the path, one couldn't hope to find anything much worse than a couple of goblins or relatively weak panthers.

However, if one ventured off of the beaten path, it was a terribly different story. In general, only the weakest and most desperate of creatures actually came to the paths, for fear of being eaten by the far greater creatures which lurked in the shadows of the mountains. There were many rumours of panthers six feet tall at the shoulders, and even more frightening, a direct route from Jagd Ahli's zombie infested lairs to the high precipices.

Even more dangerous than the creatures, however, was the climate. Constant snow storms, uncertain ground, avalanches, absolutely no food or water, and other such terrible things were all too common to the outer reaches of the pass. Sheer drops into nearly bottomless gorges, crossable only by means of thin, naturally formed ice bridges, added to the danger considerably, and that was when you were lucky. More often than not, the gorges were simply covered by a thin sheet of snow and ice, through which one could fall all too easily…

It was to the greatest outreaches of this perilous area that the team was headed. Montblanc, July, and Carl all became suspicious when they stopped in at an outfitters in a tiny village. The six had purchased the heaviest and warmest clothing they could possibly afford with the meagre amounts of gil they had all brought along with them.

Two days later, as they were walking along the increasingly cooling path. They hadn't reached the actual arctic sections yet, still having many birch trees along both sides. The sun had just begun its descent back towards the horizon, barely visible through the thick cloud cover.

Suddenly, both Isaac and July stiffened, and all the moogles barely heard the animist's soft voice. "You heard that, right, kupo?"

"Sure did."

Lini's voice whispered to all of them, barely audible. "Draw weapons when I do, kupo. If there are too many, then…"

_Fwoosh!_

Lini stopped, suddenly, staring. An arrow was embedded in the earth, not an inch from her footpaw. The thing was still quivering, when a voice rang out across the clearing.

"Drop your weapons, or I promise I'll make pincushions out of all of you."

Lini's voice was very clear now, and its words frightened the other five. "Do as he says."

Lini's blade had already hit the earth. Slowly, the others followed suit, slowly letting all of their weapons down. The last to put his weapon down was Carl, who had to remove both of the complicated mechanisms which held the blades for his knuckles in them. Finally, they all stood, completely unarmed. They remained motionless for a moment, then the voice called out again.

"The juggler has to take off his bracelets, and I want the Black mage's hands tied behind his back."

Grudgingly, Thomas pulled off the two tight black bands around his wrists, the ones which allowed him to summon throwing knives at will. As soon as they hit the ground, one man emerged from the trees, and beckoned to Montblanc. The moogle nodded, and approached. As soon as he reached him, the man promptly turned him around, and bound his paws tightly together.

A moment of silence followed once again, before the voice said, "Alright. Men, out of cover!"

With that, a very motley crew of humans, bangaas, and a few moogles walked out of the trees. It was surprising, almost as though they were simply stepping out of tree trunks to magically appear. Each human carried a bow of some sort, and most of the moogles had guns.

The last to show his face was the one to whom the voice belonged. He stepped slowly forward, a heavy greatbow clamped in one hand, an arrow still pressed to the string. He wore a long, dark brown cloak, with a skinning knife stuck into the belt.

Isaac's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the familiar form of Cheney.

The hunter walked slowly forwards, until he was staring squarely down at Lini.

There was incredibly tension as the two of them stared at each other hard for several seconds. Finally, Cheney broke the silence, saying: "You've grown."

Lini simply stared up at him, hate clearly etched into every feature. "Of course I've grown, kupo. It's been over ten years since we last met, milord." She seemed to spit the last word.

He stared strangely at her. Then, finally, he said, "However, your manners seem to have reduced a bit, D—"

"It's Lini," she snapped.

Cheney paused, and then a small smirk crossed his lips. "So it is, then. You truly are the mogknight."

"I am, kupo."

There were several seconds more of silence. All the members of the two Ultima wielders' teams felt uncomfortable in the presence of their leaders. None really knew what was going.

Suddenly, something dawned on Isaac. Lini had said the Ultima Four had consisted of four of the five wielders of Ultima at the time. That meant that Cheney must have been one of them, which also meant that he had been present at Lini's father's death.

"I may as well get to business, then," Cheney muttered.

"You may as well, kupo."

"Fine. I was hired by the fighter Erik, claimed descendant of the Hero Gaol, to ambush your team of six and prevent them from retrieving…" he stopped, shaking his head, then continued, "one of the twin blades Avuir."

"And how did you know you would find us here, kupo?" Lini asked.

"Wait," Cheney demanded, "you're actually going after the blades?"

"Clearly, kupo," she muttered defiantly. "Now, how did you find out where we'd be?"

Cheney didn't answer. Instead, he announced to his group, "Blindfold them, and bring them back to the camp. Tie the followers up and put them by the fire. Bring _Lini_ to my tent." He started walking away, then paused, and added, "On second thought, bring the gunner to my tent as well."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

When Isaac's blindfold was finally pulled off, many hours later, he found himself lying on his front in a mid-sized, scarcely furnished tent. He tried pushing himself up on his hands, but found them tied together. Instead, he looked around.

He caught sight of Cheney, kneeling over to remove the blindfold from Lini's face. When he finally finished with the blindfold, he stepped back, and stared at the two moogles, an appraising look in his eyes.

"It seems you're not the only one who's grown, Lini," he muttered, his eyes resting on Isaac.

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded.

"Well, alright, you're still just as short as you were before," the hunter conceded, "but you're definitely older. And I can see those muscles. You've been training. I should like to have another shoot out with you one day."

Isaac opened his mouth to reply, but Lini beat him to it.

"He's got more than just his gun going for him, kupo."

"So I see," the hunter replied, grabbing the moogle and holding him up in front of him. "Those aren't just shooting muscles you've got. You've been swinging that blade a lot lately."

"Can you see it?" Lini asked, and Isaac had no idea what she was talking about.

"What?" Cheney asked, looking the gunner up and down. All of a sudden, his eyes lit up, and he blurted out, "You can't be serious!"

"Why not, kupo?"

"Well, I mean, he's…"

"Excuse me, kupo," Isaac interrupted, glaring at Cheney one moment, and Lini the next. They both looked surprised by his outburst, so he continued, "I'm right here, and I can hear you, kupo, so stop talking about me like some chocobo you're bartering over."

"Well," Cheney muttered, a grin in his eyes, "you've managed to keep your sharp tongue, too. However, where are your friends?"

"I decided to take a solo mission for a change," Isaac replied, shrugging. "It's not that big of a deal, kupo."

"Of course not," Cheney replied, putting the gunner back down. "I guess you're just building up your fame, for now…"

"Not exactly, kupo," Isaac shrugged again. "We just wanted a bit of adventure, kupo."

Cheney laughed, bitterly, shaking his head. "Well, you're still filled with those good intentions, aren't you, Isaac?"

"I am, kupo."

"Abandon them," Cheney ordered, casting him a glance. "Honestly, just don't try to play the hero."

"And why shouldn't he, Cheney?" Lini asked, her voice hard and mocking. "Because it didn't work out for you?"

"_You _can be quiet, Lini," Cheney told her, "and stop trying to fill his head with false hopes." He turned his attention back to Isaac, and told him, "I guess you haven't got a kill yet, right?"

"Course not, kupo," Isaac scoffed.

"It's coming," the hunter promised. "Now, your teacher and I have some matters to discuss in private. Carla!"

The bangaa appeared at the entrance to the tent, just as frightening as before.

"Take the gunner and place him with the rest of his comrades. Don't disturb us for any reason."

The gunner grabbed Isaac by the scruff of the neck, and lifted him bodily up and out of the tent. As soon as they were outside, Isaac was hit by a shocking rush of cool air, which stole all of the air from his lungs for a few moments. He noticed that the moon was out, and realised just how long they'd been pulled along while blinded.

She carried him over to a nearby ring of tents, at the center of which was a large, roaring fire. The other four moogles were all tied together in a circle quite close to it, while the many members of Cheney's group sat around cooking their suppers. Carla roughly threw Isaac onto the cool ground next to the other four, and tied him in with them. That done, she turned, walking away to join two other bangaas seated on the other side of the fire.

"What 'appened?" Carl asked as soon as the bangaa was out of earshot.

"I'm not completely sure myself, kupo," Isaac muttered. "They were talking about things I don't understand."

"Thas' the way 'tis with Ultima users, kupo," the gadgeteer sighed. "I worked with a lot of 'em over th' years, an' 'ey're always talkin' 'bout 'eir older 'dventures 'n' all 'at."

"Why did he wish to speak with you, kupo?" July inquired.

"Oh, probably something to do with the last time we fought, kupo," Isaac muttered, rolling his eyes.

"You _fought _an Ultima wielder and survived!?" she demanded.

"Well, yeah, kupo," he shrugged.

"And you can not even manage to fight off a bangaa with a broadsword, kupo?"

Isaac sighed. "I'm a far better gunner than I am a mogknight. How many times must I repeat this, kupo?"

"You guys, kupo?" Thomas whispered, just loud enough for the five of them to hear. "We've gotta find some way to bust out of her soon, kupo. Montblanc isn't looking too good."

Isaac strained his neck to turn and see Montblanc, who was tied in at the opposite point of the circle. The Black mage was slumped forward where he sat, and was shivering uncontrollably.

"Great, kupo…" Carl muttered. "Any ideas?"

As the gadgeteer finished speaking, a voice called over from the ranks of hunters. "Hey, moogles! Entertain us!"

"I may have an idea…" July murmured as one of the humans walked over towards them.

"We're bored, moogles. We've been out here waiting for you for over a week, and now Cheney wants us to wait some more. So, it's your job to keep us entertained. Any volunteers?"

"I believe that I can keep you entertained, kupo," the animist piped up. "Just untie me."

The hunter cocked an eyebrow at her, and asked, "How stupid do you think I am? Untie you?"

"What could I do, kupo?" July asked, giving him a belittling expression. "I am _one _animist without any instruments close to hand. You could even leave my hands bound, should you so wish."

The hunter remained eying her suspiciously for a moment. Then, finally, he muttered, "Alright. But if your lads there try anything funny, I'll cut your throat."

He walked over, and untied her from the group of moogles. The four others did nothing, simply watching as she stood up and stretched slightly. Then, she walked over so that she stood before the group of hunters. There was a moment of silence as she simply stood there, inhaling and exhaling in a very controlled manner. Then, she tilted her head back slightly, opened her mouth slightly, and began singing.

It rang out, loud and clear. Slowly, it gathered force and power until it was quite literally resonating within each of the listeners present. Her voice called wordlessly to every chord in Isaac's body, and he found himself staring wide-eyed at her, unable to do anything else.

She went on for several minutes, with everybody transfixed by the sound of her voice. When she finally ended, there was a small moment of silence before the sound of the wind returned to them.

July looked up, and a grin spread across her face.

Each one of the members of Cheney's band was splayed out unconscious around the fire.

Quickly, July stepped over and began undoing the bonds of the four other moogles. Several times, one was about to ask her what she'd done, but she simply motioned for silence.

Once they were free, July lead them off, away from the campfire, into the shadows of the trees. She turned back to them, and said, "I used an animist spell to put them to sleep. It is quite powerful, but will not last long. Come, we must rescue Lini."

"One problem, kupo," Isaac objected. "We don't stand a bloody chance against Cheney without any weapons."

"I think that I can muster up something," Montblanc stuttered from where he stood, leaning on Carl's shoulder.

With that decided, the five of them ran, as quietly as they could, along the short, rough path which lead to Cheney's tent.

When they were outside, Isaac and Thomas each went to one side of the flap, while July and Carl helped hold Montblanc up in front of it. Montblanc rolled his neck, then gave a curt nod to the two by the flap.

They each grabbed one side, and threw it open. As soon as he could clearly see the insides, Montblanc raised his hands, and lightning shot from them with fury.

Cheney looked up, surprised, from where he was standing, and just managed to dive out of the way of the oncoming attack.

However, Lini quickly pounced on him, with her hands bound before her. Without any hesitation, she used those hands to grab onto the front of his shirt.

Suddenly, everything began leaning in to her. Light, matter, and time, all bent to her will, and the whistling wind flew in to wrap around one of her hands.

Soon, a glowing nexus of bright light had gathered in the palm of one open hand, as she glared down at Cheney. For perhaps the first time ever, Isaac thought he saw a look of fear in his eyes.

"Without a weapon or any room to draw back for a proper strike, it might not kill you, kupo," Lini informed him, "but if I release this energy here, I'll at the very least maim you permanently."

They stared at each other for a long time, before Lini called over to the other moogles, "Our equipment is in that chest over there, kupo. Grab it, and wait for me outside."

Isaac and Thomas rushed over to grab all of the weapons. As Isaac continued grabbing things, Thomas turned back to call, "None of our warm clothing is here, kupo!"

"Dammit," Lini whispered. "We'll have to go without it. And Isaac? Grab my blade for me, would you, kupo?"

The two moogles did as bidden, then ran outside of the tent. They quickly passed out the weapons, cloaks, and other such materials that the others carried. Soon, they were all dressed.

Suddenly, in the tent, the leaning in of everything stopped and died. A few moments later, Lini walked out, and grabbed her blade from Isaac, saying as she went, "We have to leave. Now, kupo. It won't take him long to rouse his crew, and then it'll be a chase to whoever gets the blade first."

"Lini," July protested, "I do not believe that Montblanc will survive such a trek without any kind of protection, kupo."

Lini looked over at the mage. He was shivering all over, sucking in deep breaths of air, and leaning completely on Carl.

"Right. I need a volunteer to go back with him, kupo."

"I shall go," July said. "The spell back there took quite a toll on me."

"Right, go, kupo, and get him to the pub at Carso. We'll meet you there."

July nodded, and Carl transferred Montblanc's weight onto her. The two of them began their descent, and Lini turned back to the other three.

"Alright. Here's how it is, kupo. They outnumber us five to one, and they have an Ultima wielder. They are prepared for the conditions we'll be facing. We are not. They are all trained specifically for pursuit and long range combat, kupo. We have one long range and one mid-range combat experts, kupo, and two melee experts. I'm summoning a judge now, but the way this will work, we _can't _win an engagement against them, and if you go down, we won't be able to come back for you. You'll be their prisoner, and they have one of the greatest torturers in the world on their team, kupo. Any questions?"

Not a word.

"Good. So get the blade, get out, don't die, kupo. Let's go."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A/N: How's that for a speedy update?


	54. Left Hand Blade

The wind screamed through the mountain passes, tearing at the four moogles and their clothing as they hobbled forward, shivering. The snow, which would have been quite deep on a human, made it incredibly impossible for them to move forward. Lini was at their head, pushing through the snow by shear physical force. Her shoulders squared, she kept leaning forward and batting the powder away, ignoring the numbing cold.

Behind her came Carl, his knuckles grasped firmly in his paws so that the blades were bared at all times. He shivered the least, for some reason, as he kept a strong stride behind Lini. Strangely, his eyes seemed even harder than Lini's, scanning the horizon for anything that might appear.

Next was Thomas, whose was shivering the most by far. His breath crystallized in the air before him even as it escaped his mouth, getting caught in all of the fur on his face. His head was bowed, and he had to stumble every few steps as his foot sunk into the snow slightly deeper. He had already put on his fingerless leather gloves, and both of his ears were pulled back against his head to keep them warm. The fur everywhere on him was fluffed up, trying to add extra warmth.

Last came Isaac, whose Longbarrel was clamped tightly in his paw, waiting for the first attack. Despite the cold, and the fact that they'd already been running for about three hours, he was perfectly alert. The wind made it impossible for him to hear much, so he was forced to rely on his eyes for detection of any approaching enemies. He was also wearing his fingerless gloves, the knitted ones which were the result of his transformation to a moogle. He, unlike the others, was used to cold. While working on _the Torrent_, he'd gotten used to extremely cold, high-altitude temperatures. Many times he had been forced to stand on guard full nights in the crow's nest, remaining alert for attack.

Each one of them would occasionally glance grudgingly towards the judge, still walking along beside them on his chocobo. Somehow, they managed to remain on top of the snow, and neither looked in the least bit cold.

Suddenly, something giant and blue lunged up on their right flank, roaring. Before anyone could react, it swung a huge paw, and swatted Thomas into a snow-bank.

Quickly, Carl turned, and roared his protest right back at the giant panther, lunging at it head on. It swung a paw, claws fully extended, for the gadgeteer's face. Carl ducked with lightning reflexes, letting those daggers swing harmlessly high. Then, he closed with the creature, and threw a punch into the overextended foreleg. The blades sunk into skin, pushing the creature off balance to the right. As the blades pulled out again, hot blood splattered across the snow, melting the stuff wherever it landed.

Carl twirled with the force of pulling his weapon out, as hard as he could, and drove his extended elbow into the panther's face. Bones crunched, and the thing roared in further protest. Carl would have absolutely none of it, however. His foot flew out, catching the panther in the ribs. It roared even louder, backing off slowly.

Defiantly, Carl spat at it, calling out, "Git, yeh damned kitten, or I'll really rip yeh a new one, kupo."

It lunged.

Carl delivered it an uppercut, driving his razors through the creature's chin and up into its skull. It fell dead instantly at his feet, as the gadgeteer caught his judgepoint.

"He alrigh', kupo?" Carl yelled back over the wind.

Isaac had managed to extricate the juggler out of the snow bank, and now had him laid out on the ground. His eyes were shut, and his breathing shallow. Shivering racked his body, making it appear as though he was having a seizure. Isaac shook Thomas, hard, and whispered to him, "Come on, don't pass out on us now, kupo…"

"Isaac."

The gunner looked up, and found Lini's eyes gazing down at him.

"How is he, kupo?"

"It's the cold, kupo!" Isaac yelled. "This is too much for our bodies to handle, kupo! He needs rest."

"We can't stop, kupo," Lini muttered. "We have to leave him…"

"No," two voices said at the same time, suddenly hard instead of concerned.

"I'm not leaving him, kupo!"

"Yeh promised when we started this!"

"If we don't go now, kupo, we won't be able to escape Cheney!" Lini argued back.

"You mean we won't get the blade," Isaac stated, glaring back at her.

There was silence between the three of them for a moment. Then, Lini exclaimed, "You don't understand, kupo! Cheney…"

"We kin fight Cheney, Lini," Carl countered.

"But he's got Ultima!"

"So d'you! Grow some spine, kupo!"

"It's not the same…"

"Lini," Carl grabbed her by the shoulders, and stared her directly in the face. Blood dripped down from his paws, staining her white fur. "I know yeh want those blades, kupo. I understand. However," his tone changed, and he leaned in close to her, in a way Isaac would have been afraid to do to the powerful warrior, "I told yeh when this started, kupo. I refuse teh lose someone else teh these blades."

Isaac glanced from one to the other, surprised by Carl's statement. What did he mean, 'someone else'?

However, apparently what he'd said had managed to calm Lini down somewhat. She sighed, and muttered, "Fine. I'm giving him five minutes. Then we _have _to go, kupo. I'll be doing guard duty."

With that, she walked off, back the way they came.

"Grab 'is legs, Isaac," Carl ordered, shocking Isaac from his reverie. Isaac obeyed, and the two of them managed to lift Thomas over to the still-warm body of the panther. They placed him on top of it, being careful to keep him away from the wet, and quickly cooling blood. Once they were done, the two huddled in close to the panther as well, pushing themselves into the fur.

They simply lay there, waiting for the inevitable moment when Lini would come back and tell them it was time to continue moving. The battle with the panther had apparently taken more from Carl than he'd let on, as his chest was now heaving with exertion. After a time, he simply closed his eyes, and took one, long, deep breath. Then, his breaths returned to normal, and it seemed almost as though he were sleeping.

The break was all too short, however. After what seemed like only a few moments, Lini returned, blade in hand, telling them they had to get going. Fortunately, Thomas had regained his consciousness, so they kept moving, with Carl supporting the juggler on his powerful shoulders.

They continued going, and the further they went, the worse conditions got. Soon, they were all barely managing to walk from the incredible power of the wind. They slipped every few steps, and soon all were soaking wet with melted snow. Isaac found his fingers shaking on the trigger of his gun, and had to holster it for fear of setting it off by accident. They didn't stop again, however, they just kept going.

Soon, half an hour had passed. At one point, Isaac glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder, and his eyes widened.

"They're here, kupo!" he roared, and the gun was suddenly back out. He could just see the first of the approaching hunters, and while he couldn't make out the details, he knew that it would be Cheney. Only he would lead the charge…

Isaac began raising his gun to fire, but Lini's voice stopped him.

"No, Isaac. We just need to hold him up, kupo, and that's all. I'll go…"

"I'll go," Carl interrupted. "You guys keep moving."

"Carl, I told you that _I'd _take the dangerous assignments."

"'n' _I _said that I was here to protect th' younger generation, kupo," Carl countered. "Let th' crusty old moogle deal wi'the crusty middle aged man, kupo. You younguns go on 'n' find the blade."

With that, he ran off back towards the approaching hunter.

Isaac felt like they should have paused. If it had been a book, or a movie, a videogame, or even a terrible television show, there would have been a pause. But now, it was real life, and Lini quickly reminded him of that by yelling, "Let's move!"

With that, the three started moving, Thomas now walking of his own strength. The sounds of the undoubtedly ferocious battle raging behind them couldn't reach them over the wind, so they had no idea how well Carl was doing, or whether he was already dead.

They went perhaps five more minutes, Isaac's ear twitched, and he screamed, "Duck!"

All three hit the ground, just as a hail of arrows and bullets flew by overhead. Just as quickly as he'd yelled the order, Isaac came back up and pointed his gun. The coldness which invaded his entire core fled down into the gun, and there was a lot. He released the shot, and the bullet flew. It smashed into the ground just before the large group of pursuing rangers, and a large block of ice appeared, blocking the path that they had already created.

"That'll hold them for a few minutes, at least," Isaac called back. Thomas was staring at him, but Lini simply nodded, and they continued moving once again.

They began moving. However, an instant later, an arrow slammed into the snow at Lini's feet. All three twirled around, to find Cheney standing behind them. He already had another arrow set to his string, drawn back and ready to fire.

"Did you really think that old moogle would hold me up?" he called, then released the arrow.

A strong hand on Isaac's shoulder pulled him back and down to the ground again, as Lini stepped past him and blocked the shot off of her blade.

There was silence for a moment, until Lini finally told Isaac and Thomas, "Go. The blade is up ahead. No more than a hundred metres."

With that, she lunged forward, blocking several arrows off of her blade.

Isaac and Thomas started running, no longer being slow out of safety. If they didn't run, they'd die. It was as simple as that.

However, they were barely alone. After her first charge, Lini was being pushed back with each arrow that came in at her. And of course, she couldn't just dodge, for fear of an arrow getting by and hitting Isaac or Thomas.

They kept moving, step after agonizing step. Isaac was leading Thomas, pushing his way physically through the snow, and they moved only slightly faster than Lini and Cheney with their relentless pace backwards.

"'Lini'!" Cheney yelled mockingly. "Let's see what you can do with that blade!"

"What do you think he means by that, kupo?" Thomas asked.

"I have no ide—oh mother f—"

Isaac grabbed Thomas, and pulled him along in a sideways dive into the snow. Even as he did so, the strange feeling that they had experienced while speaking, the feeling that the entire universe, and everything in it, be it spatial or time, was bending to one person's will, and one person's weapon, released. And it released as Cheney's voice softly whispered, "_Ultima_."

There was a roaring as the shot released, and a shaking in the mountains all around them. In several locations, the snow dislodged, and fell in great avalanches towards the ground far below. Isaac became aware that Thomas was screaming, not from the sound, but from the vibrations running through the juggler's form. He remembered the first time he'd felt the power of Ultima being unleashed, and couldn't blame him.

As soon as the roaring and shaking had ended, Isaac detangled himself from Thomas, and quickly stood up, trying to find Lini. When he saw her, his eyes widened in shock.

She was picking herself up, with great difficulty, from the melted, and, in places, _burnt _snow. She had apparently managed to throw herself flat in front of the blow, so the worst had missed her. However, there was one huge gash running down her back, from right shoulder all the way down to her left hip, and her right ear was almost completely torn off. The wound was dripping blood liberally, coating the snow behind her clearly. The strain showed in her eyes as she placed the tip of her blade on the ground, using it as a crutch. Finally, she stood straight, and pointed her blade forward at the surprised Cheney. With blood dripping down into her right eye, she called out.

"Is that the best you can do, kupo?"

Cheney didn't reply.

"Keep moving, kupo," she ordered Isaac and Thomas, not looking at them. "I can still hold him for a while."

"Lini…"

"Go!" she roared at them, then charged forward at Cheney again, blood now covering a good portion of her face.

The two took off without anymore encouragement. Isaac glanced over his shoulder to see what was happening.

Lini was closing very quickly, as Cheney continued firing shots at her. She kept deflecting them off of the blade, as easily as she had before the shot of Ultima. They flew left and right away from her, until suddenly, she was on top of the hunter.

She leapt, and swung her blade in a two-handed, overhead chop. Cheney just managed to get his bow up to block the attack like a staff, and the block itself was shaky.

Lini changed her grip on the hilt of her blade somewhat, then used it as leverage to flip straight over the hunter's head. She landed easily in a crouch behind his back, and twirled in another slash. He had drawn his knife at this point, and spun around to meet her attack.

The Materia Blade smashed into the guard of his knife, then shattered through it, sending the actual knife-blade flying off into the snow.

Lini reversed her grip quickly, slashing back at his face. Cheney quickly leapt back, avoiding most of the blow. Still, a thin, red line appeared, drawn from cheek to cheek and crossing part of his nose.

"Isaac!" Thomas yelped, "We've got company, kupo!"

Isaac brought his attention, and managed to get out a single, "Kupokupo!" before he had to jump to the side and out of the way of a descending sword. Thomas had jumped the other way, and already had two throwing knives summoned in his shaking hands.

Apparently, several of the mercenary group had gone around, hoping to head off the moogles. And, apparently, their plan had worked. Five mercenaries stood before them; two hunters, a gunner, and two bangaa warriors. Isaac quickly identified the one who had swung at them as Carla, and groaned inwardly. Exactly what they needed.

Isaac's blade came out, and he easily parried the first slash from Carla's sword. However, he pulled quickly out of the block, knowing that the second warrior was advancing on his exposed flank. He threw a slash this other warrior's way, knowing that it was early. The warrior jumped back, out of the way, just as Isaac called out, "Thomas!"

A throwing knife slammed into the warrior's throat, and he fell, gurgling, into the icy snow. Isaac had no time to celebrate, however, because two arrows were headed towards him, and Carla's sword was following quickly behind. The mogknight breathed deeply, then moved.

He took a step towards the oncoming attacks, then turned, going sideways so that the arrows passed on either side of him. He then threw his blade out, hoping to block the thrust.

His block, however, missed terribly, going far too high. He braced his soldiers, preparing for the blow.

It never came. Metal screamed off of metal, as the sword stopped, held between two crossed daggers. Thomas stared up into her hard eyes, then pushed back at Carla. She, interpreting this to mean he was trying to force an opening, put even more leverage onto the sword.

Thomas, however, simply slid one of his daggers casually out of the block, using the other to divert her attack to the side somewhat. Then, he drew the free dagger forward and across, leaving a deep, thin slash on her hip.

Carla gasped, and stepped back from the unexpected pain. She was in a terrible position, up until the moment when her three companions each let loose their respective weapons. Two arrows went for Thomas, and one bullet for Isaac.

Thomas bent backwards, letting both arrows go by harmlessly high. Then, as he came back up, he gave his left dagger a gentle toss up into the air. As it hung there, Thomas's left hand moved at lightning speed, grabbing a knife from thin air, and whipping it forward. He caught the descending dagger as the hunter his throwing knife was aimed for turned, trying to get out of the way. The knife still managed to slash into his throat, just deep enough to hit the jugular, and so the hunter went down.

Isaac, for his part, simply drew his gun, and held it up to block the bullet. Even as that bullet was falling, he shoved another into his own gun, and pointed at the other gunner. The moogle held a new gun, undoubtedly loaded. Both moogles' eyes narrowed, and they pulled their triggers. Isaac threw his weight over to the left, getting out of the way of his opponent's bullet. His own shot smacked right into its target's forehead, knocking him off his balance. He fell backwards…

And fell, and fell, and fell, screaming all the way.

So it was that the four remaining combatants realised that they were standing at the precipice of an icy cliff.

None of them, however, had any time to contemplate this fact. They were still fighting.

Thomas closed with Carla again, stabbing forward with both daggers. She blocked the attacks with her sword, and then pushed them downwards, all the way into the snow, before throwing a kick at Thomas.

It hit him full in the face, sending him careening backwards. He lost his grip on both daggers, and they went flying off into the snow, instantly becoming invisible.

Isaac rushed in to take his place, delivering a quick blow to the sword. She swung back, and he parried, and so it went, back and forth, for several seconds. Finally, Isaac forced her sword up high enough to deliver a kick to her hip, exactly where Thomas had cut her.

She gasped in pain, and stumbled back. Isaac, not hesitating, drew back his hand, then lunged forward again, throwing the weapon as best he could.

It was enough. The blade flew the distance, and impaled itself into Carla up to the hilt. She opened her eyes, shocked, and fell back, over the cliff.

This, however, left Isaac completely undefended as the remaining hunter fired upon him. The gunner had to fall back to keep out of the way, leaving him vulnerable to the next arrow, which thundered in quick on its predecessor's heals.

Thomas hopped over Isaac's prone form with no hesitation, even as the arrow closed. Without batting an eyelid, the juggler reached out, and plucked the arrow out of the air.

All three of them seemed completely surprised by this development. Thomas, however, managed to keep enough of his wits about him to quickly twirl the arrow around, and launch it back at its owner.

The arrow embedded itself into the hunter's chest, and he fell, bleeding, to the snow.

Isaac and Thomas remained prone, chests heaving, surrounded by red snow on all sides. Forgotten and uncaught judgepoints were littered about them, unnoticed in their haste to survive the battle. Now that it was done, however, Isaac asked the pressing question:

"So, uh, where's the, uh, blade, then, kupo?"

Thomas glanced about himself, shivering, and stuttered out, "I-I d-d-don't know, k-kup-p-po."

Isaac looked over at him, and asked, "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah," he shook his head. "It's j-j-just the c-cold, kupo."

They searched around for several minutes, not finding the blade anywhere. Suddenly, a thought occurred to Isaac, and he glanced over to Thomas.

"Lini the Mogknight must have come here a few hundred years ago, kupo."

"Yeah…"

"So," Isaac reasoned, "if he put the blade here then, by now it's been buried by a few centuries worth of snow and ice, kupo."

They were quiet for several moments. Then, Thomas muttered, "Sh-shit, kupo."

"Tell me about it, kupo. So, what do we—"

He was interrupted by Thomas hitting him with a full body tackle, pushing out of the way of a stray arrow. They both looked up once they'd landed, and realised that Lini and Cheney had caught up with them. The two were each bleeding from several more injuries, though they kept on fighting determinedly. Lini was parrying each one of Cheney's seemingly endless supply of arrows without any hesitation, despite the fact that she was noticeably paler than before. This was evident even through her blood-matted white fur. Neither had even noticed the two moogles watching them as they approached the edge. Finally, Lini was but a step away, holding her ground from each shot.

They each stopped suddenly, as one. Cheney's eyes hardened, and he called out.

"Fine then, Lini. Show me what your father's blade has taught you. Show me that you are actually worthy of your name."

The world began leaning in towards him…

"Fine, kupo."

Then the world was almost being split apart, being forced to decide whether to side with Lini or Cheney. It was incredibly disorienting, as the snow flew to whip around the arrow at Cheney's string, and the wind condensed on Lini's blade. The light everywhere dimmed, filtering over to one side or another.

However, the force of the two Ultima attacks being prepared were nothing compared to the force shown in Cheney and Lini's eyes. The light of their twin attacks reflected in their irises, making it blinding to look at them for too long.

Suddenly, both released their attacks.

Cheney's arrow soared in, aimed directly for Lini's face.

Lini's blade swung, smashing the arrow in midair.

And, so, the world exploded for an instant.

There was nothing. No light. No feeling. No thought. No time. No space. Nothing.

Then, there was suddenly a crater in the ice, probably thirty metres wide and deep. Both Lini and Cheney were stone dead, the former falling off of the edge of the cliff with the blade clamped in her grip, the latter simply collapsing to the snow with the bow clamped in his grip.

Isaac and Thomas stared at all these things for a moment, before they noticed something else.

A glint of blue, directly at the bottom of the crater.

Both jumped into the deep pit, sliding down the side until they reached it, and could only marvel at its beauty.

The left-hand blade of the Hero Gaol, the Avuir Blue.

Its hilt and guard were of pure silver, with several dark blue topazes worked into them. The pommel, however, was an incredibly dark purple amethyst, worked down to perfect smoothness and roundness. The blade itself was shorter than normal, but also wider. It didn't taper down until the last four and a half inches, and when it did, it sloped gradually down to that point. Not a single notch adorned it, leaving it completely perfect. The colour appeared extremely odd in its simple blueness. Isaac was surprised at the fact that it didn't even look like metal. It appeared to be something completely different. Maybe plastic, even, from the colour.

The two simply stared at it for several moments, before Isaac whispered, "Who should take it, kupo?"

"You."

"Kupopo?"

"You're the mogknight!"

"Just barely."

"I'm offering you the honour of being the first person to hold the blade of the Hero Gaol and Lini the Mogknight in hundreds of years, kupo," Thomas said, remarkably flatly. "I'm not often generous, so take advantage of it."

Isaac shrugged, and closed the fingers of his paws around the hilt. Instantly, lightness entered him. He felt so… weightless. He quickly pulled the blade out of the snow, and, at a whim, tries jumping.

He went probably twice as high as he normally would.

"Wow," he whispered, for lack of a better word.

"There they are!" a voice screamed.

The two looked up, and realised that the rest of Cheney's crew had finally arrived. Over a dozen bows were trained on them, arrows set to the strings.

Isaac glanced behind him, and asked quietly, "How far can you fly, kupo?"

"Not very far."

"Then take the blade, kupo."

Isaac passed the Avuir Blue over to Thomas. As soon as the juggler touched it, he whispered, "Wow."

"Now," Isaac whispered, closing his eyes. "Jump."

They turned, and, even as the arrows flew, Isaac hooked his paws into the back of Thomas's shirt, his wings spread out wide, and they leapt from the edge of the cliff.


	55. Wielder of the Blade

_Horror. It was the only word to describe exactly how he felt. His body was locked up by the sheer power of the emotion, seizing up his veins and invading his mind. This couldn't be. It wasn't possible. This was far beyond anything that he had expected. Something was dawning upon him, in the back of his mind, as he slowly realised that the world was opening up beneath him and swallowing him whole. He could not even imagine a worse situation. There was none. Taking a deep breath, he reached down very slowly, his hand shaking, to touch—_

_He was falling. Falling unendingly, without reason. He simply… fell. That was all. All his logic told him that this wasn't normal, but that didn't change the fact. However, he felt no discomfort over this fact. The falling was simply a test. A test to see if he was worthy. Worthy of the power, worthy of the privilege. He was being tested on whether or not he could think clearly in frightening situations. Well, if that was all that it was, he had no reason to be afraid. He quite simply reached out and touched—_

_He threw his head back, screaming. Whether it was him screaming, or that other, darker side of him, he had no idea. All he knew was that he was losing the battle between himself and the other side. He had to fight it, fight with everything he had, or else… Or else it would all be over. He would fail, and everything he cared about would be ripped away from him. He had to do this for everyone. For his friends. He would push through, and not defeat this curse. No, he would turn it to his own use. It would become a new power. A new way to fight against the oppressors. It was the only option. Grinding his teeth together, his hand groped, and touched—_

_Treachery. It was an interesting thing. If one was the cause of treachery, should they be punished for betraying a friend, or applauded for being clever enough to advance their own position? Apparently, he wasn't completely sure. His opponent, however, was convinced that the latter of the two options was the correct. It made his life incredibly complicated. However, what if the opponent was correct? What if he did deserve what he was being given? What if…? He'd done these things, it was his responsibility to deal with it. His responsibility to pay. But, then again, if he did pay, he'd never see them again. Well, that changed things. For now, he would simply fight, and leave all of these moral questions for a later date, when he wasn't in a duel for his life. His weapon whipped forward, and touched—_

A paw was touching his shoulder. Isaac's eyes shot open, and his eyes darted quickly around.

He was probably in an inn somewhere. He lay on a plain bed, in a room that was bare but for a bedside table, and a chair. In this chair sat Lini, who was gazing down at him with a look on her face which was difficult to read.

"Good morning," she told him.

Isaac stared at her, his eyes as wide as saucers. Finally, after probably half a minute, he whispered, "Where the hell am I, kupo?"

"You're in an inn," she informed him matter-of-factly. "It has been five days since we fought Cheney, kupo, and you have been out cold the entire time."

Silence again. Then, "Oh… right, kupo. So, what happened?"

Lini shook her head slightly, but Isaac still saw the slight smile playing at her lips. "Well, apparently, you managed to fly Thomas all the way to the bottom of that icy cliff, which would have been quite a feat even if it had been only you, kupo. Then, from a combination of the cold and exhaustion, you died. The engagement hadn't finished yet, however, so Thomas simply took your body and took it with him. Fortunately, halfway here, he met up with July, who'd been out looking for us ever since she'd gotten Montblanc back to this inn the day before. She helped him to bring you here, where they hired a healer, kupo. I had arrived earlier that day, because I landed closer to the city during my falling, and I didn't have to drag a body along behind me. And now, we're here, and you…" her eyes narrowed, "are conscious again, kupo."

"Right," Isaac muttered, shaking his head slightly as he sat up in his bed. He thought for a moment, then blurted out suddenly, "Wait, where's Carl!?"

Lini's face darkened somewhat, as she whispered, "He hasn't arrived yet, kupo."

"Then why are we still here, kupo!?" Isaac demanded. He jumped out of bed, and started pacing the room. "We have to get out there and find him, kupo! There's no way he'll survive out there alone. I mean, just thi—"

"Isaac?"

"What!?" Isaac snapped, looking over to her.

In response, she simply raised her eyebrows slightly, then flicked her eyes downwards once.

Isaac suddenly realised that the room seemed a bit chilly.

"FRICK, kupo!" he yelped, running over to the bed and grabbing the covers. He covered himself up, as his face turned red and chest heaved from deep breaths. Finally, when his breathing was back under control, and he didn't feel too mortified to speak, he asked, very quietly, "Why am I wearing no clothes?"

"We couldn't leave you in what you were wearing," Lini laughed, shaking her head. "I mean, those things were soaking wet, and they'd gotten ripped up and threadbare while you guys were escaping, kupo. So…"

Isaac's face went even redder, if possible, through his fur, and he demanded, "Did you—?"

"No!" Lini exclaimed, holding her hands up. "Thomas and Montblanc took them off, kupo. I could barely move when you got here, kupo."

"Okay. And why didn't you point this out to me earlier, kupo?"

"Well I didn't expect you to get up and start parading them around like—"

Isaac shot her a look, and said very fast, "Not one word, kupo, or else, Ultima or not, I'll kill you."

Then, much to Isaac's surprise, Lini burst out laughing.

It was the last thing Isaac would have expected from her, but there it was. She was bent over double, her face red, as she laughed loud and hard. It seemed as though she might pass out, she was going so hard. When she finally finished, she looked up at him, tears in her eyes, and gasped out, "I don't believe I've ever seen you looking so resolute, Isaac."

"Well I'm glad one of us is taking pleasure from this situation, kupo," Isaac muttered, though he was grinning, too.

"I'm sorry, kupo. It's just…" she shook her head. "I promise I'll never even think of this event ever again."

"Thank you, kupo." He sat back down on the bed, pulling the covers nervously tighter. After a few more moments of silence, he asked her, "So, uh, where are my clothes, kupo?"

"We got rid of them," Lini explained, and when Isaac opened his mouth to reply, she quickly added, "We ordered some new ones for you. Honestly, those things were ridiculously old and ratty. We're paying for them. As a group, we've decided that you deserve at least that for everything you did back there, kupo. Thomas is going to pick them up right now. Speaking of whom," her voice changed suddenly, becoming much more serious, "I believe you now owe me an explanation."

Isaac gave her a confused look. She sighed in mild annoyance, then explained.

"You said that if we managed to recover the first blade, kupo, you'd tell me why you and Thomas dislike each other so strongly. So…?"

Isaac looked down at the covers which were serving as his clothing, and said nothing for some time. When he finally did speak, his voice was extremely quiet, and sounded… young, somehow.

"Very little of this I remember, kupo, you have to understand, kupo. I was too young when most of it happened for me to remember now, kupo. I just know the general events, and the results, kupo." Isaac realised that he was dropping into his nervous trait of using 'kupo' too often, and breathed deeply several times, before continuing. "When I was four years old, I went to school for the first time. On my first day, I met a boy named Thomas. The two of us were best friends by the end of that day, kupo. Our bond only got stronger over the next few months, and everything was wonderful.

"Then, one day, I asked my parents if he could come over to our house. They didn't care, kupo," he laughed, suddenly, a somewhat bitter sound, "not that they cared about too much. So, I asked him to come over for that Saturday. He said he had to ask his parents, but that it would probably be alright, kupo, so I gave him my address.

"I was really excited. See, it was the first time that I would ever have had somebody over to my house. Once or twice I would play with other kids from our neighbourhood at the park, kupo, but that was it.

"The next day, however, a Thursday, Thomas avoided me at school. It was weird. Whenever I tried to talk to him, he would just walk away. Same routine on Friday, too, kupo. No matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't talk to me. Obviously, he never showed up Saturday.

"When Monday rolled around, I finally managed to corner him in the playground and ask him why he was asking so weird, kupo, and why he hadn't come. He told me that his parents had said it was alright to come, until he gave the street name. We lived… we still live in a poorer section of town. In fact, probably the poorest section. My dad didn't make much money as a mechanic, kupo, and my mom didn't work. And most of the money they had…" he paused, and shook his head. He didn't go on for several more seconds. Then, he continued. "I got mad at Thomas. No, I got mad at his parents. I insulted them, and Thomas and I got into our fight. The first of many. We got caught, and our parents got called in to take us home. Mine wouldn't come. kupo. When Thomas' father showed up to pick him up, the principal told him what Thomas had done. But that, that _man_, kupo, he just brushed it off, and accused _me _of starting it. Then he looked at me, and the way his face looked…" he shuddered. "It made me feel like I was a rat. I still remember it.

"After that, Thomas and I were arch enemies. The two of us fought, competed with, and infuriated each other every possible way we could, with barely any repercussions: Thomas' parents didn't believe it, and mine didn't care. I made new friends, kupo. I was in Ben and Eileen's class when I was five, and the three of us outcasts bonded. They were the first ones to come over to my house, and since then, we've more or less lived at each other's places. At eleven, Jacqueline moved to our school, and Maxwell joined the group when we were twelve. And the rest…" he sighed. "The rest is history."

The two of them simply sat there for a very long time after that. Eventually, Isaac settled back down into a laying position, his arms limp on either side of him, staring at the ceiling. Lini had her chin resting comfortably in her hand, thinking hard about something.

Finally, once the shadows in the room were beginning to grow longer, Lini stood up abruptly, and said, "I'll be right back, kupo."

She left, with Isaac staring after her. That had been… sudden.

He had no time to think about it, though, for an instant later, the mogknight walked back in, holding a soft, paper-bound package under one arm, and Isaac's fedora in the opposite hand. She threw the package onto his chest, then placed the hat on the bedside table. Finally, she looked over to him, and said, "So, Thomas wouldn't stick with you due to parental pressure and social class, kupo?"

"Yes."

"Well, get up, and put those clothes on," she said, pointing at the package.

"Kupopo?"

"Just do it," she ordered. "I'll meet you outside your room once you're ready."

The door closed, and Isaac, not wanting to simply sit around and sulk the entire day, opened the package. Inside, he found a pair of pants and a shirt, both of the finest quality. Isaac was surprised by them. They each appeared to be quite resistant to wear, and the normal damage one's clothing accumulated on the road.

First, for obvious reasons, Isaac went for the pants. He picked them up, and held them to the light. A slightly tanned shade of white, they were plain enough. He pulled them on, and noticed that there was already a belt pulled through the rings. He grabbed it to buckle the thing up, and saw that the buckle was ornate, and made from pure silver. He did it up quickly, and checked the belt. There was a pouch on the left hip, designed for carrying ammunition.

Next, he grabbed the shirt, and pulled it over his head. It was a pale shade of forest green, and long-sleeved. A quick inspection revealed something strange. On the left side of the cuff around the neck, there was a small insignia stitched into the fabric: a crescent moon, a blade stabbed through its gap. Both were of the deepest black thread, and stitched so that it was perfectly in order.

Deciding to try and find out its origin later, Isaac opened his door, and stepped outside. Lini was waiting, leaning up against the opposite wall of the hallway. Her own blade was on a sheath at her left hip, and Isaac saw the silver hilt of the Avuir Blue glistening from her right hip.

"You realise," she said abruptly, her tone harsh, "that everything you say about being a gunner is absolute nonsense."

"Kupopo?" he demanded.

"You heard me, kupo."

"Have you been watching while I've been using that sword, kupo?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Give it a rest, kupo," she muttered, shaking her head in annoyance. "You're lying about being so terrible with a blade, kupo."

"You think I would _try _to be so terrible!?"

"No, I think that you're afraid of being that good," she countered, giving him a hard look. "There are several things you fear, Isaac, that I have never even heard of before. Your skill with a blade is one of them. You fear the fact that maybe, kupo, just maybe, you might be worthy of being a hero and of being respected, even feared, by those around you."

"Who would be scared of _me_, kupo!?"

"Exactly, Isaac," she laughed softly, infuriatingly. "That's exactly what I mean. You know that as soon as you have that ability, kupo, that power, you'll be forced into new situations. Ones where people are relying on you, where people are looking up to you, where people's _lives _rely on your abilities, kupo. And that scares you most of all."

Isaac was starting to get annoyed with her. She was speaking nonsense. Absolute bollocks. He opened his mouth to tell her so, but she cut him off before he got one syllable out.

"Don't start. Now, would you like to know how I know that you're stronger than you let on, kupo?" she asked.

"Fine, kupo," he snapped back at her. "Dazzle me with this madness you've developed."

"The one thing that controls your life more than any other is you emotion. Your emotions are powerful; they've helped you develop the kinds of bonds with your friends that most people require a lifetime to attain. In fact, kupo, your emotions are so powerful, they've overflowed and given you Third Eye abilities. And these emotions demand one thing of you which your proficiency with a gun cannot supply you."

"And what would that be?" Isaac asked, quietly though, because, for some reason unknown to him, her words were resonating with him.

"You feel the need to protect those around you, even if it should cost you your life, kupo. Your gun forces you to distance yourself from those around you, and do what you can to defend them from further away. It's symbolic of your own belief that you're not worthy.

"However, with a blade, you can run out, stand in the way of the sword aimed for their heads, take an arrow for them, truly defend them from harm.

"So," she reached forward, and grabbed his shoulder, then pulled him along with her, "this is why, despite _everything _you seem to say, you truly are a mogknight. Whether you want to be or not, kupo. Any questions, kupo?"

Isaac simply stared at her as she lead him through several hallways and corridors. Finally, they reached the end of the hallway, where there was a large, heavy door. She stopped there, pushing him back up against the wall, and stood back.

"You lost your blade fighting up there, kupo, right?" she asked.

"Er, yeah, kupo," he said, not knowing what she meant.

"You won't be much of a mogknight without a blade," she muttered, and suddenly, she reached down, and pulled the sheathed Avuir Blue off of her hip. Only then did Isaac recognize the sheath as his own, now-empty leather one. Faster than he could follow, she drew the blade out, and hooked the sheath back into his belt on the right hip. Then, she said, quietly, "Kneel, Isaac."

More from surprise than anything, he obeyed. However, he remained staring at her eyes, surprised by everything that was going on so quickly.

Slowly, reverently, she reached down and laid the flat of the blade across Isaac's left shoulder.

"Here I, Lini the Mogknight, descendant of the One Lini the Mogknight, pupil of the Hero Gaol, Leader of the Aisen Thirteen, and Bearer of the Twin Blades Avuir, dub thee, Isaac of the Five, a mogknight."

With that, she pulled the blade away, and quickly pushed it into the sheath at his hip.

"There," she muttered. "That's done with, kupo. Now, everyone's waiting for us outside, kupo, so let's just go in, and—"

"Lini," Isaac interrupted, eyes wide. He didn't think that he'd blinked for perhaps five minutes.

"What, kupo?"

"I can't take this," he told her, touching the amethyst pommel of the blade. The pleasant lightness filled him, and he shuddered at the feeling. However, he tore his attention away from it, to focus on her again. "This is _your _blade, kupo. You've been devoting your entire life to this! I can't just—"

"Yes, you can, Isaac," she said, exasperated. "The official recorded words of Lini the Mogknight were that his descendants could only wield the Avuirs once both were found. One isn't allowed. Besides," she shrugged, "I don't know how to fight with two weapons at once, kupo."

"But…" he protested, searching for a reason to refuse the blade.

"That blade _chose _you, Isaac," she told him, her eyes hard now. "If I were meant to hold it, _I _would have recovered it, kupo. Seeing as it was specifically _you _who laid your paw upon it first and rescued it from its position, at great personal risk, that blade is now yours."

She held his eyes for a moment. Then, she broke away, and opened the door.

Isaac followed her, out into the main dining area. It was quite small, with only enough room for about five tables and the bar. Seated at one of these round tables were Montblanc, July, and Thomas. They all glanced up when the two of them walked in, and all of them stared. Isaac noticed all of their eyes wander at least once to the hilt at his hip, and suddenly, he found himself dreading their reactions. Particularly July's.

However, when the two of them sat at the table, none of them even mentioned it. Lini, apparently, had already told them what she was planning. There was a curious look on July's face, and Thomas seemed to be trying to avoid looking at him. Montblanc had a blank look on his face, and was looking straight ahead.

After a moment or two's awkward silence, Isaac asked, "So, uh, what's the news, kupo?"

"Well…" July began, stuttering.

"The third Totema has fallen, kupo," Montblanc blurted out.

Another moment or so of awkwardness followed this statement. Then, Isaac said, "Uh, sorry, kupo?"

"Lindsay, Caitlin, and Pallanza managed to find another one of the seams which lead to them, kupo," he explained. "The three of them, with Marche, Guinness, and Robert, managed to bring him down."

Once again, awkwardness. All five of them simply sat there for a time. Then, Isaac asked, "So what are we doing next, kupo?"

"Is it not obvious, kupo?" July asked, and Isaac was surprised by her tone. He would've expected it to be condescending. But no, it was… joking. Kind, even. "We are going to recover the Avuir Red."

"That simple?" Isaac asked.

"Well, what did you expect, kupo?" she asked. "It's what we're here for."

"Thought you could just take your blade and leave, kupo?" Montblanc said, regaining a bit of his good humour.

"Besides," Lini added, "red always did look better on me than blue."

"We're not leaving, kupo," Thomas stated, and silence suddenly reigned between all of them. The four of them had apparently spoken about this already as well, Isaac realised. He had missed out on a lot.

"Thomas…" Montblanc started.

"Sorry, but _I'm_ not leaving until Carl shows up, kupo," he stated.

"He will not show up, kupo," July told him. "Those are some of the best hunters in Ivalice. They will never just let him escape."

"I don't care, kupo," he muttered. "I'm not leaving him alone out here."

"It's not a matter of leaving him," Montblanc countered. "We know that Cheney and his group were hired by Eric. So long as the five of us keep searching for the second blade, kupo, and Isaac is carrying the first blade, we'll be like the flame to their moths. They'll come to us, and we can follow their trail back…"

"But what if they kill him, kupo?" Thomas replied, shaking his head. "Then there won't be a trail to follow, will there?"

"Thomas, you don't understand," Lini said. "We don't have another optio—"

"Then go on without me, kupo," the juggler said, resolutely. "You guys can do without me for a few weeks. Then Carl and I will catch up with you."

"We really can't do without you, though. If the last blade was anything to show for it, this is going to take everybody we have, kupo!"

"Well—!"

"I hate to break up this discussion, kupo," Isaac said loudly, and they all looked over to him. His eyes were fixed on the window of the pub, which was letting the autumn evening's light into the otherwise murky club. "But I think our problem has just been solved."

They all looked out the window. Four sets of eyes widened at the same time, staring at the small, grey, limping figure that was making its lilting way towards the pub. They remained staring for quite a while. Then, all five of them jumped up and ran towards the door.

They spilled out of the pub, and ran the distance towards Carl at full tilt. Isaac even tripped over once in the muddy earth, but he quickly got back up to his feet and followed after the others.

The old moogle stopped walking to watch their approach. They all halted directly in front of him, and not a word was said for a few minutes.

Finally, after an eternity, Carl raised an eyebrow, and asked, "Uh… were yeh plannin' on greetin' me?"

"How in Ivalice…?"

"You're alive!"

"This is amazing, kupo!"

All of these, however, were drowned out suddenly as Thomas took one slow step towards his teacher. All of them stared as he closed the short distance between them, and waited several seconds.

Then, he drew his fist back and punched him in the face. Carl fell over backwards into the mud, and Thomas was instantly kneeling on Carl's chest, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and shaking him back and forth.

Isaac started taking a step forward, but Lini's arm across his chest stopped him. He looked at her sideways, and she simply shook her head.

"…have _any_ idea how freaking worried I was, dammit! I've barely slept the last few nights, kupo! And then you just walk in like absolutely nothing's happened, and expect me to be all happy for you 'cause you survived, and—"

"Er, Thomas?" Carl wheezed, his voice rocking with Thomas' shakes. "I'm thrilled yer happy teh see me, but if yeh keep shakin' me like that, I might not be here too much longer, kupo!"

"What?" Thomas asked, dropping him back down. He looked down at his paws, and yelped, "HOLY MOTHER OF FAMFRIT! YOU'RE BLEEDING FOR THE SAKE OF FU—!"

At this point, Lini ran up and batted Thomas off of the gadgeteer. She leaned over Carl, and asked him, "Where are you hurt, kupo?"

"Oh, Lini, kupo," he greeted. "Yeh survived 's well, then? How w's the fight with Cheney?"

"Wonderful. Now, where are you hurt?"

He sighed. "Always business wit' yeh. Seein' as I won' get any further without tellin' yeh…" All of a sudden, his expression and manner changed. It was almost creepy, as he began rattling out, "Sir. Two arrow wounds. One in right leg just above knee joint, shallow skim. Limited bleeding, no infection. One in left shoulder blade, actual pierce. Embedded roughly one and a half inch into the skin, forced to snap off at arrowhead. Still embedded, slight infection. Two sword slashes, shallow, across back. One four inches above tailbone, second one inch higher. Both parallel to ground. Very minor bleeding." He stopped after that, and smirked up at her. Then, he cursed, and said, "Sir. I always ferget th' last 'sir'."

"Don't make me set Thomas on you again, kupo," she muttered. "Though it is good to know that you still retain all of your military training. As for the rest of what you said…" She looked over her shoulder, first taking a glance up at the sky. Her eyes caught something and she nodded slowly. Then, she looked over to July, and said, "Go get the White mage we hired, kupo. Tell her to bring a few ethers with her."

July left at a run. Then, July rolled Carl over, revealing the four wounds. While the first arrow wound and the two sword slashes weren't that bad, there was a garish hole in his left shoulder. It was covered in blood, and was pink and puffy with infection. She muttered a bit, then told him, "I won't be able to do anything about that arrow. I could take on the other three, though, kupo."

"Sure thing, kupo," Carl groaned. "Just don' touch th' shoulder too much. _Was_ fine, 'til my student here started shakin' me, kupo."

"Oh, shut up," Thomas retorted. "It's your own fault for getting hurt in the first place, kupo."

"Could you two please hold your arguing for a minute, kupo?" Lini asked in a monotone voice. "It's very difficult to heal when he's moving around so much."

The two of them stopped, so Lini went ahead. She bowed her head slightly, and then touched both of her hands onto the lower of the two sword slashes. Carl winced, but didn't say anything. Lini's eyes closed, and then, suddenly, the moon's brightness increased. It became so intense that, even in the evening's waning light, it cast second shadows for each of the moogles standing there.

The moon dimmed again, and Lini pulled her hands away. Where the slash had been, there was now only a partially healed scar. Montblanc whistled, and Isaac had to agree. Since when could Lini heal? For that manner, since when could she do anything other than kill people en masse?

Lini quickly went to the second slash, and then on to the shallower of the two arrow wounds. Finally, she was done, and she stood back up, shaking her head so that her ears shook. Even as she did so, however, July came up with an old-looking nu mou in tatty white robes, bordered with red. She held a staff in her hand, which she was leaning heavily upon while wheezing. Apparently, the old white mage wasn't used to running so much.

"Thank you, mother Ethel, for arriving so quickly, kupo," Lini nodded to her. "I've sealed the three smaller wounds. There's just the last one in his shoulder that needs attending."

"Alright, alright," the old crone wheezed. "Gimme a minute to catch me breath. Not as young as I used to be."

After a few moments, she finally bent over to examine the hole in his shoulder. As soon as she did, she shook her head.

"You come callin' on me like it's some sorta emergency, and all ye got fer me is a little thing like this? Bah!" she let out a dismissive snort, then waved a hand over the wound. "_Heila_."

A small jet of teal sparks erupted from her palm, and they instantly latched onto the arrow hole. They poured inside, and soon after, the arrow's head was pushed out of the wound, to fall onto the ground next to Carl. The skin knitted over, and soon, nothing was left to show the wound had been there but a small patch of missing fur.

"There ye go," she said, glaring over at Lini. "That'll cost ye a hunnerd gil. Would've been less if it'd actually been some _real _healing work."

"Of course, kupo," Lini nodded. She paid the nu mou, and the white mage left them in a huff.

"She's a barrel 'a' laughs, ain't she?" Carl muttered, standing up slowly.

"Sure is. You should've seen her when we brought her Isaac, kupo," Montblanc laughed, then made his voice go high-pitched in an impersonation of her. " 'Frostbite? Ye call me all the way over to the inn fer _frostbite!?_ I kinnae even do any magic fer frostbite. Ye just need to keep him warm. It's common sense, that.'"

"Good to know I got the best service available, kupo," Isaac shook his head.

"The best service _affordable_, kupo," Lini corrected. "But now, we have to decide what we're going to do." She paused, then added, "Or more like, when we're leaving."

"How do you mean, kupo?"

"Cheney and his group are professionals. Though I'm not sure whether or not they'll keep chasing us, seeing as they've already failed in the job they were assigned to, should they decide to pursue, they'll already be moving, kupo," Lini explained.

"But that means nothing if we do not know where we are going to, kupo," July pointed out.

"I know where we're going, kupo."

All of them stared at her for several moments. It was, to say the least, a bit of a surprise. While none of them doubted her, several of them were quick to ask, at the same time, "Where, kupo?"

Lini was already walking away towards the inn. She glanced over her shoulder, and said, clearly and quickly, "Home."


	56. The Keep of the Mogknight

The Avuir Blue slashed back and forth rapidly, dancing in Isaac's paw as it sloshed through his opponent's gelatinous skin. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, and threw himself to the side as the flan blasted a charge of pure electricity at him. He rolled as he landed, and came back up to his feet. Glancing over, he caught a glimpse of Montblanc, who was currently helping Carl with his couple flans. Great. He'd have to hold off his own opponent for a little while longer.

The six moogles had been making their ways through a small forest, heading far into the west. When Lini had original started their march, Isaac assumed that she would be heading towards Baguba Port. However, that hadn't turned out to be the case. In fact, she was heading slightly more north than the shipping city, and taking some secret routes through the forests that none of them had even seen before she uncovered them.

It was the thirteenth day since they'd left from the small city of Carso, and, unfortunately, their way had been anything but clear of danger. Almost each day, they were engaged by either a group of wandering clansmen, or a pack of some sort of creature or another. All of this fighting had taught them, above all else, one thing:

While wielding the Avuir Blue, Isaac was a force to be reckoned with.

Aside from Lini of course, each one of the moogles had died at least once in those engagements, aside from Isaac. For the past two weeks, he had consistently fought with a grace and style he didn't even know he had. For the first time in his life, he had managed to complete a full flip in combat, and come out of it without even the slightest bit of stagger. While holding that blade, even his gunning skills were improved, as the lightness of his body gave a certain clarity to his mind, allowing him to pull off shots he never would have attempted before.

Of course, this still left him quite a distance behind Lini, as their nightly sparring matches showed, but it did make a difference. His blocks managed to slow her blows a bit more, making for shorter and less painful flights, and his attacks came slightly closer to touching her fur whenever he swiped.

However, all of his physical prowess aided him not the least against a flan. Or, more accurately, against a large flock (pack… gaggle… group… puddle?) of flans. They had suddenly appeared, apparently out of nowhere, in the middle of the forest, and forced the six of them into a very difficult engagement.

At current, all of the moogles aside from Montblanc were busy holding off as many of the flans as possible, while Montblanc himself was bringing down doom on their enemies' heads and avoiding hitting the other members. On the moogles' side, July had barely moved after whipping out her flute and started playing, and Carl had his claws sunk into a pair of blue flans, simply leaning into them to keep them out of firing range upon Montblanc. Thomas had a nasty burn on his left arm as he kept a few red jellies busy, and Isaac had two yellow flans chasing him around as he picked off small hits from them. And Lini? Well, Lini was actually holding her own against the heavily armoured flans.

Montblanc, standing at the centre of the small pentagon they had formed around him, had a black-coloured aura surrounding him. His long, dark cloak billowed and whipped about him as his paws flew from complicated symbol to complicated symbol, throwing fire, ice, and electricity out from him in all directions. However, he couldn't keep it up. The strain was showing on his face and through his laboured actions as he cast spell after spell.

Suddenly, the constant flood of music from July's location halted, and she bent over double, wheezing. She took one more deep breath, and was about to put her lips back to the flute, when a bolt of lightning flew at her, and smashed into her side. The electric charge forced all of her muscles to snap, and she flew sideways. The flute flew in the other direction, and she found herself lying in front of a large, red flan.

It stared down at her, and fire began building in its core.

"Isaac!" Lini roared, and he glanced over to her. "Hold my three flans for a second, would you?"

"Got it, kupo!" Isaac yelled, leaping over to fill the space she had left, as she rushed across the distance to the fallen animist. As she went, her blade began gathering light and matter to it. There was the obligatory moment of silence as she swung the blade forward in one arc, and then energy exploded throughout the flan's body. The thing instantly evaporated in the intense power flow, and then Lini was left panting in exertion.

All of a sudden, in the centre of their little group, Montblanc roared. Everything stopped as they stared over at him. He tore off the cloak he wore, and dark energy flowed out of him from every pore and crevice. He reached up, and slowly pulled his pointed, wide-brimmed hat down over his eyes. Then, he spoke in a voice other than his own, and whispered, loud enough for everybody to hear, "Get down."

The moogles threw themselves down to the ground. Then, he pointed, and whispered deafeningly, "_Schwarz Energie_."

Dark flames shot out in absolutely every direction from the moogle, flying everywhere. Isaac yelled as the shear darkness pressed down on him, flattening him to ground with how oppressive it was. It quickly consumed everything in the clearing that was more than a foot from the ground, whether it was flan or tree.

Then, as quickly as the charge had gone out, it was gone. The judgepoints rained down on Montblanc, and all of the moogles were picking themselves up. They were now standing in a huge gap in the forest, with all of the trees levelled down to the very bases of their trunks. However, they were all fine, so everybody simply set about getting themselves ready to move again.

Or at least, that was how it seemed. Isaac was slipping his blade into its sheath before he realised that Montblanc was crouched down, holding himself around the chest and rocking back and forth.

Isaac ran the distance over to him, not bothering to properly holster his gun in his haste. He knelt down next to Montblanc, whose breath was so haggard that Isaac could almost feel the pain every time he breathed.

"Come on," he whispered, grabbing Montblanc's shoulders and trying to hold him steady. "Come on."

Montblanc glanced up Isaac in surprise at the sudden contact, and in that instant, before Montblanc could pull the hat lower still or look back away, Isaac saw a flash of yellow where his bright blue eyes should have been.

It was only an instant, but in that instant, they both saw the recognition in each other's eyes. They each knew what had happened.

The next instant, Montblanc forcibly pushed Isaac away, and bent over hard, hacking heavily. Blood splattered onto the grass below him, and when he looked up again, his eyes were perfectly blue and sparkling.

Those blue orbs held Isaac's hazel ones for several long moments as the other four approached at a more controlled pace than Isaac. In that time, the two felt a connection flowing through them, and Montblanc whispered, loud enough only for Isaac to hear, "If you tell anybody about this, I'll kill you."

Then everybody else was there, patting Montblanc on the back and congratulating him. Isaac missed most of it, simply staring at Montblanc as the mage nodded and accepted praise, smiling all the while. As soon as he could, however, Montblanc pushed his way out of the circle, and walked off.

Everybody else set about making camp. It was late in the day already, and the battle had sapped much of their energy. As everybody else was preparing, Isaac suddenly found Lini placing a paw on his arm, and pulling him off to the side.

"You saw, kupo."

"Kupopo?" Isaac asked in surprise.

"His eyes, kupo," she explained, watching him as she spoke.

"…What's happening to him?" Isaac had to ask, not knowing what else to say.

"Surely you're not so naïve as to think that Montblanc was immune to the twisting effects that Black magic has upon its practitioners?" she asked. However, there was no mockery, no laughter in her words or eyes. She was serious in everything she said, holding onto his shoulder there and reading him like a book.

"No, kupo…" the gunner said, shaking his head, "but… I never thought of him as an actual Black mage. He was always just…"

"The lieutenant of Clan Nutsy?" Lini finished for him.

"Yes."

"Didn't you listen to him on the first day of this quest, kupo?" she asked. "He isn't just the one destroying the World Threads. He has a destiny separate from that. Those eyes of his are just reminding him of that, of that other identity of his which still needs to be fulfilled, kupo. For the first time in his life, he _has_ to be the moogle he was born to be."

"But who is that moogle?"

"Go ask him, kupo."

Isaac looked over at her, not sure whether to take her seriously or not. However, her eyes were set, boring through him as ever. So, he decided to go along with it, and, without another word, he ran off into the forest in the direction that Montblanc had gone.

It took a few minutes to catch up with the Black mage. Isaac eventually found him by following the heavy sound of his breath. When he did find the moogle, he was standing in front of a tree, pointing at the bark. Every now and again, he would whisper the word, "_Feuer_," and a small jet of burning sparks would erupt from the palm. Each time, he would stare at the tree extremely hard, as though thinking his gaze could cut through the wood, and a tiny bit of yellow would flow into the blue. Each time, however, he would make the yellow disappear again, and a tiny drop of blood would drop from his mouth or nose.

It wasn't until Isaac stepped on a branch that Montblanc noticed him approaching. He whirled around, and stared at the other moogle in surprise. Neither of them said a word as they stood there, staring at each other in mild shock. Then, they each started speaking at once.

"If you think I'll—"

"I'm not trying to—"

They stopped, and silence reigned again. Then, Isaac nodded, and Montblanc started speaking.

"I can't explain it to you, kupo. It wouldn't make sense. I just… my eyes can't go yellow."

"Why?" Isaac asked. "If you wanted to become a powerful Black mage, or any Black mage at all, you should've known that they'd turn eventually."

"It's just that…" he stopped, and sighed. "It's too complicated."

"Is that so?" Isaac snapped, beginning to lose patience. "I'm a human from another world trapped in a moogle's body, kupo." He put special emphasis on the 'kupo'. "Beat that."

"I'm the eldest of sixth children," Montblanc countered. "Six orphans, to be more precise. I was the only one old enough to remember anything about when our parents died. A Black mage did it, kupo, and all I remember is the colour of his eyes as he burned our house to the ground. And in case you were wondering," he added, "_he_'s the one who died with my hands around his neck."

"Ah," Isaac said. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. What was there to say? He couldn't think of anything. He didn't need to, however, because a moment later, Montblanc went on, as though he couldn't even stop anymore. It was simply pouring out, and it was far beyond his own control.

"My siblings and I got taken in by another Black mage. Human. A great man, and a powerful mage in his own right. He taught me about Black magic originally, and also taught the rest of my siblings much of what they know. One day, kupo, while my master and I took a job hunting down a rogue mage. It turned out that the mage we were hunting was the same one who killed my parents. He was trying to summon a great beast known as Yiazmat to serve him. We tried to stop him, but didn't manage it, kupo. My master went to fight Yiazmat, and I attacked the mage. We fought, and I won. That's when I killed him."

He stopped suddenly, his eyes wide, not staring at Isaac, but straight through him like he wasn't there. It made Isaac feel odd, almost like he should move out of the way. But somehow, he realised that he shouldn't. It might break his concentration. He slowly crouched down, and hugged his knees up to his chest, and just kept staring, before continuing.

"Then, kupo, I went after my master and Yiazmat. When I arrived, Yiazmat had already murdered my master. I tried to avenge my master, but it just batted me away, kupo. Ever since that day, I've lived for only one reason: to be responsible for Yiazmat's destruction, before I become the same thing that summoned it and killed my parents, kupo."

Isaac watched him for a short time after he'd finished. He wasn't sure, for a while, about what to say. Then, suddenly, he realised what had to be said.

"So you won't let your eyes turn yellow until you've killed Yiazmat, kupo?"

"Exactly," Montblanc nodded, looking up at him from his crouched position.

"That's stupid, kupo."

"Kupopo?"

"You'll kill yourself!" Isaac yelled. "Do you really think that anybody wants that to happen to you!? How would your siblings feel? Or Clan Nutsy? What about Marche!?"

"I don't care," Montblanc said stubbornly. "I have to destroy Yiazmat, or else I won't be able to live with myself anyways."

Isaac opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly, he found himself back on a rocky plateau, hiding behind a boulder, with Lini yelling at him for his own stupidity. He found all the words he was saying, and all the words she'd said then, matched up perfectly.

"Isaac?" Montblanc asked. The gunner glanced up, to find the Black mage staring at him. "Are you here, Isaac?"

"Yeah, sorry. Look, just…" he stopped again. What to say? The only thing he could think of was terribly corny, but it had to be said. "Be careful. People care about you, kupo."

With that, Isaac walked away. He had to speak with Lini.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Speaking with Lini, however, turned out to be quite a difficult thing to do. When he got back, Isaac was instantly swept up in the organised chaos of setting up camp. In roughly half an hour, they had all of the tents set up, and the food was cooked. At one point, Montblanc showed up again, started the fire, and began preparing dinner.

Isaac could have spoken with Lini as they were eating, but he truly didn't want to in front of the others. It just seemed like something to do in private. Thus, everybody spoke about the same old things; time left until they attained the second blade, how far behind Cheney's group might be, and how Montblanc managed to create so many dozens of different foods from simple travel rations.

After dinner was finished, and they'd cleaned up, Isaac felt a paw on his shoulder. He turned, and saw Lini looking down at him. She jerked her head, and he followed her away from the others.

They walked for perhaps twenty minutes, before Lini stopped abruptly, and said, "We're not fighting tonight. Tonight, all you have to do is keep up, kupo."

And with that, she spun around, and bolted away from him.

Isaac remained standing for several moments, completely surprised, and then took off running as fast as he could to catch up to her.

At first, Isaac thought that he would lose her before even a minute had passed. However, as time went on, Lini slackened her pace somewhat, allowing Isaac to just keep pace with her. He was still several metres behind, but he managed to continue. His body, however, felt as though it couldn't continue moving at this rate. He could feel the great speed taking its toll on him, and, soon, his steps began stumbling, and his body became weary.

"Oh, come on, Isaac," Lini said, breathing only slightly heavily through the heavy work. "Don't give out on me already."

In response, Isaac simply gasped once or twice, shaking his head.

"This is nothing, kupo. You need to learn to go on beyond your limits in crisis situations if you want to survive, you know, kupo. You're thinking that's impossible," she shook her head, managing a laugh through the slight pants. "That's your reaction, Isaac. You assume anything out of the normal is impossible, kupo. I've done it before, Isaac, and I know how possible, and how necessary, it is. The first time I fought Caesar, kupo, it was only through going beyond my limits that I managed to survive, let alone defeat him. When Marche saved all of you from the Worldwyrm's flame, that was him pressing his limits. And when Carl managed to keep on fighting against dozens of enemies in freezing cold, kupo, and even escape his captors. That is what a warrior's true strength is. Your mind's ability to push the body. Now, keep running, kupo."

Isaac did as he was bidden, and tried to keep running. Soon, his joints were burning, along with all of his muscles from his sides and abdomens down to his feet. On top of the hard terrain, Isaac also had all of his weaponry with him: a blade, three guns, and a pouch of bullets. These added a substantial weight to him, and made it even more difficult.

However, after perhaps the first ten minutes, Isaac found a strange calm setting in over him. The pain and discomfort faded away, and soon he found that he was simply running. His thoughts died away, and he was soon nothing but the sensation of movement and feet pounding on the earth.

The two ran for maybe an hour and a half. Finally, Lini began slowing, and Isaac had actually started moving ahead of her before he realised. He slowed down, and soon, the two of them went down to a walk. The two continued a short time, and then the trees thinned out.

Then, the trees ended, and they were in a small clearing. At the centre of the clearing was a large building, a keep, really, made completely of black stone.

Isaac stared at the thing, dumbfounded. Where had _that_ come from? Lini, however, seemed not in the least surprised. She walked straight up to the large, oaken double doors, and pushed it open. She walked in through the mantle, then turned to glance at Isaac.

"Are you coming, kupo?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Wordlessly, Isaac followed. His attention was drawn momentarily upwards to the top of the doorway, where he found a strange symbol etched into the stone. It was a crescent moon, with a blade stuck through it.

Lini was busy lighting a torch from a sconce on the wall when he entered. Once it was lit, they set off. The two moogles wound through several hallways and staircases, always heading upwards. There were doorways on either side of the hallway every now and again. They never stopped, however, but for once. That was when Lini stopped all of a sudden, and opened the door without hesitation. She walked in, and Isaac came after obediently.

The torch's light cast a flickering glow all across the room, which was filled with absolutely nothing but weapons and armour of different types. Isaac's eyes went wide at the incredible display. He hadn't seen its equal in his life, aside from perhaps in the armoury in Jagd Helje. She walked off without hesitation into the rows upon rows of weapon racks. Isaac followed at a slower pace, staring at the moogle-sized sets of armour which were at the heads of each row. At the bottom of each display was a number and a certain crest.

By the time Lini had returned to him, Isaac had barely got past the sixth such set. She had a sheathed pair of knives stuck into her belt, and a tall, pointed, black hat tucked under her arm. She stared at the one set of armour Isaac was admiring, then said, "Beautiful, aren't they, kupo?"

"What are they?" Isaac asked.

Lini waited a moment before responding. "These are the sets of battle armour worn by all the Lini the Mogknights. Obviously, they've all had different battle types and body sizes, so they all had to have different kinds of armour made custom for them, kupo."

"Who makes the armour?"

This time, the silence was longer before the answer. "They're made by the father. Traditionally, kupo, it was the father who trained the future mogknight, and thus they would know best how to design the armour for their son."

Isaac waited before asking his next question, not knowing whether it was too personal. "Where's your set, kupo?"

The silence was once again longer than before. "I don't have a set, kupo. My father—"

"If you don't want to talk about it, kupo," Isaac interrupted quickly, "you don't have to. It was a personal question. If you're still bent up about your father's death—"

"That's not it, kupo," Lini shook her head. Isaac looked at her, completely confused. "I guess you ought to know. I'm actually…" she stopped, swallowed, and went on. "I'm the first female Lini the Mogknight. My father was somewhat of a traditionalist, and when I was first born, refused to train me. He was sure that he and my mother would manage to have another child, kupo; a son. But my birth took quite a toll on my mother, and when I was four years old, she died. She was always frail after I was born, and well…"

She stopped, and took a deep, shuddering breath. It was, perhaps, the most emotion Isaac had ever seen her express. She seemed on the edge of exploding.

"After that, my father was rarely at home, kupo. He was always out with the Ultima Four group, adventuring." She stopped, and actually laughed a bit. "In a lot of ways, that team became an excuse for each of them to escape their troubles. No don't ask," she said to his questioning look. "I shouldn't tell you all of their stories. Only my father's. Either way, my grandfather, who was still alive then, trained me the same way he trained my father. Actually, kupo, he said that I was trained better, because my grandfather had always been off adventuring, and wasn't able to train my father as constantly as he could me.

"He died two months before my father did, kupo. I was thirteen years old. When my father found out, he came back here right away. The two of us were the only ones left of our family, and we'd never got along that well. We buried my grandfather, kupo, and then we argued. I told him that when I was fifteen, he should hand over this blade and his name, as was custom. He disagreed, simply because I was a girl. He left in a huff, and so did I.

"I found out five months later that he took the most difficult mission he could find with the Ultima Four. That was to bring down Caesar and his group of thieves. They went in, completely unprepared, and were slaughtered. My father was killed, and his blade taken. Pallanza and his blade were captured, and the bangaas' Ultima wielder was tortured into madness and forced to fight as a gladiator slave. Eldena, the vierra, was seriously wounded. Only her husband, Cheney the Trueshot, escaped unwounded.

"A year later, I found, and killed, the moogle who had taken my father's blade, and stole it back. Then, I organised the expedition to bring in the rest of Caesar's group. That didn't go perfectly well, kupo; we only managed to capture Caesar. The rest escaped. That was when I first met your friend, Eileen. The rest, however, you know. So!" she said, suddenly moving again. It took a moment for Isaac to follow her. "That is why I have no set of armour. My good friend Carl, however, who acted like a father to me many times, kupo, made me this supremely good piece of protection." She held up her left arm, and her sleeve fell down her arm a bit, revealing the gauntlet she always wore. "I sometimes think that he understands my battle style better than me. I never thought it would work for me, however," she shrugged, "how wrong I proved to be, kupo."

The two of them walked back out into the hall, and continued going along. Every now and again, Lini would glance out of the small windows along the passage and check the height of the moon. This left Isaac alone with his own thoughts, considering all that he had just been told.

Eventually, they reached the end of the passage, where there was nought but a great stone door set into the wall. Lini quickly pressed her weight against it, and the huge door swung open, revealing a new room.

This one was huge, with a high ceiling, and arching walls, which lead slowly upwards to a single hole in the great ceiling. A set of slowly winding stairs went up, coiling around the walls of the room. In the very centre of the floor, there was a huge engraving of a map of the continent of Ivalice.

Isaac could only stare at the great detail given to the land that he'd been calling home for the past year and a half. It had truly been worked by a master of no equal.

Lini glanced over at Isaac staring, and shook her head. It took so little to amaze him. However, at current, she hadn't the time.

"Isaac," she said softly.

"Kupo?"

"We need to get going. Come on, kupo."

Once again, Isaac began following the other mogknight, this time to the long set of corkscrewing stairs. The two of them began the long ascent, neither one breaking stride as they made their way up. It took nearly ten minutes, but they finally reached the top of the domed ceiling, and were standing right next to the small opening to the sky.

At this point, Isaac stopped, placed his hands on his knees, and took several deep breaths. That had taken a good deal out of him. Not just the stairs, but everything else he'd been through that evening, as well.

"Sorry, Isaac," she said, intruding on his thoughts. "We don't have time to rest. I need that blade I gave you, kupo, just for a second."

Isaac nodded slowly, and his paw went to the hilt of the Avuir Blue. Lightness filled him from ears to toe, and he drew the impressive weapon out. He shuddered, and offered it over to Lini. She, however, shook her head.

"I told you before, Isaac. That blade isn't mine to wield, kupo. You have to carry it and you have use it."

"Fine, kupo!" Isaac yelled. "What do I do with it?"

"Just hold it out by the actual blade, kupo, so the pommel is under the hole."

Isaac nodded, and did as she said. He was careful not to cut his hands as he took the sharp weapon in them. He held it out, and waited.

"How long will it be, kupo?"

"Only a minute, at most, kupo," she replied, looking expectantly up at the moon.

They waited. At first, Isaac didn't think he saw anything happening. Then, he noticed the small shaft of light cast by the moon moving slowly. Part of it was already covering the pommel of the blade. Isaac could see a small kernel of purple light building in the centre, and Isaac found himself staring at it in surprise and wonder. Then, the light struck it at just the right angle, and Isaac stared as the light exploded outward and downward, in a perfect, thin, purple beam of light. The two stared as it slammed into the ground down below, and began drilling directly into the floor.

However, as suddenly as it appeared, the beam of purple disappeared again. The two could only stare in the sudden darkness, and simply wonder at what had just happened.

"You know, kupo," Lini whispered, "we're the only two people who've ever seen that, and ever will see it again."

Isaac simply nodded dumbly.

"…And, uh, Isaac?" she asked.

"Yes?"

"You shouldn't hold onto that so tightly."

Isaac glanced down, and yelped, dropping the blade. It clattered to the ground, with several small rivulets of blood staining its blue steel. Isaac wiped his palms on his pants, staring at the streaks of blood on the fabric.

"You should pick it up, kupo," Lini suggested. "Now that you've shed blood on that blade, it's yours."

Isaac grabbed the blade up, and slid it into the sheath at his side. The two then descended the steps, all the way down to the first floor. They approached the map, and stared down at it.

Lini snorted, all of a sudden. "Of course."

"Kupopo?"

"Where else would Lini have hidden Gaol's favourite blade, kupo?" she shook her head. "He was Gaol's closest friend; he would never trust anybody else to watch over his closest possession. So it's still with Lini, kupo, today. In his grave."

They were both quiet for quite some time. Then, suddenly, they looked at each other, and burst out laughing.

"We know where we're going, kupo!"

"It's almost over!"

With that, they started striding towards the door, Lini leading the way through the halls. Isaac's weariness had left him with the good news that they were nearly done. It was almost done, they were almost there.

Nothing could stop them now.

* * *

A/N: In case you guys were wondering, there was an implied "duh duh DUH" after that last line. Oh, and I apologize muchly for the whole disappearing from this story for a while. All further chapters will be more connected. Oh yeah, and...

Three chapters left in the Avuir storyline. Enjoy.


	57. Training in the Rain

A/N: Okay, apparently I lied last chapter. Originally, this chapter and the next one were going to be together. Then, I decided that this chapter deserved to be alone, as a single event. Why? You'll see. So, when you're done this chapter, _then_ there'll be three more. I'd beg forgiveness, but after reading this chapter, I don't think it'll be necessary. Wolfish grin. Enjoy.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Lini and Isaac returned to their camp late the next morning. They had set out with the best of intentions of being back before the others awoke. However, about twenty minutes after setting out, they (or, more specifically, Isaac) got tired, and were forced to wait. Originally it was going to just be a couple minutes. However, Isaac dropped off almost instantly, while Lini actually managed to retain consciousness for about ten minutes before also sleeping. Isaac had been suddenly awoken by Lini shaking him softly, and gesturing to the sun. It was already high in the sky, so they'd set off.

Upon their arrival, there was a minor uproar from Montblanc, Thomas, and July. Each one had told them about how concerned they'd been, and how dangerous and irresponsible the two mogknights had acted. Throughout it all, however, Carl just sat back, a slightly cocky grin on his face. It was as though he already knew exactly what was coming.

Only strengthening Isaac's suspicions, the gadgeteer, when the others were finished, asked, "So, what were yeh doing las' night?"

"We were busy finding the location of the second blade, kupo," Lini stated simply.

Everybody stopped what they were doing to stare openly at her in surprise. Of all the explanations they had thought of, this was the one they hadn't considered at all.

Finally, when Carl decided that the silence had drawn on long enough, he asked, "Where're we headed?"

She grinned, and said simply, "Eluut Sands."

"The grave, kupo?" Carl asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Exactly," she responded, nodding slightly.

It was surprising how quickly people began rushing around, getting the few bits of business still to do before they left over and done with. In a couple of minutes, the six moogles were standing in a tight circle, about to go.

"Before we leave, kupo," she announced, and she turned to face Thomas and Montblanc. The two of them were standing right next to each other. "Thom, I think that you lost your knives up there in Lutia?"

"Yes, kupo," he said, somewhat sceptically.

"Take these," she said simply, passing him the two knives she'd grabbed from the keep. He took them by the hilts, and even as he first touched them, his eyes widened noticeably. He stared up at Lini, and she nodded to him. "Tiptaptwo. Very special knife. It took quite a while for me to find two of them, even in our collection, kupo. And Montblanc?"

The Black mage nodded to her, and Isaac was shocked by how he looked. He was a wreck. It was the only way to describe it. Apparently, the magical blast of the day before was still taking a major toll on him.

"I brought something for you, as well, kupo," she said simply, and then tossed the black hat to him. Montblanc caught it, surprised, and looked at her as though she were crazy. "Try it on," she offered.

Montblanc did. Even as it touched his head, his eyes also widened, and then he looked down at his hands. Whereas before, they had been trembling terribly, they were now perfectly steady. His eyes went back to Lini, and he couldn't speak.

"Does it fit?" she asked. He simply nodded, dumbly. "Good, kupo. Let's go."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The hustle and bustle of Baguba seemed totally alien to the six moogles as they stumbled into the city for the second time in their adventure. Over the past several months, they'd been in the most remote of locations, but for a few tiny villages along the way. However, now, they were finally back, close to where it began. It was so appropriate, in its own, quaint and, yes, Isaac had to admit, clichéd way.

The weather wasn't quite the best; oppressively hot, with clouds quickly gathering in the sky. A storm was definitely brewing.

However, the six were in very high spirits, and after they had checked in at _the Airborne Traveller_, the six moogles took seats in the tavern, which was full of airship captains and buccaneers of all sorts.

"A few days, kupo!" Thomas was yelling, having already drank two flagons. "A few days, and we'll be done this forsaken quest! It's wonderful!"

"You are sounding a bit too joyous for some reason, Thomas," July said, but there was a smile in her eyes. "Am I to take it that you do not appreciate our company, kupo?"

"Not in the least, my kupo musician," he slurred back to her, "but you see, I have a distinct desire to perform something illegal. Anything, really. In fact, I'd start a brawl right now if I didn't think that it would get me into some deep trouble with Lini, kupo."

"Then you've learned something over the past few months," Lini observed, shrugging.

"Lini!" Carl said suddenly, "I've realised that I haven't checked on m' smithy in almost half a year! Would y' mind if Ah stayed there t'night, kupo? You 'n' Isaac could come 'n' check 'er out tomorrow, if yeh'd like."

"Of course, Carl," she replied, then glanced over to Isaac. "Carl's workshop is the place to go if you wish to see the greatest workmanship in blacksmithing, kupo."

"I'd love to go!" Isaac said, enthusiastically. "Especially if you managed to make that gauntlet of Lini's, there, kupo!"

"Sorry for bailing out as well, kupo," Montblanc said. He was pale, and shaky from the several days of travelling. "But this is the only chance I'll get to see my siblings for a while. I know that Gurdy and Hurdy are in town, at least."

"Go ahead, kupo," Lini nodded, then said, louder, "In fact, all of you can do what you'd like, tonight. See people, have some fun, kupo. Just meet back here tomorrow at noon."

There was dead silence around the table for a short time after she'd finished her short speech. Then, very quietly, Carl asked, "Did I jus' hear Lini th' Mogknight use th' word '_fun_'?"

"You may just have," July replied, equally surprised.

"Oh, shut up, all of you, kupo," Lini muttered, rolling her eyes. "I could still kill all of you right now if I wanted to. So before I decide to, scatter, and find something to do with yourselves. And Thomas, I don't want to have to bail you out of prison for some stupid stunt. Go."

All of the moogles jumped up to their feet, and headed for the doors. Only Isaac hesitated somewhat, looking behind at his leader as she remained sitting at the table. However, a moment later, he was pushed out through the door by an exiting group of humans, and was forced to keep on moving through the crowds outside.

He knew exactly where he was going. The exact same place he always went when he came to the city: the main dock of Baguba Port.

It took him about thirty minutes of walking and flying to reach the great tower, and then, he could simply stare up at its beauty, per usual. The dozens of airships, constantly arriving from and leaving on great voyages and adventures just meant so much to him. It really just…

Metal touched the back of his neck. Isaac stiffened instinctually, and his paw crept down to the hilt of his blade. A feminine voice whispered softly in his ear:

"If you move, I'll cut off both of your ears and use them for stew on my ship."

"You might find my ears a bit tough to chew, kupo," Isaac replied, equally as softly. Then, he threw himself forward into a roll. Even as he came to his feet, the blade was already in his paws, and he had twirled around to face—

Tifone.

It took several moments for him to recover from his shock enough to say, "Uh… hello."

She grinned, and rushed at him, quickly tripping him up. She laughed as he hit the ground, then reached down and grabbed him by the ears, lifting into the air.

"Hey! Watch it, kupo!"

"Oh, come on, Isaac," she replied. "I do this to Foobar and Clay all the time, and they never bat an eyelid."

She began carrying him away, weaving through the crowds as though it were normal to carry moogles around with her.

"So, uh, what are you doing here, kupo?"

"Well, Isaac, it's kind of a big port. Hard to avoid, if you know what I mean."

"Ah," Isaac said, feeling like a bit of an idiot. "Right. When did you get in?"

"Just about an hour ago. I left the boys to go and get some food, but I think they'll excuse me not having found any when I give you to them. We're leaving tomorrow in the afternoon, if you were wondering."

"So soon!?" Isaac asked, surprised.

"We're renegades, Isaac," she informed him. "You may have forgotten the feeling after becoming all famous with the Worldwyrm and all, but we haven't."

"Oh," Isaac muttered, annoyed, "you guys heard about that as well, then?"

"Half of Ivalice has heard about it, Isaac!" she laughed. "You helped destroy one of the most powerful beasts to come along in generations!"

"We'd really hoped that everybody would have forgotten about it by now, kupo."

"Isaac, if you think that just over a year will make people forget about that sort of thing, you're nowhere near as bright as I thought you were."

The two approached the tower, and Tifone began carrying the moogle up the long staircase that wound around the outside. There was a second, parallel staircase which went along inside, and was technically safer. However, most airship crewmembers would take the outer path, simply due to their natural comfort with being in the air. Tifone moved easily, even with the added weight from carrying Isaac. On reflection, Isaac realised that she'd probably been the most fit member of the crew of the _Torrent_. She was always leading the offensive in battles, or scaling up to the crow's nest, or handling the occasionally unruly ship helm.

In no time at all, they were quite high up the tower, passing platform after platform filled with ships and crews. Eventually, they reached the platform with the black-hulled _Fallen Star_. Though nobody was on the platform, Isaac and Tifone could hear the voices and see the tips of objects moving about. The viera touched a finger to her lips, then yelled up to the crew.

"Hey, boys! I got us some food!"

"Then send it up, already, kupo!" Clay's shrill voice called. "We're starving!"

Tifone glanced at him, and winked. Then, he drew his hand back, and lobbed Isaac upward into the air. Isaac, for his part, as he travelled in a perfect trajectory through the air, resolved _never_ to let _anybody_ pick him up again. He always seemed to end up airborne.

Isaac landed hard on the deck, rolling on instinct. He went over several times, before landing heavily on his front, face pushed rather heavily into a somewhat dirty black boot. Deciding it was easier to just lie there and wait for somebody else to move him rather than do it himself and find out where he was feeling pain.

After several moments' silence, the boot slowly lifted Isaac's head so that his face was facing upwards. He met Captain Rolf's eyes, looking curiously down at him.

"Master Isaac?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What, kupo?" Foobar asked, surprised. Isaac could hear his footsteps pounding across the deck towards them. "Isaac?"

"Oh, come on, Tifone," Clay called over the banister, "We can't eat him!"

"I cannot think of something as small as cannibalism stopping _you_ from eating something," Eugene muttered, walking over. He prodded Isaac's prone form once or twice with his foot, which prompted the moogle to comment, "I'll have you know that I'm some_one_, not some_thing_, thank you."

"So," Rolf muttered, lifting his foot up. Humiliatingly, after he had extended it about halfway up as high as it went, Isaac was all the way to his feet, and firmly planted in a standing position. "You're back in Baguba for a while, I see."

"Yeah," Isaac responded, smiling at the crew around him. Tifone was just climbing up onto the ship. "I'm on a bit of a mission right now, kupo."

"Pray tell," the captain requested, glancing around the deck. "We're all done with the docking, so we've got a bit of time."

Isaac opened his mouth to begin telling them, but then stopped. "It's a bit of a secret matter, kupo," he explained finally. "We can't let anybody know. So when are you setting off again."

"Probably tomorrow sometime," Eugene responded quickly, trying to prevent the rest of his crew from voicing their disappointment. If Isaac needed to remain tight-lipped, they had no business to pry. "It all depends on how quickly I can find us a cargo."

"That fast, kupo?" Isaac said, shocked. Normally they would have had several days at port before making off for the next destination.

"You forget, kupo," Clay said, shrugging, "the five of us are wanted criminals. We can't exactly stay anywhere for too long, or we might be recognised. Until we manage to clear our names or claim an amnesty of some sort, there's no relaxing for us."

Isaac nodded. He understood from the several months that Ben, Eileen and himself had spent as renegades. "I'm sure you guys'll find something to make you legal again eventually, kupo."

"I'm sure we will," Tifone nodded. "Too bad we wasted our chance to just turn you in for your bounty."

"Where are you staying right now?" Rolf asked.

"We're at the _Airborne Traveller_," Isaac explained. "Much like you, one night only. We'll be leaving at noon tomorrow."

"Alright," Rolf nodded. "We'll meet you there tonight. There's still a lot to do before we turn in, so we should get to it. Eight o'clock, say?"

"Sounds good."

"Alright."

"Let me walk you back down to the tower's base," Foobar said suddenly. He had remained strangely silent the entire conversation, and there was now a certain keenness in his face. "Tifone didn't get us any, so I'll buy supplies, kupo."

Rolf consented, and the others got back to work. Isaac and Foobar approached the edge of the ship, and climbed down the small ramp to the dock. They started down the steps in silence for several minutes, Isaac perfectly aware that Foobar was working up the courage to say something.

"Hey, Isaac…?"

"Yes, kupo?"

Foobar opened his mouth to speak, and closed it again. Then, suddenly, he reached over, and grabbed the cuff of Isaac's shirt, tapping the symbol stitched into it.

"Do you know what this means, kupo?"

"Not particularly, kupo," Isaac said awkwardly, glancing down at the crescent moon with the blade stuck through it.

"Where did you get this shirt, kupo?"

"My friend ordered it for me!" the gunner explained, backing off violently to get out of his friend's grip. "What's wrong?"

"Isaac," Foobar said, almost hysterically, "that is the symbol of the house of Lini the Mogknight! If the current Lini ever found out that you were wearing this, well, then, uh…"

"What, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"I don't know what he'd do," Foobar muttered, shaking his head. "But I can guarantee that he'd—"

"She, kupo."

"Kupopo?"

"Lini is a girl, kupo," Isaac replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you crazy?" Foobar laughed. "I've never even heard of a female Lini the Mogknight, kupo! I met him, about five years ago, and he was no woman!"

"_That_ Lini is dead," Isaac clarified, shaking his head. "His daughter is the new Mogknight, kupo, and I've been adventuring with _her_ the past few months."

Foobar eyed him closely for several moments, clearly not trusting him. "Prove it."

Isaac sighed, and glanced around the current platform of the tower they were perched upon. Then, he grabbed Foobar, and pulled him on the inside of the tower. He went down a couple steps, and then drew the Avuir Blue.

"HO," he began, "LY," he continued, and he ended with a word that rhymes with 'hit'.

"Keep it down!" Isaac warned, glancing around. "We can't let anybody know that I've got this, kupo!"

"But are you going for the other one?" Foobar demanded.

"Of course we are, kupo!"

"Then that's… that's…" he stopped, and shook his head. "Incredible, kupo."

"One word for it," Isaac conceded, nodding and laughing.

The two of them started descending the staircase downwards. Isaac sheathed the blade, and they continued speaking.

"You can't even begin to understand just how big what you're doing is," Foobar informed him. "This is… huge, kupo!"

"Trust me, I know," Isaac shook his head. "You should see some of the things we've done to get this."

"Oh, that reminds me of what I was going to tell you before, kupo," Foobar said, then became serious. "Be careful, Isaac."

"Kupopo?"

"I'm serious." Foobar stopped him, and looked at him hard in the eyes. "You've started courting with some extremely powerful people, and you need to realise that powerful friends bring even more powerful enemies, kupo. Don't get into something over your head."

"Don't worry about me, kupo," Isaac said, trying to smile at Foobar. They had reached the bottom of the tower at this point, and they stepped out into the daylight. "I'll see you tonight."

With that, Isaac ran into the crowds and darted through them before the mogknight could say anymore. Of course, Foobar was saying exactly what Isaac had been thinking about lately. The danger and risk involved in his adventures seemed to keep on escalating as they went along, and the dreams he'd been having about his friends seemed to mirror that sentiment with them. How long could they hope to keep going at this rate? They weren't strengthening fast enough; sooner or later, somebody was going to get seriously hurt or die. What would they do then?

Shaking his head, Isaac pushed those thoughts from his mind for the present moment. No matter what happened, he had promised Eileen that he would come back. For now, that would be his aim.

A drop of water splashed onto the top of Isaac's head. He glanced up, and saw the ominous, dark shape of clouds above him. Great. The rain had started. He would have to hurry back.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Later in the evening, Isaac sat on his bed. He was working on his gun, sliding the cleaner up and down its barrel, and scraping the extra metal shavings off of it. The work helped to keep the aim of the weapon sharp, and its bullets fast. He was just beginning to put the thing away, when a sharp rap came at his door. Grunting and stretching his stiff muscles, he walked over to the door, and pulled it open. There stood Lini, the Materia Blade clamped unsheathed in her paw, looking impatient.

"So," she asked, "are you ready to spar, kupo?"

"Tonight!?" Isaac asked, surprised.

"Tonight."

"But look at the weather, kupo!" the gunner exclaimed, pointing to the dark window. "Besides, I've got friends I'm meeting tonight, kupo!"

"And do you think that an opponent will care about those circumstances?" Lini asked, raising an eyebrow. "I'm training you to fight in all circumstances, Isaac, prepared or not. Now grab the blade, or you'll find this very painful."

"I can't talk you out of this, can I?" Isaac asked.

In response, Lini smashed the flat of her blade into the side of his face, sending him spinning sideways onto the bed. He landed hard, but knew already that the next attack was coming. He rolled out of the way, and hit the floor, feeling the sweeping of her blade over his head. He went straight for his desk, where the Avuir Blue lay, and drew it. As he did, he twirled to meet her attack, but was too slow. The blade smashed him in the ribs, and threw him backwards.

Isaac hit the ground, and rolled with the momentum. He found himself suddenly up against the door of his small room which lead to the balcony, and realised where she was herding him. However, he also realised that if he wanted to make it through the night without several broken bones, he'd have to obey. He pulled the door open, still facing Lini, and backed out of it into the pouring rain.

She followed him, and Isaac attacked. The sound of their weapons ringing off of each other melded with the constant spattering of the rain, and soon the two had their own little symphony playing as they fought along the balcony.

Isaac once again found himself running out of room, even though he was on the attack. Somehow, her presence always forced him backwards, no matter the orientation. Gritting his teeth, he jumped backwards, and over the edge of the banister. While this normally would have been stupid, considering he wasn't watching where he was going, while holding the Avuir Blue, it was nothing. He simply felt himself floating downwards to the ground, watching as Lini's form slowly shrunk in his vision.

His feet touched the muddy earth, and Lini was already in front of him with a heavy squelching noise. Mud flew up at him, but he blocked most of it with the blade, then had to throw himself backwards from a blade swing.

"One of the things that first drew me to you, Isaac," Lini yelled above the rain as she chased him around the mostly empty street, "was the way you reacted when the Worldwyrm first appeared."

"Really?" Isaac grunted, barely getting it out past his heavy breathing. Several people on the street were staring at them, completely surprised by the two magically appearing moogles engaged in an apparent battle to the death.

"You see, unlike most of the others amongst us, kupo," she went on, barely even paying attention to her own swipes and blocks, "you didn't panic under those incredibly stressful situations. You assessed it with a cool head, and took charge."

That surprised Isaac, so he didn't actually block the next flow to his side. As he flew through the air, his mind went back to that time, standing on the rocky outcropping in the early winter air. Yes, he had taken charge, hadn't he? Why had he done that?

"Someone had to do it, kupo," he finally said, as he picked himself out of the mud.

"Think about it, though, kupo!" Lini told him, pressing the attack again. "Think about the people with you! All of them great warriors and adventurers, some of the best of this or any age! Almost any of them would normally be considered more fit to lead in that situation. Myself, kupo, or Pallanza, or one of your friends who you rank as incredibly better than you! So why, then, was it you that took charge!?"

"Coincidence, kupo," Isaac said back, finding a flaw in her attack, and reversing it upon her. Suddenly, he was on attack, and she was back into defence. However, she continued relentlessly forward, pushing him backward.

"No!" Lini roared, glaring at him. "In a few days, this adventure is over, and this will be the most dangerous part of it, kupo! If I die during this, I won't leave you thinking that you're useless and weak, because you aren't! You're quite the opposite!"

"What are you even trying to say, kupo!?" Isaac roared right back. He felt the rain stopping above him, and realised he had stepped under an eve. Great. Another wall he had been backed into. "Who the hell do you think I am!?"

"That's what I'm saying, Isaac! I don't know who you are, kupo! Nobody does, and the only person who can figure that out is you!"

Suddenly, he was up against that wall. He threw one more slash at her, but she blocked it soundly. He tried holding the slash, and placed all of his weight on it. She leaned right back into the block, and suddenly, their foreheads were pressed against each other, trying to force the other back. They remained like that for several long seconds, brown eyes boring directly into each other, trying to cut where their blades couldn't.

Then, suddenly, they each slipped a tiny bit in the mud, and their faces slipped forward the tiniest of inches. Each one felt the sensation of falling, and suddenly, their lips brushed up against each other.

An instant later, both had caught their balance, and were holding their blades loosely at their sides, staring at each other from a few steps away. Neither spoke, and both were equally surprised and horrified for a moment.

Both blades fell from their paws, slopping into the mud, and then, they were kissing, their hands fumbling and grabbing at the other as the clouds and the rain watched above them, masking the moon.


	58. Battle on the Docks

Waking up happy and comfortable was not something that Isaac had become accustomed to in Ivalice. In fact, more often than not, he was in pain, cold, sick, or captured whenever he woke up. However, on this day, there was something about the air, maybe, or the place he lay, which made him feel… happy. Why? He couldn't know.

There was a strange warmth in his bed next to him. An odd pulsating heat, but not unpleasant in the least. As Isaac's paw moved slowly, he felt fur running underneath the fingers, running through his own, shorter palm fur. That was odd. Nice, as always, but still, unusual.

Finally, Isaac's eyes opened, and he blinked violently in the brightness. Morning light was filtering in through the windows, and it took a little time before his eyes managed to adapt. Finally, when he could see again, the moogle looked over and down at the warm something that had been lying next to him, and found Lini lying in his bed.

There were several seconds during which nothing in the entire room budged. Quite simply, he remained prone, staring at her, without his brain even working. It wasn't until he realised that she wasn't wearing any clothing that he was shocked into jumping up and out of the bed.

Now, this only led him to noticing that he was wearing no clothing, so that he was forced too look around for it. Isaac found his shirt, and rapidly pulled it on over himself, losing himself inside it for a moment. Then, he grabbed the pair of pants which were also on the floor, and managed to force one foot through the leg, before a voice interrupted him from behind.

"You know, kupo, those are _my_ pants."

Isaac glanced back over his shoulder, to see Lini looking him up and down with a small smirk on her face.

"Uh..." he began, then stopped, though his mouth was still moving and gasping. Finally, he finished, "Kupo."

"Not to mention, kupo, I've seen it all before," Lini muttered, nodding meaningfully at him. "Twice, actually."

"Yeah..." Isaac replied, slowly letting the pants fall to the floor again. No wonder why they'd seemed a bit tight. "So... uh..."

"If you're just going to say, 'kupo' again, you can save your breath," Lini offered, and then patted a free space of the bed next to her. "Come sit down."

Somewhat awkwardly, Isaac shuffled over and sat beside her on the bed. He tried not to look at her as he did, and once he was seated, he quickly covered himself up with the sheets.

"Oh Famfrit, Isaac," Lini laughed. "Are you serious? Look at me. We slept together last night."

"Sorry, kupo," the gunner said, "but, well, uh, that was, my... uh, my..."

"Don't worry about it, Isaac. It was mine, too, kupo."

"Kupopo?" Isaac asked in surprise, then quickly added, "I mean, don't get me wrong, kupo, but, well, I thought..."

"I'm sixteen years old, kupo," Lini informed him. "I've been far too busy becoming the most powerful mogknight in Ivalice to spend any time in love with anybody."

"So..." Isaac started, then looked straight up at her. " 'Love'?"

Silence. "Yes. You?"

"Definitely."

The two of them kissed. It wasn't as intense as the night before, nor as passionate, but still nice.

"Well," Isaac said, now that he appeared to have gotten his voice back, "I can't say I expected this when I signed up."

" 'Opportunity of a lifetime', kupo."

With that, the two got up, and got dressed, then quickly descended the stairs. The two walked into the pub, and Isaac quickly spied a group of five adventurers in the corner, sitting and eating breakfast.

"Oh hell," he muttered.

"What?" Lini asked, glancing at him.

"I completely blew off Rolf and everyone else last night, kupo."

"Oh, introduce me to them, kupo," Lini muttered.

"Kupopo?"

"I've heard of Rolf Tink before. Quite the warrior. I've wanted to meet him for a while."

Isaac shrugged, then led the winding way through the tables towards the captain and his crew. They noticed him when he was about two tables away, and haled him over.

"I'm sorry!" Isaac yelled, walking up. He grabbed a chair from another table, and pulled it up, offering it to Lini. "I got tied up last night, kupo."

"No problem, Isaac," Rolf said, simply shrugging. "You had things to do. We understand. However, I must ask," he looked at Lini curiously, with more than a bit of recognition in his eyes, "who _is_ this charming moogle?"

Isaac opened his mouth, but Lini beat him to it. "My name is Lini the Mogknight, kupo."

All five of the crew-members stared in open amazement at this statement. Foobar glanced to Isaac for confirmation, and the gunner nodded.

"Lini the Mogknight, eh?" Rolf asked. "I think I knew your father."

"Yes," Lini nodded. "You and the Torrential Flames fought against him once, if I'm not mistaken."

"We did," Eugene confirmed, offering a hand. "My name is Eugene Chalier."

"Ah, yes," she nodded, smiling. "My father told me about the annoying Time mage who kept bringing everybody back during the battle."

"It's what I do," the mage shrugged, tapping his walking stick on the ground.

"Wait," Isaac interrupted, looking quickly from one to the other of the three. "You two know each other, kupo?"

"We were quite the fighters ten or so years ago," Rolf explained. "It was quite popular at that time for different adventuring groups to have matches against each other, just to keep ourselves sharp. Eugene and I, along with two friends, challenged the Ultima Four to a battle, and well," he looked quite embarrassed, "we weren't exactly ready for it."

"Could we get you something for breakfast, kupo?" Foobar offered, though he sounded quite nervous saying it. Glancing at him, Isaac realised that he looked like he was about to have a heart attack.

"I'm alright, kupo," Lini replied, shaking her head. "Besides, Isaac and I have an appointment."

"We do?" Isaac asked.

"We said that we would meet with Carl, remember?" Lini reminded him.

"Ah," Isaac muttered. "Right. I guess we should get going, then..."

"Will we see you later, before we leave, or will you be all tied up again?" Tifone asked, looking at Isaac in a way that could be described solely as 'sly'.

"No, we should be back by noon," Lini replied simply, then got up. "I'll grab your equipment for you Isaac. I think you left it in my room last night, kupo."

She left after that sentence, with Tifone grinning, Foobar and Eugene looking horrified, Rolf shaking his head with a small smile, Clay bent over double laughing, and Isaac experiencing mild level cardiac arrest.

"You didn't, kupo!" Foobar exclaimed.

"He did!" Clay roared through the laughter.

"No, he didn't!" Eugene enforced, then looked over at Isaac uncertainly. "Did you?"

"I did."

There was another round of exclamations and laughter, with Isaac really wishing that light that had transformed him into a moogle would do him a favour and him a mouse, or a chair, or a flee, or... or something else like that. Unfortunately, it didn't happen, so Isaac was forced to endure the comments and laughter for some time.

"You realise that you're sleeping with one of the strongest mogknights _ever_, kupo?"

"Knew it the moment you walked down the stairs!"

"She's as frank as her father."

"_Never_ would've thought!"

"I know, I mean, I didn't even knew they knew each other."

"No, I mean I never thought that Isaac would actually sleep with somebody!"

"I hate you, Clay."

It was a relief to Isaac when Lini finally came down the stairs with their blades and Isaac's guns, and they could leave. There was more than one catcall from behind them as they went out the door, and Isaac had to check just to mack sure that none of their party members were there.

"Did you really have to do that, kupo?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You should never go anywhere unarmed, Isaac. Never know when somebody will attack, kupo."

"You know what I mean," Isaac insisted. "It was a bit..."

"Unexpected, kupo?" Lini asked. "I thought you would be used to it by now. Think about what we've been up to on this mission so far."

The two of them walked on in silence for some while, with Lini directing their way. Eventually, Lini led Isaac towards a doorway on the side of the street, where a small sign hung.

"This is his shop. It's quite impressive, kupo, once you're inside."

"Lini," Isaac stopped her before she entered the building.

"Yes?"

"Are we telling them about us, kupo?" he asked, and he didn't need to explain who 'they' were.

"We might as well," she replied, shrugging. "They'll find out eventually if we tell them or not."

"Still, don't you think, kupo, that it might..."

"Interfere?" Lini asked. "Isaac, you have to realise that I've built my entire life around being an expert in combat, kupo. I've studied it, worked at it, and, in short, I'll never let _anything_ interfere with me while fighting. It won't interfere because I won't let it, kupo. And as for you, well, anything stupid you'll do to save my life now you would have done before anyways. While fighting, nothing is changed."

Isaac opened his mouth to counter, then, from trained experience, realised that she was probably right. "Okay, then, kupo," he said instead. "Let's go."

He reached for the handle to the door, and something unexpected happened. Suddenly, he heard the sound of metal scraping from behind him. Isaac spun around, his paw going to the hilt of the Avuir Blue upon instinct. His eyes widened.

Lini stood, looking just as surprised as he did, with a naked blade pressed against her neck. Standing behind her, with the blade in his hand, was Erik. The man had a pointedly smug look on his face. Standing around them in a circle which appeared to have magically appeared, were four other humans, all with weapon bared and pointing at Isaac.

"Hello, there," the fighter said simply. "You've got something I want."

"Oh shut up, kupo," Lini spat. "That blade doesn't belong to you-"

"I'm the heir of Gaol!"

"Gaol never had any children, kupo!" she argued. "You can't be his heir."

"Quiet," Erik ordered, pressing the blade against her neck harder. A small trickle of blood appeared, winding down through the fur of her neck. "Now, you," he said, looking up towards Isaac. "Give me the blade, or I'll cut her head off, and then take the blade from you by force. Got it?"

Isaac simply stared at them, wide-eyed. He hadn't expected this. Where had the bloody fighter even come from? How had he known that they would be there?

"You're trying my patience, moogle," Erik pressed. "Give the blade to me now, or I kill her."

Without hesitation, Isaac reached down, and grabbed the Avuir Blue by its sheath. Gingerly, he lifted it up and off of the belt, then held it out, hilt first, towards Erik's free hand.

"Excellent..." the fighter may as well have hissed. His hand slowly went forward, and touched the amethyst pommel, feeling its smoothness. Isaac saw the same revulsion he felt etched into Lini's face, but forced himself not to move.

Suddenly, Erik pulled the blade fully out of the sheath, and stared at its length. He staggered back at the feeling, letting his blade slip from Lini's throat. It was at that moment that Isaac and Lini struck.

Isaac spun the empty sheath in his paw, smashing it into the face of a woman carrying a knightsword. She called out, and fell back, then Isaac parried a blade slash from the man standing next to her. Insantly, Isaac slipped a gun barrel underneath the two weapons, and fired a stopshot into his face.

Behind him, Lini drew a judgepoint and the Materia Blade at the same time, and plowed right through the two other guards. Without stopping, she rushed forward at Erik.

Erik, however, had recovered from the shock, and he swept both blades out. Lini moved to block, but she wasn't fast enough for the blue weapon. Her eyes went wide, and she was forced to simply drop to the ground under the attack. Still, the Avuir Blue managed to nip the black tip of her right ear, staining its edge with a few drops of blood.

Lini landed on her back, then rolled onto her shoulders and threw herself to her feet. The three blades rung off of each other's lengths for several seconds, and then a red line appeared along her left forearm.

The two of them managed to keep going for several seconds, before Lini leaped backwards, getting out of the way of a horizontal slash for her midriff. A cut opened along her stomach, and she gritted her teeth, staring at the fighter in front of her.

"I think I'm faster than you now, Lini," Erik informed her, a triumphant smile plastered to his face.

"So it takes a mystical, enchanted blade you had to steal using a dirty trick to defeat a 16 year-old mogknight, kupo?" she asked. "You really are pathetic."

"Sharp tongue, Lini," he grinned. "Why don't I cut it out?"

Isaac rushed in, then, holding the blade that the other man had been holding. He slashed forward with the weapon, finding a solid block from the Avuir Blue. The second blade flashed out, and Isaac rolled out of the way of it.

However, the blade quickly changed direction, in a move that required reactions and strength Isaac would never possess. It came in at his side, and dug into the skin. Fortunately, Lini's paw punched him in the side, throwing him mostly out of the way of the attack. She threw her blade out, and the two of them traded blows for several seconds. Lini received three more small cuts and slashes for her efforts, and had to back down afterwards, stepping out of the way of yet another attack.

Erik took another step forward, however, and raised both blades over his head for a great double chop. Lini saw it coming, and tried moving her blade to attack, or block, or anything, but could never be fast enough for the Avuir Blue.

Suddenly, Erik threw his head back, and screamed in pain. He dropped his second blade, the left one, as blood began pooling down that arm. He stepped back, and lowered the arm, clutching it to his chest. This made it easy for Isaac and Lini to see the throwing knife embedded into it, stuck in the elbow.

"Get up, you guys!" Thomas' voice yelled at them from down the now-deserted street. There were two knives in his hands, one a throwing dagger.

"Dammit," Erik yelled, and then he began running.

"Let's go," Lini said instantly pulling herself up to her feet. She wiped the blood, that of her opponents and that of herself, off on her shirt, and glanced over at Isaac. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, kupo," he winced, holding a hand over the deep cut in his side. He stood on his own, then sheathed the blade. He nodded, and then the three of them took off after the fighter at a run.

Fortunately, the citizens of Baguba Port were used to street fights. Thus, when they saw the fighter with one blade in his hand, and the opposite arm sporting a knife wound, they knew to get out of the way. Even the few that didn't move were mostly moogles, so it was easy to see the human towering above them.

Isaac's paw steadied on the handle of his gun, and he squeezed off a quick tracer shot. However, even in his wounded state, the fighter managed to spin around, send a quick slash out, and knock the bullet out of the air.

"He's good," Isaac muttered as they ran, looking over to the others.

"Exactly why he shouldn't have that blade, kupo," Lini barked at him, sounding unusually stern. "Just keep running!"

The three kept running, their booted feet slapping hard against the packed cobbled streets below. At one point, Thomas leaned over and said something to Lini, which Isaac couldn't catch. Lini nodded, then Thomas suddenly took one step to the right, and had disappeared into the crowds. Isaac had learned not to question these events, however, and instead just kept on running forwards.

As they ran, Isaac became increasingly aware of the fact that they were losing him. Their injured states, along with the fact that they were probably one half of his size, put them at a great disadvantage. Even Erik's own blood loss wasn't as bad as the two of their injuries, in the current situation. The cut in his side was slowly ripping wider with every few steps, and the flow of blood was getting worse rather than better. Meanwhile, Lini's blood was all over the ground behind them, from the five or six cuts on her.

The two of them wound deeper and deeper into the city, always going further into the industrial area. Isaac had no idea where the fighter could be going. There was no way to escape down there, really. If he wanted to get away, his best would have been to meet up with somebody on the outskirts, and escape into the low forests bordering the port. And yet, he kept running, directly and with clear purpose.

After several more minutes of running, Isaac rubbed the beads of perspiration off of his forehead, and glanced up at the sky for a moment. His eyes widened, and he glanced over to Lini, and said, "He's going to the airship dock, kupo!"

She glanced over to him, then followed his eyes, nodding slowly. "Do you know any short cuts, kupo?"

"Of course," he panted.

"Then go," she ordered. "I can keep up with him. You head him off, kupo."

"What about Thomas?"

"He's going for backup, kupo," Lini explained. "Now go! You're almost hemorrhaging there!"

Isaac nodded to her, then broke off from beside her, ducking and disappearing into the crowd on the side of the street. He paused for a moment, then bent over, his chest heaving. He stumbled over to a small stall on the side of the street, and tossed a couple gil onto the counter. With that, he grabbed a piece of fabric lying there, and tied it tightly around his side to stop the bleeding. He nodded to the surprised moogle behind the counter, then began running again. Oh, this was hurting. He had _known_ from past experience that slashes hurt, and that running extremely hard for extended amounts of time was also painful, but when combined? Ouch.

Isaac weaved through the crowds, and passed through one or two very tight back alleys. The pain in his side was only getting worse, and he knew that the fabric was already soaked through again with his blood. However, he kept moving, forcing himself to keep placing foot before foot.

Finally, he reached the foot of the tower, and there he stopped to breathe. He almost laid down, but then he remembered exactly how harmful that would be. He couldn't rest yet. Isaac glanced around for a position to use for sniping, but could find none that really met his approval. Eventually, he simply started climbing the tower, and then pressed himself against the side to wait.

It didn't take long. He hadn't been too far ahead of Erik and Lini at his reduced rate. He simply heard yelling, and he knew that they were coming. Isaac leaned out from the edge of the tower's outer stairs for a moment, just to get a glance of the fighter coming for him, and instantly spied him, rounding a corner into the square around the tower.

_Alright_, he thought, sliding two more bullets into his gun to replace those he'd already used. His free paw ventured down, and briefly touched each of the hilts on his belt, before pulling out the blade.

Isaac waited tensely, paying close attention to the footsteps, as they got louder, and suddenly, slightly slower. Isaac knew that the human had just started up the stairs, and waited one more moment, before pulling away from the wall and letting fire.

It was quick, and incredible. Isaac managed three shots before Erik reached him. The fighter swiftly blocked each one, sending them flying with sparks into the wall of the tower or off into open space. Then, Isaac threw a slash, and the fighter blocked it on the Avuir Blue.

This time, however, Erik didn't have the energy for a head-on conflict, so instead of actually counterattacking, he simply threw himself forward violently, using the magic of his blade to pull a perfect frontflip over Isaac's head. The moogle, miraculously, kept enough presence of mind to try and shoot at the fighter again. However, as soon as the gun was raised, Erik's blade flashed downwards, and the gun fell to pieces. Then, Erik finished the frontflip, and landed easily five steps higher than he had been when he'd started the movement, and kept running without pause.

Isaac stared for an instant, before Lini's voice rang out from the base of the tower.

"Hey, Isaac!" she roared, "Move, kupo!"

Isaac obeyed, and started climbing, as quickly as he could. However, it just wasn't fast enough, and soon Isaac slowed even more from his spreading wound.

"Isaac!" a voice called out from right next to him. The gunner turned to see Montblanc, quickly followed by Thomas, stepping out from the inner staircase of the tower. Both were out of breath, and wide-eyed.

"We saw all of it, kupo," Montblanc explained. "That wasn't human! It was-"

"No time now, kupo," Isaac interrupted, looking upwards in earnest. "We need to catch him up."

"How?" Thomas asked, and the two of them looked around quickly. Isaac quickly spotted exactly what they required, and grabbed the other two, pulling them along with him.

"What are we doing, kupo?"

"We're stealing an airship, kupo," Isaac explained, pushing off of the dock they were currently standing on, and into a small, personal transport airship.

"Kupopo?" Montblanc asked, staring at him. "How are we going to do that, kupo?"

"Cast a speed spell, or whatever you call it, on this thing," Isaac ordered, running over to the helm. He looked closely at the controls for a moment or so, then hit a button or two next to the wheel.

Suddenly, a pale blue light began emanating from the base of the ship's hull, and the thing floated up somewhat from its former position. Isaac hit a few more buttons, not even thinking, and then grabbed the helm. The ship began slowly rising from its position, and the gunner glanced over to Montblanc.

"Have you cast that spell yet, kupo?"

"Yes, Isaac, but what are you thinkin-?"

"Shut up," Isaac councelled, "and hold on tight."

He hit one more button, turned the wheel, and then they were flying.

The three moogles all fell back slightly as the ship jerked into sudden movement, at a speed they hadn't expected. Isaac held onto the helm, and Thomas was agile enough to stay on his feet, but Montblanc fell back against the rear support bar, and smacked his head. He hit the floor, knocked unconscious by the force of his impact.

"Thomas!" Isaac yelled over the rush of wind.

"Kupopo?"

"I need you to find him for me. We could shoot right by his ship at this rate!"

"Got it, kupo!"

Isaac angled the ship upwards, as sharply as he dared, and Thomas leaned over to the port bannister, scanning the staircase for the elusive fighter. Up and up they went, climbing quickly and dizzyingly around the tower in a steep spiral.

"Isaac!"

"You see him, kupo?" the gunner asked.

"Yeah, right over there!" Thomas called back, pointing.

Isaac followed the juggler's finger, and saw Erik, already halfway borded onto a mid-sized, two masted schooner. The judge they'd summoned earlier had already jumped up onto it, knowing this battle wasn't over yet. The gunner swore, and pulled away from the tower. He killed their ascension, and then swerved backwards, heading straight at the other ship. It, however, was already lifting off, and was gaining speed.

Their ship was moving faster, though, and Isaac quickly realised it. The gunner grinned, and leaned forward, feeling the thrill of the chase taking him.

Then, quite suddenly, their ship dropped drastically in speed. Both Isaac and Thomas looked around in confusion, before realising that the spell Montblanc had cast was wearing off. The mage himself was still knocked out, and so they had no way of powering it back up.

The two looked up, and saw the other ship, no more than three metres away, and now moving much faster.

Isaac looked over to Thomas. "Could you jump that, kupo?"

"Never, kupo," Thomas replied, shaking his head. "You'll have to fly it."

"Right," Isaac muttered, handing the helm over to the juggler. He went over to the rail, and crouched there, no weapons out. He'd need both paws to grab onto the ship, and pull himself inside.

"You ready, kupo?" Thomas asked.

"Yeah," Isaac replied, nodding, and then he leapt.

There was a dizzying moment of vertigo as he hung out in open air for a moment. Then, he was moving forward, carried by his wings, and approaching the ship's hull. It was then that Isaac realised that he'd gravely miscalculated. He was far too low to ever grab onto the bannister. How had he ever expected to? He would just hit against the hull, then fall the several hundred metres to the earth far below.

Something whizzed by Isaac's head, and thunked into the wood of the hull. Isaac stared, and saw a throwing knife embedded there. Then, another followed it, and slammed in slightly higher. The gunner lunged, and grabbed onto the two weapons, using them as handholds. He glanced over his shoulder, in time to see Thomas, steering with one hand, throw another knife, once again, slightly higher. There eyes met, and they nodded.

Isaac began climbing, moving slowly upward as each knife made a new step on his path. Soon, he was just below the bannister. The gunner took a deep breath. This was it. The slash in his side was hurting like crazy, and Isaac knew that his only option would be to take the blade as soon as he was up there, then jump off the side. He'd never survive an all-out battle.

With that thought, he pulled himself up by the last handhold, and popped his head and upper torso over the edge of the deck.

Isaac's eyes widened in surprise, as the wiry form of Carl slowly knelt down in front of him, with several member's of Erik's band behind him.

"Sorry 'bout this, Isaac," the gadgeteer said, and truly he looked it. "I ain't got another choice."

Isaac opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly, Carl delivered a vicious uppercut to his chin. As the fist connected, Carl let the long blades of his knuckles out of their handles, and stab up through the gunner's skull.

With that, Isaac fell backwards into darkness.


	59. A Night in the Desert

_The world was exploding around him. That was the only way to describe it. One after another, every inch of everything around him would shatter and fly off in cutting shards. He could feel the dozens of small injuries covering his person from head to toe. He had to get out of there! It was too much for him! One person alone could never pull this off. How had he ever hoped to? But then again, that would mean dragging them into this, and one thing was for sure: his friends were the last people he wanted to have dragged into this mess. It was bad enough to bring them here once on his part. Twice was completely inexcusable. He would have to find a way. Noticing a possible escape route, he took a deep breath. His feet touched—_

_Nothing in the world had prepared him for this. This strange duality of mind, body, and spirit. When they'd first told him about this ritual passing, this incredible power, he'd been afraid. But this… it was so much more. The One had told him right. It was the greatest gift he could ever be given. And now, oh, now he had to put this gift to its fullest use, and do what was required of him to protect this world he loved. His own corner of the world would be the first to fall if he didn't do what was required, and then the rest would no doubt follow. It was do and live. No die option. Not this time, at least. Grinning, he realised that he would probably be late getting back to the others. Oh well, they'd understand. But he couldn't wait to touch—_

_The final conflict. This would be it. He would simply do this one task, and then leave all of them behind. He hadn't wanted to join back up with them; in fact, he hadn't known that he _had _been joined up with them at all a couple months ago. But it couldn't be helped. They had been thinking that they would all have pasts in this new world; apparently, they had been right. He didn't understand why these people were so determined about doing this. It seemed so irrelevant to him. Still, them humans could be weird sometimes. He stopped himself. Humans? So, he wasn't even thinking of himself as human, anymore? Very odd. Still, upward and onward. Time to do battle. He reached for the extra strength in himself, touching—_

_This would be it. His last chance. One final gambit of power, and then he would be through, and that would be it. No more for him, just death and silence. It didn't matter; there were far more important things at hand. He was left with the knowledge of what would happen should he fail, and that was far too much for him to bear. All of his friends would no doubt follow in this final, desperate path, and one by one die. It was all that he could do for the four of them, and, hopefully, for everyone else. Still, he wished they were there, so he could see them one last time, and maybe touch—_

Isaac awoke with a start, wide-eyed and panting. He was lying on a hard surface, and very uncomfortably, on his side. All his muscles seemed stiff, like he'd been in that position for a few minutes.

"He's awake, kupo," a voice nearby announced. Isaac glanced upwards, and saw July crouching down next to him. She was in her full battle gear, with all of the instruments attached. There was an odd seriousness in her face that was beyond was normally there.

"What's going on?" Isaac asked, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. He noticed that he was lying in the middle of a street, with several members of the city guard standing around and holding back crowds. He finally stood up, and looked around.

Standing around in the blocked off area were July, Thomas, Montblanc, and July. They all looked more serious than he'd seen them throughout all of the dangers they'd faced together. But where was Carl…?

"Oh," Isaac said, memory flying back to him, "right. Crap."

"He was against us the entire time, kupo," Montblanc nodded. "We went to check out his factory while you were still down."

"What'd you find out?"

"He's been associating with Erik's group since the first time we came here, kupo," Thomas spat. Isaac noted that he had one of those new knives out, and was twirling it around his right paw furiously. He growled. "He just kept selling us out, everywhere we went, he'd send him a message."

Isaac brushed himself off, feeling angry and betrayed. How had Carl done this? He glanced back to where he had fallen, and his eyes widened slightly. "Did I make that, kupo?"

"You fell quite a way," July shrugged.

Several of the cobblestones were broken free from their positions, so that there was a small crater in the ground of smashed and missing stones.

"It was actually quite disgusting," the animist went on. "When the four of us got here you had not yet been healed, kupo, and, well…"

"Please don't describe it to me," Isaac requested. "I really never want to know what my innards look like."

The five moogles stood around awkwardly for a short time, staring at the street. Finally, Montblanc asked the question on all of their minds.

"What do we do now, kupo?"

"Now," Lini said, and all four looked up at her in surprise. Her voice was low, and her words hard. "We roll out, kupo. We head for the desert, and try to beat Erik and that traitor there. The first of you who come to Carl can take him down, in _or_ out of engagement." Isaac winced. "Erik's mine, though."

"We'll never keep up with them if we're going on foot and they're taking an airship, kupo!" Thomas pointed out.

"I've dealt with that, as best as I can," Lini muttered. "Isaac, your friends were here earlier. They said that as soon as they were ready, they'd follow after us. It'll take them at least a day, though, because of this whole event, kupo."

Everyone nodded, and, as one, they left. They walked right through the police line, with Lini at their head. All of the people pressing for a look instantly got out of the way of the strong mogknight, and then the five had left the square.

It took them little time to leave the city. The other four had already packed up everything by the time Isaac had awoken, and so they simply had to walk out of the front gates in the city wall. It was already late afternoon, and they managed to put in several long hours of uninterrupted travel. That night, the five made a quick camp, and each went to sleep without speaking. Isaac and Lini didn't even have their duel, each too focused on the inevitable coming battle.

However, Lini did approach Isaac that night. It was after their quick dinner, when the others had already gone to sleep in their tents. Isaac was sitting up for the first watch, poking at the dying embers of the fire. He was just remembering when he had sat with Carl in the same situation, speaking about his life, when Lini stepped out of the darkness to sit beside him.

"Why did you give him the blade?" she asked right away.

"Kupopo?"

"Why in the name of Famfrit did you give _him_ the blade, kupo?" she repeated. Isaac glanced over at her, and saw a certain look of fervour in her eyes.

"What did you expect me to do, kupo?" he replied. "I might not know as much about Erik as you and Carl seem to, but I do know that he _would_ kill you for the blade."

"And, kupo?" she pressed.

It took about ten seconds for Isaac to realise that Lini was serious. Then, he yelped, "Are you saying, kupo, that some blade, kupo, is worth your life, kupo!?"

"Yes," she said.

"But… uh…" Isaac sputtered, before saying, "The kupo!?"

"Haven't you been paying attention, Isaac?" she demanded, staring his incredulity down. "Recovering these blades _is_ my life! It's more important to me than absolutely anything, kupo, and I didn't give you one half of my life's work just for you to hand it over to sine disillusioned psycho!"

"You can't be serious, kupo," Isaac said, shaking his head, "I mean, did you actually expect me to watch him decapitate you just for some bla—"

" '_Some blade' _!?" she yelled, grabbing him by the front of the shirt, and suddenly lifting him bodily off of the ground. "That's the weapon of the Hero Gaol and Lini the Mogkni—"

"I realise that," Isaac said, finding it difficult to talk from his position, "but I would toss it into a goblin hunting party's latrine if it prevented even a serial murderer dying."

If it were possible for eyes to draw blood, Lini's would have. She said, very slowly, very dangerously, "Are you _trying_ to get killed?"

Suddenly, there was a soft, quiet sound filling the night. Isaac was surprised, but Lini seemed the most startled by it. Then, suddenly, Lini slumped forward, and fell to the earth. As Isaac's feet touched the ground, he jumped back out of the way of her falling body. He looked up, breathing heavily, and saw July standing there with her flute to her lips.

"I shall speak with her when she awakes," she said. "You should go to bed and get out of the way. She'll be fine by tomorrow."

Isaac stared at her, then nodded, and followed her directions. He walked into the tent he was sharing with Thomas, and lay there for some time, not falling asleep until much later.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

When the company rose the next day, they ate a cold breakfast of dried meats, and kept moving. Neither Lini or July mentioned anything of what had happened the night before, and so Isaac said nothing.

They went on thus for two more days, before they came across something extremely odd. The desert sand, which they had already reached from their furious pace, was disturbed in a huge score cut into the earth. It continued for several hundred metres, with occasional lumps of machinery or splintered wood littered about. They followed it over a large sand dune, and there, they found something surprising indeed.

Lying in the centre of a huge crater of sand, perhaps one hundred metres in diameter, was the broken and smashed body of an airship. Its masts were snapped at their bases by the force of its impact, and the hull was broken clean open in several places. The largest such hole was rimmed with black, and several piles of greyish-white ash lay mixed with the sand.

There were several dozen sets of tracks leading round and about the crashed ship. However, there was only one sign of life, lying on the ground a few dozen metres away from the wreckage. Thomas spotted him first, and called out. Then, the others ran over, to gather around Carl.

He was in rough shape. His right arm was clearly broken, and there were scrapes and cuts covering him. Some of them were probably from the crash, but there were others, acute bruises and cuts, which had been inflicted on purpose.

"'Ello, all," he said cheerily as the five walked up. His voice was wispy and weak, barely audible.

"Carl," Lini said, and nothing more.

"Alrigh', 'ere's 'ow 'tis, kupo," Carl said, looking at each one of them. "Sorry I b'trayed yeh back there. I managed teh break down th'engines, and crash th' ship. They can't be more'n a day ahead of yeh."

"Is that all, kupo?" Lini asked, sizing him up.

"Yeah, thas' about it," Carl muttered, then resettled himself so that he was slightly more comfortable. "Yeh kin go ahead, now, kupo."

"Alright, kupo," Lini nodded, then glanced over at Thomas. "Kill him."

And she began walking away.

Thomas looked strangely at the gadgeteer who had been his mentor. Carl met his gaze squarely, and the three watching could clearly tell that there was much being said without words. Then, Thomas drew his arm back.

Isaac turned away, biting his lip.

Thomas threw.

There was silence, but for the remaining ringing of steel on steel. Everyone was staring. Carl, shocked that he was still breathing. July, amazed that somebody had stood up to Lini. Montblanc, disappointed that his friend had taken such action. Thomas, dumbfounded that his knife had missed. Lini, somehow surprised and resigned at the same time. And Isaac, shocked at the reverberations running up his blade, almost making him drop the weapon.

However, one thing was clear in everybody's minds: somebody had to make a movement, and that somebody either had to be either Lini or Isaac.

It was Isaac. He twirled his blade around, pointing it slowly at each and every member of the company. "Anybody who wants to hurt him through me first, ku—"

"Isaac," Lini interrupted sharply, and all eyes focused on her. "Do not do this, kupo." Her voice was very low, so low that they barely heard. "There is only one person who I want to kill right now, and _you_ are not it. However, if you don't back down, you can easily replace him."

"Two blades, Lini," Isaac growled. "You're willing to kill one of your closest friends for _two_ _blades_!?"

"You don't understan—"

"Don't I, kupo?" Isaac snapped. He raised the blade he was carrying, and pointed it at her own. "Tempered steel. That's all it is, kupo. Two lumps of tempered steel. We've got two of them here right now, kupo. Are they worth killing me for? Are they worth dying for?"

"They…" Lini stopped, and looked at him, curiously. "Did you just threaten me, kupo?"

A soft wind blew the desert sand around them, making a couple small currents of grains in the air.

_Oh no,_ Isaac thought. _Sorry, Eileen. _"You told me that I've been holding back, kupo," he whispered. "Let's find out how much."

She disappeared, and suddenly Isaac went flying sideways. He hit the soft sand, rolling hard. He pushed himself up as quickly as he could, knowing that he had seconds before she was on him again.

Before Isaac even reached his knees, she smacked him in the side with the blade's flat. Isaac felt several ribs crack, and he was airborne again. Isaac, realizing that he got no time between hits, tried angling himself so he would land on his feet. He managed, and swung the blade without even looking.

Lini ducked under the swing, and came back up. Then, she grabbed the blade by its dull side, and pulled it from his grasp. She twirled it around, and smashed the hilt into Isaac's face. The gunner flew back, but before he had even gone a foot, Lini brought the blade around and under, smashing the flat into his back.

Isaac went up and backwards, pulling a full, slow backflip. He landed face first in the sand, and coughed once. Blood spattered across the grains, and he didn't move.

"Get up," Lini ordered, throwing the blade back to Isaac.

It landed with a dull thump next to him. Isaac, having not yet moved, could feel all of the eyes of the others on him. He groaned, and grabbed the blade, pushing himself back up.

"Come on."

Lini lunged, and Isaac pushed off with his toes.

The blade whistled through space, this time with the sharp edge leading.

It passed through the air where Isaac had been a moment before, just barely slicing one of the furs on his arm.

Lini twirled the blade in her palm, and brought the blade back across, closer this time so that she had no chance of missing.

Isaac raised the blade, and placed his free palm up against the flat side of his blade's tip.

The blades smashed into each other, and screamed their defiance of each other.

Isaac was forced down to one knee, but the block held, and the slash came to a shuddering, gradual stop.

Everybody stared in absolute shock.

The gunner realised that this was his only chance. He brought his blade around again, slashing it back at Lini. She only just realised, and leapt back.

She landed her jump, and the two stared for a very long time at each other.

Then, a small red line appeared along her cheek, and a trickle of blood ran down.

The moogles didn't move for a while. Neither of them knew what they should do. The other four didn't say anything, realising that this battle was definitely beyond any of them.

Then, Lini stepped forward, lowering her blade. She leaned in close to Isaac's face, and whispered, "Heal him, and then come meet up with us if you can. I won't wait for you, though, kupo."

"Like I expected you to, kupo," Isaac replied. "Go get your lumps of metal."

"Go cater to your stupid naivety," she smirked, and the two kissed once, quickly.

Four jaws dropped as one at that point. Then, Lini whirled around, her cloak flapping in the soft wind. "Let's get going, kupo. We've got a lot of ground to make up."

Lini set off, and Thomas, Montblanc, and July, after one last glance at Isaac and Carl, followed her.

The two of them watched the group of four leaving for a while, before Isaac turned back to the gadgeteer, and muttered, "I guess we should set up a camp then…"

"You seriously thinkin' 'bout savin' me?" Carl asked, looking at him curiously.

"No," Isaac replied, "I just felt like getting the stuffing knocked out of me and being deserted with an injured partner in the desert, kupo, and this seemed like a good excuse."

"Watch it, Isaac," Carl muttered, "I think I migh' be rubbin' off on yeh."

"I certainly hope not," the gunner replied, then glanced over to him. "Are you well enough to move, kupo?"

"What kin I say?" Carl asked, gesturing down at himself. "'s if th' crash didn' take 'nough outta me, Erik 'n' 'is boys decided teh vent their frustrations on me, kupo."

"I wish I could say you didn't deserve it, kupo." Isaac shook his head, then stepped over to Carl. "Show me where you're hurt."

Carl held up his arm, and pulled up the sleeve a bit. There was one, long gash, still bleeding, going from the elbow to the shoulder. Isaac winced a bit while staring at it, then muttered, "Alright, kupo. How did Lini do this…?"

"What d'you mean?" Carl asked, looking confused. "You talking 'bout Mog Aid?"

"I guess so, kupo," Isaac muttered. "It had something to do with the moon, didn't it, kupo?"

Carl sighed, as though he were speaking with a very young child. " 'Something to do with the moon' ? Are yeh serious? Don't yeh know nothin' 'bout being a mogknight?"

"Very little, kupo," Isaac admitted. "Basically, I can use the blade. That's about it."

"Ah, Famfrit," Carl laughed softly. "I never woulda' expected tha' from you."

"Kupopo?"

"Lini taught you how teh fight, 'cause she naturally assumed yeh'd already 'ad yer awakenin', kupo."

"My awakening?" Isaac said, cocking an eyebrow. "What're you talking about, kupo?"

"Start settin' up the tent, kupo," Carl said, shaking his head. "I'll tell yeh while ye're doin' tha'."

Isaac nodded, and started getting out the pegs and the piece of fabric which would serve as their tent. He walked over to the wreckage of the airship, and began setting it up in the shelter of the heavy structure.

"In the beginning, there were two races, and with these two races, there were two celestial bodies: the earth, and the empty space around," began the gadgeteer. Isaac instantly noticed the change in the older moogle's demeanour, and his more advanced and collected speech. Also, he quickly realised that, for some reason, Carl stopped using 'kupo' while telling the story. "These two bodies represented the two races; humans and nu mou respectively. The world was all darkness, at this time, and there was great strife amongst the lands.

"Eventually, the two races appealed to the gods, and begged them for a new form of energy, something new to replace the darkness. This new energy, created by the gods, was Light, and it was embodied in the form celestially of the Sun, and for the races, bangaas. These three races existed well in harmony for many centuries.

"However, they destroyed and took advantage of the natural environment around them without check. The gods, this time acting of their own accord, created a fourth race, in order solely to protect the environment. This fourth race was known as the vierra. Soon after their genesis, strange sparks of light began appearing in the night sky, and these became known as stars; the celestial body of the vierra.

"Finally, there was the coming of the fifth race. This happened quite by accident, in fact; two of the greatest families of the races of nu mou and vierra met in one couple, and their children became the race known as moogles. At first, the moogles weren't counted as a race, due to the fact that they were so small in number, and they had no celestial body of their own. However, as their numbers increased, one spark of light in the night sky grew brighter and brighter on its own. Soon, it was enormous, and emitted light throughout the darkness of the night, unparalleled to that offered by the stars. This body was known as the moon, and it became the celestial body of the moogles.

"This relates to you," Carl went on, glancing over at the gunner, "for the following reason: amongst each race, there are those who are given unusual powers by their celestial body. The first to discover this power were the sages of the nu mou, who named it after their own Totema, Ultima. However, eventually all five races found that they could control this incredible energy known as Ultima. Each race distributes the power differently. However, for the moogles, it is always passed from one mogknight to another, because in order for a moogle to be a true mogknight, they have to be chosen by the moon itself. All of a mogknight's abilities come from energy supplied by the moon. Each mogknight has one moment where they are taken by the moon, and given incredible insight and power for one instant. After that, they find themselves able to use the abilities of a mogknight.

"So," Carl concluded, dropping back into his own slang, "have yeh had an experience like tha', yet, kupo?"

"I can't say that I have, kupo," Isaac admitted. He stood back, and stared at his makeshift shelter for a moment. It would keep them warm from the desert night. Fortunately, all of his own camping equipment was in his own bag that day, unlike normal when they all took turns carrying the supplies. He glanced over to Carl, and said, "So I'm not actually a mogknight, then?"

"'Parently not, kupo," Carl nodded. "But I find it strange. Yeh seem teh have so much've what embodies being a mogknight."

"What's that, kupo?" Isaac laughed. "Stupidity with a touch of reckless abandon?"

"Trust, kupo," Carl corrected, "and a sense of justice in the world."

"I don't think there's justice in any world, kupo," Isaac said, glancing over to him. "All I care about is watching out for my friends."

"But that's th' most basic justice in th' world, kupo!" Carl argued. "Yeh've got such a sense of right 'n' wrong, it's incredible."

"Speaking of a sense of right and wrong, kupo," Isaac muttered, his tone suddenly changing as he remember something, "you still haven't told me why you betrayed us."

"Ah, tha'…" Carl inclined his head. He slowly pulled himself up to his feet, and Isaac helped him into their impromptu shelter. "You 'member what I told yeh?"

"Of course, kupo," Isaac nodded, "If you have any enemies, you have two options: make sure that they're no longer your enemies, kupo, or kill them. I still disagree with you, by the way."

"Be tha' as it may, kupo, I stan' by it," Carl went on. They stepped in under the blanket, and Carl reclined comfortably against the wrecked hull of the ship. "I figured I could kill two birds wi' one stone. Resolve my differences wi' Erik, and prevent yeh from getting yerselves killed searchin' fer them blades, kupo. Tha's all I wanted, really: teh make sure yeh would give up that stupid quest, kupo. Then, after th' Avuir Blue was recovered, I realised we could do it. But Erik, he's got ways o' makin' yeh see his point of view."

"That doesn't absolve you, kupo," Isaac pressed. "We found the first blade, kupo, and we probably would have found the second one without much trouble if you hadn't told Erik about it."

"I realise tha'," Carl agreed. "But yeh have teh realise tha', while searchin' fer them blades, dozens 'f people've died, kupo. I didn't understand then 'ow resourceful and powerful all of yeh were."

"So what now, then, kupo?" Isaac asked. He reached for his pack, and pulled out a few bits of hard travel rations.

"Now," he replied, "we catch up teh Lini 'n' the others, 'n' I try teh make it up. The four o' them alone have no chance 'f beating Erik's group alone, 'specially while 'e's got the blade, kupo. They need the two o' us, too. An' besides," he added, darkly, "my first option fer dealin' with enemies didn't work. I'm gonna have to try the second, now, kupo."

Isaac gazed at the gadgeteer silently for some time after that. All of his instincts told him that the old moogle was telling the truth, but he still didn't want to trust him. How could he? Carl had nearly gotten all six of them killed on several occasions because of his association with Erik. Surely he didn't deserve Isaac's pity?

But he did. As it always seemed with whenever Isaac did something like this, he didn't know why he'd saved him. It had just seemed right as that knife was leaving Thomas' hand.

"Fine," Isaac muttered, finally. "Get to sleep, kupo. Some of my friends should be flying by this way tomorrow. There's a White mage onboard. We can flag them down and catch up to the others. I'll take the first watch, kupo."

Without waiting for an answer, Isaac pulled himself up, and stepped out of the shelter. He took several paces away, but kept himself within line with the ship's shattered hull. It provided shelter from the cold wind of the desert night. Though he tried to resist, Isaac's eyes slowly went skyward, eventually resting upon the bright silver orb which lit the sand all around him. So, was he, then, despite all of Lini's beliefs, not truly a mogknight? He was supposed to have some sort of an awakening, whatever that meant.

"So what?" he asked the moon softly, its light reflecting from his eyes. "I'm probably going into one of the biggest battles of my life, kupo. You have anything that'll make me survive, somehow?"

The moon, however, chose not to answer him, and, so, Isaac simply sat down on the sand, and looked out upon the miles and miles of empty sand dunes.


	60. Right Hand Blade

Late in the evening, two days after Isaac saved Carl, _the Fallen Star_ flew by overhead and stopped to pick them up. The ship couldn't actually land fully; only lower to the earth a bit and hover. When they saw that the moogle with Isaac was injured, Clay came down in a harness, lowered from the ship, and helped Isaac get Carl into it. The two of them watched as he slowly rose up, dangling from the line. They had to keep ducking their heads, as the great propellers picked up the sand in huge waves and threw it into their faces.

"You go next!" Isaac yelled over the roar of the wind around them.

"Right, kupo," Clay yelled back, sarcastically, "and leave you to get back into the harness with a few broken ribs and who knows how many bruises?"

"You noticed, kupo?" Isaac glanced down at his chest. He had bound it that morning, and was wearing his clothing over it. He thought he'd been doing a good enough job of concealing the pain, but apparently not.

"It's what I do," Clay replied simply.

The harness was lowered back down, and Clay helped Isaac into it. The gunner winced once or twice, now that he didn't have to hide it, and then he was off, being lifted into the air jerkily and slowly. If it hadn't been for his own past on the airship, he probably would have been sick. He grinned a bit, despite his pain, and wondered how Carl had held up.

Eventually, they pulled him to the edge, and Rolf lifted him carefully over the banister.

"Welcome aboard," the captain smirked.

"Thanks, kupo," Isaac replied.

Rolf lowered him to the deck, and released him. Pain shot through Isaac's sides at the sudden strain of supporting his own weight, and he stumbled forward. Rolf caught him again quickly, and held him this time.

"Eugene?" Rolf requested.

"I'm a bit busy," the healer called back, who was bent over Carl at the moment.

"Right," the captain muttered. "Could you walk with help?"

"I'm fine, kupo!" Isaac protested.

"You don't look it," Rolf muttered. "Foobar! Help him down to Guiness's room."

Foobar nodded. Rolf lowered the gunner down, and Foobar helped support him. The two began walking away, to the hatch down to below-decks in the center of the deck. They began heading down the stairs, one at a time at a painfully slow pace.

"Hey, Foobar?" Isaac asked eventually, once they were about halfway down the stairs.

"Yeah, kupo?"

"What was your awakening like?" the gunner asked quietly, looking away from the mogknight. Foobar let him keep going for a bit before finally replying.

"It actually happened before I even knew how to fight. At night, of course, kupo," he muttered, inclining his head. "The power came to me when I needed it, and I fought. That seems to be the way it works. The power is given to you the moment you'll need it most, kupo. From then on, it's yours, to fight with as you want to. Why the interest?"

"No reason," Isaac replied quickly. "Curiosity, I guess. I realised after that conversation between Lini, Eugene, and Rolf that I know barely anything about any of you, kupo."

"Well, how much do _we _know about _you_, kupo?" Foobar pointed out.

"Touché," Isaac conceded.

"Seeing as you asked, kupo," Foobar went on, "what about you? When was your awakening, kupo?"

"I uh… it, well, it… I," he stopped, and looked down. "It, uh, well it, uh, wasn't, kupo."

"Yes it was, kupo," Foobar told him, shaking his head.

"How do you know, kupo?"

"You're far more fit to be a mogknight than anyone I've ever met, kupo, and that's including me or the Lini I met," the mogknight told him. "You've had one; you just don't realise yet."

"If you say so…" Isaac exhaled very slowly. He still didn't believe it. He would've remembered _that_ sort of experience.

"Either way, just wait in here, kupo," Foobar told him, pushing the door open to Eugene's room. "He'll be here once he's done with your friend up there, kupo. The trip to Lini's grave shouldn't take more than a day."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The morning of the following day, _The Fallen Star_ came down, and Isaac and Carl were lowered down in the sling again. Isaac waved to the crew as they left, and then the two were left standing there alone.

The grave itself was nothing extravagant. A large, sharp edged stone tomb in the center of the desert. There were a few runes and designs etched into the top, covering slab, along with that symbol of the line of Lini; the crescent moon with a blade stabbed through it. Aside from that, nothing. No words written in to declare it as a resting spot of the great mogknight, no tributes, no statues. Of course, it did pass quite close to the trading routes, and the only way to tell that anybody truly respected this location were the several dried up flowers and laurels.

"They've been here before us, kupo," Carl observed.

It was true, and evident. The heavy stone covering slab had been pushed aside, showing that this tomb had far more than appeared. Instead of a set of dried bones, or an empty case, there was nought but incredible darkness and emptiness, going down for quite a while. While Isaac was staring at this, Carl checked around the entrance.

"It looks like both of them have already gotten here, kupo," he muttered. "Quite recently, as well. Anywhere from ten minutes to an hour ago."

"So they're probably down there fighting, right now?" Isaac asked.

"Right," he nodded.

"Okay then," Isaac muttered, and placed his hands on the lip of that mouth of darkness. "Are you ready?"

"Of course."

Isaac took one, long, deep breath, and leapt over the edge, then fell into the blackness.

Isaac fell a short distance, before his feet touched down on the stone floor below. He carefully took a step forward, so that Carl would miss him when he came down the short drop behind him. He didn't move any further, however. He opened his eyes wide, and waited for them to become accustomed to the heavy darkness. The other two groups would have had mages, probably, and thus they could've made their own light. No such luck for Isaac and Carl, though.

Finally, the gadgeteer's feet touched down behind him, and he whispered, "Alrigh', then. Guess we should get goin', shouldn' we, kupo?"

"My eyes aren't quite ready."

"Don' worry 'bout tha'," Carl muttered. Isaac heard him fumbling with something, and then, a soft yellow glow began gathering behind him. Isaac actually had to close his eyes for a moment at the intensity of the light. He opened them again, and found the narrow passageway in which they stood dimly illuminated with the yellowness. The walls and ceiling were all perfectly smoothed and shaped, cut right out of the hard stone. It went on for as far as the small radius of light showed, before fading to black. Also, even though the blazing desert sun was no more than five metres above their heads, there was an odd chill to the place. It permeated everything, and soon Isaac found himself shivering at the coldness.

"How'd you do that, kupo?" Isaac asked, turning to face the moogle behind him.

"Gadgeteer specialty, kupo," Carl explained, holding up a small coin. It was clear that the light was coming from it. "We channel a bit o' our energy inteh th' coin, an' it'll hold it fer a while, or release it in a blast when flipped. Iss' 'ow we work our magic, kupo."

"Right," Isaac replied, eyeing the coin. "I guess we should get going, kupo."

Carl nodded, and the two moogles started walking down the passageway. Isaac had his blade out, and it kept casting odd reflections of yellow across the walls. Carl had knuckled on both of his hands, and was holding the handles down so that the claws were out to about half-length.

They each became gradually aware that the path was slowly sloping downwards deeper in the earth. At first, this didn't seem like too much of a problem, but after about ten more minutes of walking, they each began to become nervous. Neither could have any idea of what lay ahead, but each was certain that it wouldn't be easy. The only option they had for escape was the tunnel they were currently going down, and it didn't seem like that would be much of an option.

However, despite their increasing depth in the earth, the freezing cold didn't abate. Surely, by now, the earth around them should have begun warming a bit. But no; it remained at the same, lightly chilly temperature the entire way.

"Wait, kupo," Carl ordered suddenly, sounding genuinely frightened.

"Kupopo?" Isaac asked, turning around to face the gadgeteer. "What is it?"

"The cold," Carl murmured. "I've felt this before. It's the same cold you feel inside of jagds."

As soon as Carl said it, Isaac knew it was true. The same frosty atmosphere had permeated every inch of the two jagds he had visited. That coldness of fear and danger, with no support from the judges.

"Oh Famfrit," Isaac whispered, realising how serious this was now. "This is Lini's final test. Anybody who wants the blades has to be completely willing to actually _die_ for them. Before, we always had judges helping us out, kupo. Now, it's just us. And no White magic, either."

"We're on our own, kupo," Carl agreed gravely. "Less' keep goin', then. They're really gonna need our help, now."

The two kept walking, slightly faster now. They went about five minutes before coming to the first chamber along their path. They became aware when the yellow-washed walls ahead of them suddenly disappeared into open darkness. Their grips on their weapons tightened, and their breath quickened.

Finally, they stepped out into the room, and were surprised by what they found. The room itself was quite large, about half of the size of a standard ballroom, maybe. The ceiling was a couple metres higher here than in the passage. Lying on the floor of this room were no less than eight dragons of varying colours.

Isaac himself nearly fainted when he saw them, but quickly got control of himself, and kept going when he noticed the slow, rhythmic breathing which showed that they were sleeping. Or at least, most of them were sleeping.

Two of the dragons were slightly removed from the others. One, a great blue dragon, had a huge gash along one of its flanks, and a deep stab wound in its neck. The creature's blood was spilled all over the floor around it, and there were several sets of footprints leading away in the red liquid. A little ways away from this was a yellow dragon. It had been clean decapitated, and its body was slumped over, the head lying several feet away. However, under one of its large, clawed feet, there was clearly a bloody, furred body.

Both Isaac and Carl noticed it at the same time, and ran quickly towards it. They were careful to keep away from any of the sleeping dragons, and finally found themselves next to the headless beast. Isaac reached down, and forcefully turned the body so he could get a better look at it.

"It's not one of them," he declared, relieved. Behind him, Carl heaved a large sigh, and shook his head. "It's a nu mou, of some sort. Looks like a Black mage, kupo."

"Well iss' qui' clear what happened, 'en," Carl murmured, glancing around at the area. "Erik an' his group got here first, and fought their way through th' dragons, killin' two of 'em, kupo. Then Lini 'n' the others showed up, 'n' July gave 'em a lullaby."

"Then let's get going, kupo," Isaac advised, "before they wake up."

They each got up, and made their way towards the next entrance. There were a few sets of bloody footprints leading beyond, and Carl bent down to examine them.

"Fresh," he nodded. "No more 'n five minutes, kupo."

"We're catching up, kupo," Isaac said hopefully.

"Yep. Less' go."

The two kept walking. The path was becoming less and less sloped, now, more straight and regular. Each one realised that this probably meant that the final room, and the resting place of the Avuir Red, was up ahead. Carl began letting the light out of his coin, just in case anybody up ahead might see it.

Then, they heard it. A voice, very faint, but definite, up ahead. It was masculine, but neither could identify if it belonged to Erik yet. The two looked at each other, and started running to try and get ahead. Each held their weapons ready, and Isaac had drawn his Longbarrel so that he could get an opening shot off.

Soon, the echoing voices began becoming clearer, and they could occasionally catch a snippet of conversation.

"…take the…"

"…can't…"

"…stop!"

"…make me…"

And then, just as suddenly as they'd begun hearing the voices, they saw a light up ahead. The yellow light instantly went out, and the two of them were careful to step more slowly and silently. The voices were becoming more recognisable, and they could clearly make out members of both parties speaking at different times. It didn't seem like they'd fought yet, which was a good thing. They figured that they would act as the surprise attack, and that they would then work to subdue Erik and his group and grab the blade.

As they edged out into the next chamber, however, they were met by something quite different.

This room was much larger; about the size of a school gym, with a ceiling just as high. There were magically sustained orbs of white light in sconces placed regularly along the walls. At the far end, both parties were congregated: Thomas, Montblanc, and July on one half, and about a dozen warriors standing across from them. They all held weapons out, and ready to charge. Standing between these two groups were Lini and Erik, no weapons out. However, they both looked ready to kill each other anyway. On that far wall, there were eight different doors leading into eight separate corridors. Each of these doors had a pale, light blue glow about them, and above each of the entrances was a giant, floating boulder, which was also enrobed in pale blue light. The trap was clear: if you walked through the door, each of the boulders would drop, leaving no way back. Etched in large words above these doors, was the message,

_Congratulations on coming this far._

_You now have a choice. _

_Behind seven doors lie certain death. _

_Behind one lies the Avuir Red and probable death. _

_Behind you lies the certainty of life._

_It is your choice. Good luck, brave adventurer._

Erik was yelling. "Only the true heir of Gaol should take the blade!"

"If you were the true heir of Gaol, you would know how to get past this obstacle, kupo, because it isn't complicated, kupo!" Lini countered. "This is my blade to retrieve, kupo, and you're just in the way!"

Apparently, the two of them had been fighting for some time. Both were clearly reaching the end of their chains, because they were leaning forward, and both their hands were twitching near the hilts of their weapons.

Isaac turned to look at Carl for guidance, but was surprised to find the gadgeteer missing. He glanced around quickly, and his eyes widened. Carl was already halfway across the space, moving silently and nearly invisibly towards the two leaders. Nobody else had noticed him, as he crept closer and closer. Biting back a curse, Isaac slowly cocked his gun, making sure that it didn't click too loudly. Things were about to get started.

"If it's so simple, then I'll solve it!" Erik roared. "I can do this. I can. Just watch!"

"Face it, Erik," Lini laughed mockingly, shaking her head. "You wouldn't even be here, you wouldn't have that blade, and you wouldn't have had a hope in hell of doing any of this if I hadn't done it for you, kupo! You're no great warrior adventurer. You're just a second rate fighter with a fancy blade."

There was a scraping noise, and then metal rang off of metal. It was so fast that nobody even saw it. Suddenly, they both held their blades, and they were pressing against each other. Lini jumped back a step as Erik's second blade slashed down at her, whistling by where she'd been. She spun, and slapped the back of that blade, sending Erik into an over balanced spin.

However, he threw himself into the spin fully, making it far faster than she'd expected. Then, he brought the blade in his other hand, the Avuir Blue, slashing in high at her. Lini had no choice other than to drop from her feet, hard onto her back. The weapon went by overhead, but the second blade, the one she'd smacked, followed quickly in its wake, ready to divide her in half.

Lini brought her gauntleted paw up, and braced her footpaws against it. The blade rammed into it heavily, but the block held. Then, Lini kicked with her feet, using the force to push the blade up and out of the way. She continued with the kick, rolling back onto her shoulders, and did a reverse summersault up to her feet.

The two faced each other for a moment. Then, they each charged again. Both of their groups charged with them this time, and blasts of magic began ringing out. July's music rose above the chaos, the resounding tones of her flute giving an odd sense of calm to the raging battle. Blades screeched off of each other, and so the battle was begun.

In the center of the chaos, however, there were the two warrior leaders, each hacking and slashing at each other with reckless abandon. It seemed like neither had the advantage, but any who watched closely would clearly note the added strain on Lini's face, and the occasionally appearing lines of red along her arms and torso.

Then, Carl waded into the fight. He was a whirlwind in and of himself, blazing a line of destruction towards Erik and Lini. A bangaa tried to step into his way, and jabbed his spear at the moogle. However, Carl caught the blade's tip in his claws, and twirled it around, slamming the point into the rock floor. He jumped up, and stomped one footpaw down onto its pole, ripping the weapon from its wielder's hands. He easily took a step forward, and, removing his grip from the knuckles' handles, cuffed the templar in the head with his bare paw. The bangaa, easily three, if not four, times his size, dropped like a stone, and was gone from the battle.

Carl took a few more steps, letting the blades out of the knuckles again, and came level with Lini and Erik. The two moogles didn't exchange words; they barely glanced at each other. However, Carl instinctively blocked one of Erik's blows with the Avuir Blue, and Lini pulled away from the battle without hesitation. It was as though she expected the movement, as though she'd known all along that Carl would step in at that moment. Then, she took several steps away from the fight, and leapt, dove, and rolled through the nearest light blue-lined passageway. The moment she crossed the border, all eight boulders began moving, and collided with the ground, sending a resounding, echoing roar throughout the mostly empty chamber.

Barely anybody looked up, however. Everybody was engrossed completely in their fights. Between them, Thomas, Montblanc, and July were holding off eleven highly trained warriors and mages, using the utmost extent of their skills and endurance to remain equally matched. And, surprisingly, they were pulling it off. Montblanc's eyes were glazed over in a light shade of blue, and his paws kept making complicated symbols, pointing intermittently at Thomas or the opponents. Several of the enemies were moving sluggishly, and one or two were simply frozen in mid swing or stride. July had her flute to her lips, and was playing furiously. Many of their opponents were looking confused or enraged at her cascading notes, and some swung at the empty air around them.

Then there was Thomas. He was moving far faster than even Montblanc's Time magic should have permitted. His paws were a blur, blocking dozens of slashes and blows coming in at him from different angles and directions, and managing to occasionally throw a knife or a hoop out at the opponents occasionally. Once in a while, Montblanc's chanting would increase in tempo and volume, and he would roar out, "_Jetzt!"_ At these times, Thomas would simply disappear for the slightest of instants, and reappear somewhere else several feet away. After each of these occasions, a wound would open up on one of the enemies, and they'd have to stumble to find their slippery quarry again.

Isaac saw all of this while running to reach Carl. The gadgeteer, despite having but one single opponent, was clearly the hardest pressed. He was throwing punches and blocks at a furious pace, with sparks ringing off from every blow. His aging body prevented him from making the painful drops and surprising dodges which Lini employed against Erik, and thus, he was forced often to simply diminish the effect of a blow, or make a clumsy block which sent him skittering away.

Erik was always several steps ahead of the moogle, often placing a foot out several seconds in advance to trip up Carl's movements. He read the gadgeteer like an open book, and placed each attack perfectly. Much to Carl's credit, very few of the blows actually landed, but the difference in skill was evident. Erik, however, was clearly sweating, and finding this battle to be a challenge.

Carl raised both paws in a double uppercut block of a slash from the Avuir Blue, suddenly, as Isaac was closing with him. He then accepted a shallow slash along his ribs, and stepped in close with the fighter. He reached out with one paw, and closed it around the hilt of the legendary blade, just below Erik's grip. Using nothing but brute strength, he forced Erik's hand down, and delivered a powerful elbow to his forearm. This forced Erik to release his grip on the weapon, and then it was in Carl's paw alone.

The gadgeteer turned, and, with a grim smile of victory on his face, took a step away from Erik, then threw the weapon in Isaac's direction.

Just as Erik's offhand blade came and ran him through from behind with a backhanded stab.

Everything went quiet as that blue blade flashed through the open space towards Isaac. The gunner's trained eyes, however, weren't on the weapon. They were on the long piece of steel sprouting from Carl's chest. There was no pain in the old gadgeteer's eyes; no regret, no sadness, no anger. There was simply a look of cold, grim, acceptance, that this would be his end. His head turned slowly, to look at Thomas. The juggler had stopped in his battle to stare at his mentor, mouth open in shock. Their eyes met for one instant.

Then, the blade ripped back out of Carl, and he fell to the floor in a pool of his own blood.

The blade's hilt came down, and landed in the mogknight's waiting paw. He had dropped both his gun and the other blade, and now both paws clamped around the warm, shaped steel hilt. Isaac crouched, and, in one fluid movement, sprang forward, the blade leading him.

Erik quickly passed his remaining blade to his right hand, and prepared to meet the moogle's charge. Isaac, however, simply swung the blade once, in a powerful, mighty slash, before the fighter was even in range, letting energy flow from his veins down into the blade's hilt, and up to the tip.

A single, long, blade of pure moonlight burst from the tip, rushing through the distance towards the fighter.

Erik barely got his blade up in time to block the Mog Lance attack, and then Isaac was upon him, throwing slash after perfectly timed slash. There was something about his movements that were startlingly different from the moogle who'd jumped recklessly at him in the Sienna Gorge those months before. He was no longer the skilled gunner who'd clumsily weld that blade that was too heavy for his paws. There was only one word to describe what he was, and it was this:

Mogknight.

The two danced across the open space, throwing attacks without even looking to their weapons. Their eyes were too busy locked on each other, looking for a single flaw or flicker of fear. Neither could find it, and so they went on, fighting hard.

At one point, Isaac pulled back after a particularly vicious attack, slightly winded. Erik took advantage of this, and launched a stab in low at him. Isaac, even with his newfound abilities and the enchanted blade in hand, stood no chance of blocking of it. Instead, he closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Moonlight flooded out from his own blade, and coated his opponent's, dulling its edge. The attack still landed, but bounced off of his skin slightly, leaving only a very shallow gash along his left hip.

Isaac didn't bat an eyelid, and came back in the attack. Erik gave ground before him at a confusingly fast rate, and at first, Isaac didn't understand. From what he'd seen of him, and over the little time he'd fought with the fighter, Isaac knew he was better than this. Why, then, was he giving up so much space?

He found his answer sooner than he would've liked. Unexpectedly, Erik stopped retreating backwards, and Isaac stepped too close to him. Erik threw a foot out, and caught Isaac under the chin, throwing him backwards several feet. Then, he bent down, and scooped up the blade which Isaac had discarded in his free hand. He stood very straight, then, and pointed both weapons at Isaac with a malicious grin.

"Are you ready, boy?" Erik asked, and the mogknight knew that he wasn't.

Erik came at him with both weapons slashing at completely odd angles. Isaac brought Avuir Blue up, and managed to catch both of his opponent's edges on it. Then, Erik rolled the blades around in his hands, and they came at Isaac in ways he hadn't even imagined possible. Instantly, several red lines of pain erupted on his chest, and the mogknight fell back.

"Is that really all that you can do?" the man laughed, stepping back and staring as the moogle picked himself back up.

Isaac growled, and lunged forward again, blade slashing left and right. He kept his offensive up, pushing as hard as he possibly could. He felt the Avuir Blue get caught on one of Erik's weapons, and then the second one came in at him with a horizontal chop. Isaac threw his weight, bending quickly backwards so that it passed just above his nose.

He came back up, and took a step forward with the blades still held against each other, so that he and the human were shoulder to chest (or, more like shoulder to lower torso). Then, he pulled his arm back from the location where it was holding his opponent's weapon, and drove it into the warrior's gut.

The one thing that Isaac hadn't considered, though, was the fact that Erik was wearing chainmail. He felt hot pain explode in his elbow, and bent over double forwards. Erik, laughing at the moogle's stupidity, threw out a foot in a swift kick, and sent him sprawling forward, end over end. He ended heavily on his front, and groaned.

He rolled quickly onto his back, and found himself staring up into Erik's face, holding one blade drawn back to slash.

"_Jetzt_!"

There was a flash of light blue, and then, suddenly, a ring of steel. When he looked next, Isaac found Thomas standing over him, both knives held blocking the blade. Not missing a beat, Isaac flung a foot out, kicking Erik in the shin. The fighter gasped, and jumped back, holding the bruised skin.

"Isaac, kupo," Thomas shook his head, "you've gotta be kidding me. Is this the best you can do?"

"You wish," Isaac muttered, standing slowly to his feet. He grinned at the juggler, and then wiped a small line of blood off from the corner of his lip. Isaac glanced over to where the other three had been fighting Erik's group, but quickly looked away from the scene of slaughter. They'd shown no mercy.

"We will join in," July whispered, holding her flute ready to play.

"Save some fun for us, kupo," Montblanc agreed, holding the rod pointed carefully at Erik.

The four moogles fanned out in a perfect square around the fighter, holding there weapons in sweaty paws. Erik slowly revolved, eyeing each one individually, and holding both blades pointed lazily at the ground.

"Well, then," Erik nodded, smiling very slowly. "Let's see what you can do."

He spun quickly, slashing wildly at July. The air bent around his slash, which threw a blade of wind out at the animist. She called out, and dove out of the way, hitting the ground hard. He turned again, finding Isaac and Montblanc rushing at him. He grinned, and drove his elbow forwards. Once again, air expanded outward in a wave, smashing both of them back to their feet with the brute force. Then, he turned, and found Thomas was whipping a dagger at him. He blocked with his blade, and Thomas began throwing rapid fire at him. Erik carefully blocked each attack, moving forward slowly. Once he was close enough, he rushed forward, driving an elbow into his chest. Thomas was lifted bodily into the air, and thrown back about five feet. He smashed into the ground, and didn't get up.

"Is that all?" he laughed, looking around at them. "Is that seriously all that the champions of Lini the Mogknight can do? Is this all?"

It seemed like it. All four of the moogles had used up most of their energy in their previous battles, and it was difficult to move, let alone fight against one of the most skilled fighters in the entire world.

Then, there was an odd noise. It was a sound of contrasts. Somewhat like a soft whisper, and somewhat like an incredibly ear-splitting screech. They all turned around, and saw that the noise was coming from one of the eight boulders. At first, this sound didn't seem to have a meaning. However, a moment later, the great rock shifted somewhat. Then, the rock split exactly in half, and fell apart. The two heavy lumps of rock crashing into the ground caused a good deal of dust to be thrown into the air, so that nobody could even see within.

"Right then…" came a voice from within that smokescreen. "I think that it's time we finally finished this, Erik."

As the dust settled, Lini looked up. The Materia Blade was clearly sheathed on her back, while, in her right paw, there lay the golden hilt, and long scarlet edge of the Avuir Red.

The weapon itself was a perfect match for the Avuir Blue, but that it was slightly longer. They both bore the same purple amethyst pommel, and instead of amethysts, this one's hilt was adorned with rubies.

And then, Lini disappeared.

Erik threw a blade up blindly, trying to block.

There was a terrible screeching, and the blade fell perfectly in half, as Lini reappeared directly in front of the fighter. Erik's eyes shot wide, and he jumped back, throwing a slash at her.

She barely even moved, just leaned back slightly. The blade's tip went by her throat, and the mogknight didn't even blink. She simply stepped forward, and smacked Erik's blade with the flat of her own weapon.

The fighter tried to hold on, and, for his efforts, received a broken wrist.

Lini stopped moving, and looked up at her opponent, eyes cold and emotionless.

Erik panted, and fell back, moving backwards as quickly as possible from the terrible mogknight.

So it was that he didn't even see it when Carl, with one last force of will, reared up behind him from the ground, and drove a fist into the back of his leg. Bones crunched, and the fighter fell to the ground, calling out, as Carl turned and roared with him, letting the blades out of his knuckles. He drove the weapon down, and deep into the human's chest.

Blood flew up, and all five of the moogles stared on, each one shocked by the sudden ending to the battle. It would be about ten seconds before any thought to go over and check the old moogle's pulse, but it was already too late. Even as the metal pierced the fighter's skin, he was gone.


	61. Settling Dust

The five of them stood silently outside of the pub in the early morning's light. None of them could bear to look at each other for longer than a few moments. Most of their eyes were red, from both the early morning, and the several sleepless nights. Without speaking, Isaac, Thomas, Montblanc, and July knew that the other three were constantly replaying the final moments of Carl's life in their heads; the blade coming down, ripping through his core from behind, and spilling his life across that hard stone floor.

They had decided to leave Carl's body where it was. As Thomas had put it, "This is the resting place of one of the greatest moogles that ever lived, kupo. What's one more?"

So, they took his body, and, with Lini using the Avuir Red, cut a grave for him out of the stone floor. They removed the bodies of their fallen opponents and left them out in the sand, including those few who had simply been knocked out. Then, Thomas reverently took one of the gadgeteer's old and dented knuckles out of the tomb with them. Once Lini and Isaac had managed to replace the large stone slab on top of the entrance, the juggler laid the weapon on top. It was a common enough practise; often, the families of more proficient moogle adventurers would lay the weapon of their deceased relative atop the grave, as a symbol of mutual respect between all warriors.

Then, they had left, making back for Baguba Port again. Very little was said over the six day trip back; they weren't in the mood, and none of them had the energy for it anyways. Truly, they'd driven themselves hard to make it to the tomb in only four days, and the battles they'd had within the tomb had been exhausting enough for all of them to use up several days' energy.

The only time that words were exchanged, really, aside from small orders while setting up and closing down camp, came when Thomas finally asked Lini, "How did you know which of the caverns to go down, kupo?"

Lini, immersed in staring at her stew, looked up, caught off-guard by the question. Then, she answered, "It didn't matter which path I took. They all led to the exact same room, kupo. The test was whether or not I was willing to give up everything just for the blades."

"But what about the 'probable death' the inscription mentioned?" Montblanc inquired, interested.

"Oh, there was one more challenge waiting in there for me," Lini said, shrugging once. "It nearly destroyed me, kupo. But that is for me to know, and no other." And she would say no more.

Once they'd found themselves within the walls of Carl's home city, they'd made their ways to the nearest pub, and settled down to rest. They'd been staying there for a day, when, during their second supper in the pub's eating area, the barmaid walked up with a tray laden with more than just orders.

"Here you go, kupo," she said, passing out each of the dishes, and then reached for several folded pieces of paper. "And these have all come for you over the past month. All the pubs have been trying to locate you, kupo, and here you all are, in the same spot! How lucky."

Thomas, July, and Montblanc each reached for one of the three folded papers, and opened them up. Their eyes scanned their respective letters quickly, Montblanc sighing and setting his down first.

"Clan duties," he explained, rubbing his eyes hard. "Marche is calling all of the members in from missions, completed or not. Apparently the palace is in the middle of a clan crackdown, and he wants all of us to stick together, kupo."

"When do you have to leave?" Isaac asked.

"He wanted to meet all of us in Cyril at latest three days ago, before moving on to Muscadet." He checked the date on the letter, and his eyes widened. "They _have_ been holding on to this for a while."

"My responsibilities draw me away as well," July said, not bothering to look up from her letter. "Apparently, three and a half months go by swiftly."

Isaac started at that statement, then mentally added up the time in his head. Yes… Three and a half months. That was about how much time they'd passed together. It seemed like so much longer… more like a year, maybe. But, no, that was all it had been.

"I've got a job offer," Thomas said, chewing a lip and nodding slowly.

Already dreading the answer, and the indubitable repercussions it would bring about, Isaac asked, "Is this a legal kind of job, kupo?"

Thomas, not looking up at the gunner, read over the letter once more, then muttered, "Definitely not."

Both moogles sighed as one, and for once, neither of them was angry over their shared action.

"In that case," Lini whispered quietly, and the other four looked to her, "we should probably prepare to leave for tomorrow. Then, we can make our goodbyes."

The other four nodded, without thinking, and then the five made their way to their separate rooms. Once left to his own privacy, Isaac took off all of his travelling gear and weapons, setting each one on the bed so that he could pack everything up. However, as he placed his sheathed blade down on the sheets, he couldn't resist taking the silver hilt, and pulling it out to its full length. Isaac held the weapon vertically in front of his face, staring at his own reflection in its polished surface.

This weapon… it had seen so much death. It had _caused_ so much death. How was it that he, Isaac Pascal Mineau, some child from a small snow-laden town in the middle of nowhere, had come to own it? Was it like Lini had said? Had the blade chosen him to fulfill a specific role or duty? Was he most worthy, of all the thousands of warriors out there, to wield this enchanted weapon?

He recalled the way Carl's face had looked as the blade stabbed into him. He could see it. He tried to embody that look, give it thought, and give it life. He tried to make it more… Carl.

Had it been worth it? Was the retrieval of this blade worthy of just that one facial expression, let alone its meaning? Was it worthy of Carl's life?

When Lini stepped quietly into his room as eleven o'clock that evening, he was still standing there, holding the blade before him. She barely even blinked upon finding him in that odd position. Instead, she glanced to his bed, and said, "You haven't started packing, yet."

"No, kupo," Isaac shook his head. "I haven't."

Lini waited several second for him to go on, but when he didn't, she simply sighed, and said, "You'd never watched somebody you care about die before, kupo, had you?"

"No."

She nodded, understandingly. "I know what you're thinking, kupo. You're wondering whether all of this was worth it."

"Yes."

Lini sat down on the bed, just in front of him. Then, she reached forward, and pushed the blade away from in front of his face. "Every life is precious, Isaac. You know that I've killed people, kupo, so you might think that I don't understand that. But I do. I still clearly remember every detail of the face of every person I ever killed. In the end, Carl died when a blade cut him down. But how is that any different than dying because his heart finally ran out of beats? This way, he got to die doing something meaningful, kupo. It's small compensation, but it's something. Besides, he led a full life." She stopped, and smiled at that statement. "Let me rephrase that, kupo. He packed so much into his lifetime that it was probably impossible for even him to keep track of it all, kupo. He died making sure that further evil wouldn't come about because of his actions. You probably don't know if you deserve the Avuir Blue. Well, I think you do, and Carl clearly thought you did, and that should be enough for you. He died so that you would wield it, kupo, so don't waste his final act for you."

Isaac looked to her, but his face was far from convinced. "You two think I'm the right person to hold this, kupo. This blade is one of the most powerful weapons we know of. It's meant to be held by somebody who'll do great things for it, and who won't let their personal feelings prevent them from doing what's right. This is a _killing machine_, Lini!" He threw his hands out wide, blade still in the left one. "I'm the last person who would ever kill anybody! Why should _I_, of all people, hold this weapon?"

"What if you're not the only person who's tired of death?" Lini said, raising her eyebrows at him. "Over the years, they say that weapons develop personalities of their own. The Avuir Blue was always the guard blade of the Hero Gaol. Why shouldn't it go to the pacifist mog knight?"

Isaac sighed, and placed the blade down on the set of drawers that were in the room. Then, he sat down next to Lini on the bed. "That doesn't change the fact that Carl's gone. I don't care about the blade, kupo; nothing was worth his death."

"I know, kupo," Lini conceded. "None of you have been sleeping well the past few nights, have you, kupo?"

"No," Isaac murmured. "Half of the time I'm up at night, I know that Thom's wide awake lying next to me. Montblanc's started bunking in our tent after the first night, and he didn't sleep much, either. And those two knew Carl so much better than I did."

"Don't worry about Montblanc," she advised, then added, "or July, kupo. Soon, they'll be with their close friends again. That's the only way to deal with this sort of thing, kupo, by being with people who're close to you. Thomas…" she shook her head. "He'll have to find his own way. From what my sources can tell me, he doesn't have anybody close to him. There were Chaucer and Amelia, who were his shipmates, but they were murdered in the Caesar incidents, and then, after that, there was Carl, kupo. I'd say that the only person he has left is… well…" she squirmed awkwardly a bit.

"Who, kupo?"

"You," Lini said.

It was quiet between the two of them for a good time after that. Isaac made no visible reaction, despite Lini's expectations. However, his face remained shrouded in mystery, and even the perceptive mogknight couldn't read him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Isaac said, "The two of us have grown a lot in the past few months. More than you can imagine, kupo. But," he sighed, shaking his head, "I'm not ready to cross that border yet. It's just… Too much. Too much has happened between us for me to just forget it."

Lini nodded. There was silence again, for a short while after that. Then, she said, "Of course, you have an advantage over the others. They all have to wait for somewhat who cares about them. You?" She leaned over, and pressed her lips against his. In that moment, Isaac lost himself in her, breathing in her smell and her taste, feeling her fur, looking at her half-lidded eyes, and listening to her breath, coming out in short, hard gasps from her nose. She pulled away, and Isaac took a deep breath. "You've got me."

Isaac grinned, and kissed her face.

And so, Isaac stood, now, between Lini and Thomas in that circle. Each of them was packed up, and laden down with their possessions. Their destinations were all in different directions; Montblanc in Cyril, July in Cadoan, Thomas in Sprohm, and Isaac and Lini in Muscadet. So it was that they said their goodbyes to each other, one at a time.

When Isaac and Thomas found themselves facing each other, neither knew what to say. For one mad moment, Isaac was filled with the desire to ask the juggler to forget his job and come join his friends in Muscadet. They'd accept him, if Isaac assured them the juggler was a changed person. It could work. It had to work!

"I, uh," he said instead, kicking a foot in the dirt, "I guess I'll see you around, probably."

"Yeah, kupo," Thomas nodded. "I guess so."

Without another word, Thomas turned around, and walked away from the group. As more and more distance opened up between the two of them, Isaac and Thomas became increasingly conscious of the fact that the next time they met, they would not be on the same side.

The four remaining moogles stood around for a short time, saying nothing. Finally, after several minutes of this, July whispered, "I must be off, kupo. My caravan will be leaving soon. Before I go, however…" She stopped, blushed, and then tried again. "Thank you, all of you, for this opportunity to fight alongside you. I feel as though I've learned much from you. _All_ of you," she grinned, glancing at Isaac, who nodded back with a grin as well. "Goodbye, kupo."

She left, then. The moment she stepped away from their group, she was lost from sight, disappearing amongst the surging crowds.

This time, Montblanc didn't wait long. He simply turned to the other two. "Isaac, I doubt we'll be able to avoid seeing each other again, kupo, so I'll just say see you later. Lini," he gave a tiny bow, touching the gem at the head of his staff to his forehead, "I thank you with all I am, kupo. I haven't found the purpose of my life yet, but then again," he shrugged, "I guess that that would make it boring. Goodbye."

He turned around, and disappeared into the crowd as well.

Finally, Isaac turned to Lini, and asked, "What will you do now, kupo?"

"I'll come with you, kupo," Lini stated simply. "The twin blades Avuir shouldn't be separated again, after so long apart from each other."

"Alright," Isaac nodded. "In that case, we're headed for Muscadet. It'll probably be at least a month of travelling, kupo."

"Then let us begin."

The two were out of the city within the hour, and soon they lost sight of the towering port amongst the low, wooded canopy of their path north. They journeyed for silence for some time, neither choosing to speak. However, the silence of the woods were oppressive, and Isaac still felt there was more that had to be asked, and said.

"Lini?"

"Yes, kupo?"

"Do you still trust me, kupo?"

Lini paused for just a moment in her stride, but covered it well. She looked over to him, and for one of the first and only times ever, he saw a look of uncertainty on her face. She started speaking, then stopped, and started again.

"Isaac, I… kupo," she sighed. "I've never done this before. I don't know how to deal with this. You knew the risks we were dealing with, kupo, and the possible repercussions of disobeying me. But you did it anyways. You put my life's work in serious jeopardy, and…" she stopped again, shaking her head. "I don't know how much I can trust you."

Isaac nodded, expecting this. He'd known from the moment he'd intercepted that knife that things couldn't be the same afterwards. He knew the wonderful thing he'd had with Lini, though it had lasted only one night, would most likely end. Of course, it hadn't, but it was still seriously altered, and definitely not for the better. And yet…

"I don't regret it, kupo," Isaac said aloud. "I would do it again. And I'll always do it; pick somebody's life over your decisions, kupo. It's who I am."

"I know," she agreed. "It doesn't help either that I know next to nothing about you, kupo. To be fair, what reason do I even have to trust you?"

Isaac considered this for a moment. Then, he came to a decision, and asked, "What would you do if I told you that I was human once?"

Lini blinked. She tried to speak, but couldn't. Then, she tried again. "Kupopo?"

"Exactly, kupo," Isaac replied.

And so it was that Isaac and Lini took the long, lonely path to Muscadet together, and on the way, he told her everything.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

A/N: Sorry, short chapter. Still, stuff happened. I dealt with some of the unanswered questions (I think), and I did it fast. See you next time!


	62. Return

The sun was low in the sky as Isaac and Lini reached the outskirts of the forest city of Muscadet. The myriad of orange and red tinges to the sky perfectly mirrored the forest surface below, caught in the midst of their autumn transformation. The two were walking with a small but steady rain of leaves dropping above them, occasionally landing on one or the other of the two moogles. They each wore heavier clothing than they had been for much of their search for the twin blades Avuir. They had each purchased thick sweaters at a small city along their journey north, and had been very thankful for it. Even with the other's body warmth right next to them, both Isaac and Lini felt the chill of the mid-fall nights.

Each one, however, stepped lightly over the fallen leaves, knowing that their months of wandering were nearing their end. Soon, they would settle down in Isaac and his friends' home, and remain there for the winter. Or that was their plan, at least. Both realised how unlikely it was to come to fruition, however. They were each quite certain that they would be required for some adventure or another, probably before the first winter snows had even fallen.

Neither of them cared, though, as they climbed one of the rope ladders leading up to the platforms high above, and crossed bridge after bridge. Isaac knew the way well, though he had been gone for some time, and soon they found themselves in front of the large, carved out home.

"Welcome home, kupo," Isaac said, grinning over at her. Lini simply smiled back, and so the two walked the several steps remaining to the front door. Just in case anybody else had arrived home before him, Isaac reached forward and rapped on the door three times with his fist.

There was silence for several moments, and then the sound of rushing footsteps could be heard. They heard somebody fumbling with the lock, and then the door was flung inward. Standing in the doorway was Eileen looking very flushed and anxious.

"Isaac!" she said, as soon as she saw him, and then, before he could react, she had grabbed him up in a very hard hug, pulling him close against her.

Warmth filled Isaac's body, and the moogle thought, _Oh crap. I knew I forgot about something._

Deciding it was better not to say anything, Isaac reached his short arms around Eileen as best as he could, and patted her on the back. Much to his surprise, she was shaking.

Finally, she released him, and stared him up and down, shaking her head. "I," she stopped, and started again. "Oh Ultima. You're safe."

"Kupopo?" Isaac asked, eying her carefully. "What do you mean? Did something happen?"

"No," she said, though he saw her right hand slowly reach down to rub the middle finger of her left hand nervously. This was what drew Isaac's attention to the small gold band which was wrapped around said finger. A ring?

"Are the others back yet?"

"Jus' me," Jacqueline replied, stepping out of the door behind the alchemist, and nodding to Isaac. Her hair had grown longer over the months, now reaching down to just about her tailbone. Her muscles looked even stronger than before, rippling subtly beneath her skin in thin chords. "It's jus' the boys 'at are taking so long."

Isaac nodded, pretending to listen, but his eyes were on Eileen. The nu mou's breathing was still heavy, and her eyes kept checking him over.

"So, uh," Jacqueline said, after there had been several moments of silence, "Who's yer friend?"

Isaac glanced back, and shook his head, saying, "Oh, sorry, kupo." He looked back to Lini, and said, "You've all met before. Jacqueline, Eileen, this is Lini."

" 'The unnamed mogknight'," Jacqueline said, nodding.

"Apparently, kupo," Lini nodded. "Isaac said that it would be alright if I came and stayed here for a while. Is it alright with you two?"

"Of course," Jacqueline nodded, as Eileen seemed to be slightly removed from the conversation. "Come on in."

The four of them walked in through the entrance way, and once Isaac and Lini had deposited their packs at the door, they made their way into the small space the five used as a living room. It was sparsely furnished, with a few old chairs and couches. In the corner, there was a bookcase, and a desk where Eileen would often study. Seated at this desk currently, however, was not Eileen, but the sage Quin.

He looked up, startled, as the four walked into the room.

"Oh, we have visitors?" he asked, then his gaze fell upon Isaac. "Ah! I apologize! I didn't hear the door. So you're back, Isaac! And—"

His voice caught in his throat and his eyes widened slightly as Lini stepped into the room behind Isaac. She glanced at him, and though her reaction was slightly less obvious, her eyes definitely did widen slightly.

"Lini."

"Quin."

There was silence as the two of them stared at each other for a moment. Finally, once the tension was too much, Jacqueline piped up.

"You two know each other?"

"You c-could say that," Quin stammered. "We, uh… well…"

"We were sort of engaged at one point, kupo."

Silence.

"…you mean you fought each other once?"

"No, kupo. I mean engaged to be married."

"I think," Quin said, his voice squeaking, "the appropriate word is 'betrothed'."

"As you please, kupo."

The five of them were quiet for nearly a minute after this quick exchange. Finally, once it seemed like they would all have to explode or else say something, Quin muttered, "You don't want to anymore, right?"

"No, kupo," Lini said, glancing over to Isaac. "I'm spoken for."

Eileen, Jacqueline and Quin's eyes all widened slightly at that comment. Isaac, for his part, tried to not be offended by their looks of surprise, and simply nodded back to Lini.

"Well!" Jacqueline said, clapping her hands together, "this is pretty awkward. I'm just gonna go get some dinner ready, while the rest of you sort out your lives."

She left, and the two moogles and two nu mou stood there, glancing around awkwardly at anything but each other.

"So, uh," Isaac said. "Explanation, kupo?"

"Right," Quin said, shaking himself. "When I was five years old, Archmage of Cadoan of the time selected me as his apprentice to fill his role one day. He did most of the magic training himself, but he died before he managed to teach me anything about wielding Ultima powers. So," he shrugged, "the council sent me off to work with the Ultima Four so that I could develop the powers when I was ten years old. While I was working with them, I, uh, I met Lini."

"Right," Eileen said, then raised her eyebrows slightly as she added, "and how did the whole 'engaged' thing come about?"

"Uh, Lini?"

"My father," Lini continued, "the genius he was, kupo, decided that seeing as I would never get to use Ultima myself, and I would never be much use as a fighter, he may as well marry me off to a prosperous young spellcaster, kupo."

"That's a bit harsh, Lini…"

"And accurate."

"Either way," Quin went on, raising his hands in defeat, "I managed to master Ultima in a year, and went back to Cadoan. I took on the responsibilities half a year later, and I never saw Lini again."

"Until now, at least," Lini reminded him. "Speaking of which, kupo, it's good to see a familiar face again."

"The same," Quin agreed, and he smiled for the first time since the conversation had begun. "I think you're the first Ultima wielder I've seen since then."

"You're lucky then, kupo. I've seen the full set over the past year."

"How are they?"

"Not the same."

"Right."

"I actually fought Cheney, you know."

"Seriously? I can't even remember the last time two Ultima wielders have fought against each other."

"The battle of Ambervale," Eileen piped up. She looked just as amazed at what Lini had said as Quin. "It destroyed most of the city, and left only the palace intact."

"You've been teaching her well, kupo," Lini grinned, looking over at Quin. "Her memory's even better than yours, now."

"She's right, though," Quin said, quite serious. "The fact that two Ultima wielders have been fighting… it's a bad sign."

"No arguments, kupo," Lini nodded. "We'll have to watch ourselves."

For his part, Isaac was confused. The three of them were speaking about things of which he had absolutely no understanding. He'd almost felt more comfortable when Lini and mentioned that she and Quin were engaged. Soon, however, the talk began shift. Lini and Quin started speaking of different things, bits of conversation about culture in Ivalice which Isaac had no hope of understanding. Eileen, with her experience, actually managed to keep up, and soon the three were into quite the conversation.

The moogle took advantage of the lack of attention to actually look Eileen up and down. She looked much the same as the last time he'd seen her, and yet different, as well. Her fur had developed a tiny bit of grey over the short time period, and there was something about her eyes which suggested… weight. A certain slowness about how she looked from face to face, and an extra depth when digesting information. She'd gotten older, he realised. While he was off learning to hold a blade, she'd grown up.

Isaac, however, was tiring of the conversation. Not wanting to kill the mood, he slipped quietly out of the room, and made his way into the kitchen, where he found Jacqueline.

"Welcome back, by the way," she said the moment he stepped in.

"Thanks, kupo. How long have you been back?"

"'Bout two weeks. Eileen was already back. 'Ad the same response she did with you."

"That _was_ weird, kupo. Do you know why?"

"No idea."

"Great. So, have you had any news of Ben since the two of you got separated, kupo?"

Her face clouded. "None. It's like 'e just—" She stopped, and stared at him. "'Ow did you know we'd been separated?"

"I kept an Eye on all of you," Isaac shrugged, tapping his forehead nonchalantly.

"Creepy."

"Are you kidding, kupo? You're not the one who has to shift personalities five times a night."

"Right. Well," she shrugged. "The two of us got into a bit of a scrap in th' Koringwood, and we got separated. I joined up with a clan fer a while, an'… stuff 'appened. An' 'ow 'bout you?"

"It's hard to sum up. Lots happened, kupo."

"'Parently," she replied with a mischievous grin. "Found yerself a lady, Isaac."

"Oh, come on, kupo," Isaac laughed. "Can't we be mature about this?"

"Nope," Jacqueline shook her head. "What's 'is mean about Eileen, 'en?"

Isaac sighed, and let his head fall into his hands. "Do you think _I_ know, kupo?"

"You mean you still…?"

"Yeah, kupo. Didn't realise it until she hugged me back there."

"You don't pick easy situations, do you? I mean, first you want th' girl 'ose already got a boyfriend. 'En, you 'ook up with another girl, but you're still crushing on th' first one. And it just so turns out 'at your new girl was engaged to the old girl's boyfriend." She sighed, and shook her head. "You're making me dizzy, Isaac."

"Ah, shut up, kupo," Isaac muttered. "I know. I'm not making any of this any easier."

"No you aren't," Jacqueline agreed. "I just 'ope Ben or Max show up before anything 'appens between the four of you."

"Why? Need some support, kupo?"

"Not at all. They wouldn't wanna miss 'is for the world."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was two weeks later, as Isaac was flapping back home after having picked up some groceries, that the mogknight saw something that made him pause. He was just flying over a small gap between two platforms, when he caught a flash of something far below on the forest floor. It was a slight, odd movement which for some reason drew his attention away from his path. He touched down quickly on the next platform, and looked curiously over the edge.

His eyes widened slightly as he saw the telltale blue hat of a Blue mage, bobbing slowly along at a slow pace below him.

It took the moogle about thirty seconds to glide down to the forest floor, and as he touched down, he looked up to see the Blue mage walking away.

"Ben?" he called.

The mage stiffened in his steps, but just for a moment. The next, he twirled rapidly, and a sabre was in his hand. He lunged forward, faster than Isaac thought he could react.

However, much to his own surprise, Isaac found the Avuir Blue veritably jumped to his paw and caught the sabre's edge along its length. The moment of contact lasted no longer than a split-second, then both pulled their weapons away and brought them back around. Isaac felt the vibrations running up from his wrist along his arm, and then slipped his weapon away from the block.

The Blue mage, being far faster than him, swept his blade in low at him, and Isaac simply jumped up and over the weapon. He came back down, and held his blade vertically beside him, blocking the back-swing.

This afforded him a good view of the Blue mage. It definitely was not Ben; his hair, though the correct shade of brown, was short. His eyes matched this colour, showing a strange rage.

Isaac dodged back, out of the way of one of the Blue mage's attacks, then slashed forward again, far out of range of his opponent. Another blade launched from the Avuir Blue, this one made from pure moonlight. It crossed the distance between the two, and the mage brought his sabre out, deflecting the attack and splitting it in two so that both halves passed by him. He lunged forward, and Isaac caught the attack.

Isaac was confused as he fenced the mage. Why had he attacked him upon hearing Ben's name?

Suddenly, the mage looked up, beyond Isaac's head. His eyes widened, and he pulled away from a slash he was throwing the mogknight's way, and instead brought the sabre up to block.

For an instant, Isaac wondered if the Blue mage had gone mad. An instant later, however, he understood. A flash of blue and red crossed his vision on his left, and sparks rang out as weapons smashed against each other. The two figures fought at a rate so intense and rapid that Isaac couldn't keep up with it.

Suddenly, the Blue mage swung his sabre in low at his opponent. His opponent jumped, and in that one moment, Isaac recognized him, long, ragged blue robe billowing out behind him, hat falling off of his head and releasing his long, braided hair, and the twin pair of sabres held in his hands.

The one and only Blue Ninja, Ben.

Ben's foot flew out and around in mid-air, catching his opponent straight in the face. The Blue mage stumbled with the momentum, clutching his shattered nose. Ben landed easily, then twirled once, whipping a sabre out.

It flew with deadly precision and control, slicing the air with a soft hum. Finally, it came to rest comfortably pressed against the reeling Blue mage's throat, leaving him completely defenceless.

Ben panted for a few moments, eyes shut. Then, he said, without opening his eyes, "You guys can take him now."

The moment he said the words, people appeared from the trees around them. Isaac took a step back, shocked that he hadn't noticed a single one of them. They all looked quite scruffy, with clothing patched and ripped in dozens of places, and ruffled hair. There were a couple other Blue mages amongst them, along with many humans and vierra with bows strapped to their backs. There were also a couple nu mous, each one holding either an instrument or a strange, small orb in their hands.

Ben finally opened his eyes, and said, "That's the last of 'em."

A vierra and a human walked up, and grabbed the rogue Blue mage, pulling his arms behind his back and tying them there. As they were doing this, Isaac asked, "Ben, kupo?"

Ben, who was busy watching the other two binding the prisoner, glanced over at the sound of the voice, and blinked. "Isaac?"

The two stared at each other for a good long moment, neither wanting to make the first move.

"Hey," Ben finally said, breaking the silence.

"Hey."

"How've you been?"

"Good, kupo. You?"

"Keeping busy," Ben shrugged, inclining his head towards the struggling Blue mage behind him.

"Sir?" a voice asked. The two turned, and found one of the other Blue mages facing Ben.

"What is it?" Ben replied, not at all phased by the fact that he had been called 'sir.'

"We've caught him, so we may as well be heading back to headquarters."

"Oh no," Ben shook his head, laughing a bit. "No, 'we' are not going back to headquarters. _You_ are going back to headquarters. I told you that this was my last one, and besides, I'm already home." He gestured towards the trees around him, and shrugged. "Our business together is done."

"There is still much to do—"

"Much for you to do," Ben corrected, slightly more of an edge to his voice this time. "I didn't want to be part of this from the beginning, and I'm taking this opportunity to back out. Good bye."

With that, Ben turned on his heel, and strode away from the group.

It took Isaac a moment to follow him, quite surprised by his friend's actions. As it was, he kept expecting the group behind them to let fire or rush after them.

However, no such attack came. The two walked along the forest floor, stepping from light to shadow and back again beneath the platforms high above.

"So," Isaac ventured eventually. "That was, uh, sort of tense back there, kupo."

"To tell the truth," Ben said, sighing and dropping his head into his hands for a moment, "I'm surprised we're not pincushions right now."

"You were expecting and attack?"

"The whole time."

"Good to know, kupo," Isaac said, giving Ben an annoyed glance.

"Sorry. It's just that I've been with them for the past five months, and they've been annoying me the whole time. Haven't let me leave, kept talking about duty and responsibility to the Order." He rolled his eyes, leaning his head back. "Damn, it's nice to be free. So, what _have_ you been up to?"

"Adventuring," Isaac said, deciding to leave Ben be for a moment, "fighting, getting into way too much danger. The usual, kupo."

"Nice. Learned how to use mogknight abilities as well, I see."

"Oh, that, kupo," Isaac said, letting his paw come to rest upon the hilt of his blade. "Turns out I've known how all along, kupo."

"Really?" Ben asked, surprised. "Since when?"

Isaac had spent many late nights going over all of the events since he'd arrived in Ivalice through his mind, picking through to find that one moment that he'd been fully entranced by the moon. Though it had taken almost until he and Lini had reached Muscadet, he had finally found it.

"The first night I spent conscious here in Ivalice, kupo," Isaac explained. "I went out onto the deck of _the Torrent_ at night, and I saw the moon. That was it."

Ben nodded, and the two continued in silence for a time. The moogle took advantage of the opportunity to look over and size up the Blue mage for a moment.

He was taller than before. That was for sure. And definitely less well kempt. His hair was longer and wilder, and, oddly enough, it had a few streaks of red running through it in places. He needed to shave. His cloak was ripped and torn in places, and even where there weren't open holes, there were small patches or gaps sewed clumsily shut. This motif was continued down in his pants, on which was clipped the Blue mage pin. It needed a polishing desperately, covered in mud and dust from the road. There was also something a bit odd about his stride. It took Isaac a moment to note it, but it was there. He seemed to walk more with the balls of his feet than before. Overall, his movement was reminiscent of a great predatory cat, stalking its prey.

"Did you learn anything new while you were gone, then?" Isaac asked.

"Eh?"

"I mean, I learned to use mogknight techniques and how to fight with a blade. Did you get anything?"

Ben considered this as they walked for a time, before answering. "I didn't really _learn_ anything, per se. It's more like I _forgot_ something."

"Kupopo?"

"You'll see one day."

"That's a very annoying answer, kupo."

"Probably."

The two reached the tree which was part of their house, and quickly climbed it. Neither had trouble: Isaac simply flew most of the way, while Ben used his uncanny agility to go up. At one point, behind him, Isaac heard Ben call out. He twirled around, just in time to see Ben slipping on a slick piece of moss. The moogle was about to fly back to him, but Ben's hand flew out and slapped into the wood. There was a noise of loud crunching, and then red fur spread across his hand and long claws dug into the wood.

Isaac landed carefully on a branch, and watched the mage slowly lift himself up from the side of the branch. He got his feet down on the wood, then shook himself up. The fur receded back into his hand, slower than was usual, and then he looked up to Isaac, perched upon the branch above him. His eyes were shining with excess magical power.

He shook his head, and the light faded away. He gave Isaac a weak smile, and then started climbing again.

"Something to tell Eileen about," Isaac muttered to himself. Her old concerns about Ben's control echoed in his mind. But for now, they still had to get there.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was a wonderful evening when Ben returned. Jacqueline hit him with a flying tackle the moment the door opened, and from that moment on they were almost attached to each other. Ben met, and was equally surprised, by Lini, and Eileen took all of his ribbing in stride. Isaac mostly retreated back to the small kitchen and prepared the food.

His sensitive ears told him that somebody was entering the room. Isaac glanced up, and saw Eileen walking through the door.

"Hey, kupo," Isaac nodded to her, slicing up a small vegetable. "How are they out there?"

"Groping," Eileen shrugged, as though he should have expected the answer. In all truth, he had. "They just don't stop."

"I think I can understand them now."

"Yeah," she laughed, looking at him. "I keep forgetting about you and Lini. So, uh, you two have, uh, well…?"

Isaac grinned. "Maybe, kupo. You and Quin?"

She grinned back. "Maybe."

Isaac nodded, and turned away, biting his lip very hard for a moment. He took a deep breath, and turned back, smiling at her. "I wanted to talk to you."

"About Ben?"

"How did you guess, kupo?"

"I noticed the hair," she said. "Same colour as a panther's."

"He's losing control, kupo," Isaac nodded, and then proceeded to tell her about what had happened while the two were climbing the tree.

Once he was done, Eileen sat down in a chair by the counter, her hand going to that golden band around her left middle finger again. Isaac just managed to pick up her voice, whispering something softly to the air around her. He let her alone, instead focusing on the stew he was preparing.

"Fine then," she whispered, shaking her head, and standing. "We'll have to watch him again. I hate saying this."

"Don't worry, kupo," Isaac said, not looking up. "Whatever it takes."

"I just want to trust him again. I miss the old world, when everything was trustable. But now, he's just so…"

"Wild, kupo?"

"That's a good word for it. Nothing's the same."

"It's alright, Eileen," Isaac assured her, actually looking to her this time. "So long as we watch out for each other, we'll handle it. No reason to fear."

"Right," she nodded. "Right. You're right."

At that moment, they heard the front door of the house opening. Eileen left, and soon her and Quin's muffled voices could be heard from the entrance hallway. There was silence for a moment, and then Eileen's head popped in the door.

"Come on," she told him.

Isaac followed her wordlessly through the entrance hallway, and then into the living room. Ben, Jacqueline, Quin, and Lini were all already there, seated at chairs.

"What is it?" Ben asked, noting Eileen concerned look.

She held up an envelope, and from where they all sat or stood, Isaac, Ben, and Jacqueline all identified Maxwell's handwriting. This wouldn't have been odd, if it weren't for the fact that each could also identify what the words were written in.

"Blood," Jacqueline said allowed for all of them.

"Right," Eileen nodded. Her hands were shaking as she held the envelope, addressed to each of them.

"Read it," Jacqueline pushed, and Eileen, not knowing what else to do, obeyed.

There were several tense moments as her eyes scanned the folded paper within, reading it carefully and closely. When she was done, she looked up at all of them, and said simply, "Pack your things. We're going to Sprohm. Now."


	63. The Sins of the Real World

By the time that the party of six reached Sprohm, it was already mid-winter. They were exhausted and cold, but none of them even suggested stopping in at an inn before going to find Maxwell.

His letter, it turned out, had said very little. In fact, it said no more than, "Come to Sprohm, ASAP. I'll meet you at the Dented Helm. Be armed."

It took them some time to find said pub, the Dented Helm. Even amongst the many extremely dangerous and seedy pubs of deep Sprohm, its reputation was notorious. It was generally avoided due to the fact that five percent of the tenants didn't wake up in the morning.

This also, however, did not dissuade them. The very fact that Maxwell had chosen such a dangerous place as the safest location for them to meet meant that it had to be important. Not to mention, it would be best to not leave _anyone_ alone in such a place for long.

When they finally reached the scorched and battered door, Ben led the way in. He had removed his floppy Blue mage's hat, and left his hair down. His ragged coat and sabres, however, he kept. This gave quite an intimidating effect on its own, without adding his eyes, which he allowed to leak bright blue light freely. Anybody who looked at him when he entered quickly turned away, not wanting to aggravate him.

The rest followed him, each being sure to wear their weapons openly and clearly. Once they were sure nobody was willing to confront them head on, they glanced around, and found Maxwell.

The bangaa's time away from them had not, apparently, been comfortable. Despite the fact that his muscle mass had gone noticeably up, he looked much skinnier, and there was a slightly hollow look to his face. His clothing was, if possible, even more ragged than Ben's; covered in smut and stains which were clearly dried blood. He had even more scars covering his body than before, many of them evidently being near-missed fatal attacks.

He sat in the corner, head down, his feet up on a table. A blade was strapped loosely to his side, and his spear was leaning up against the wall next to him within arm's reach.

Isaac was the first to reach him. The moogle sized him cautiously up, just to be sure that this was the correct dragoon, and then asked, "Max?"

Maxwell's eyes lit up, and darted up to take Isaac in. Then, before anyone else could speak, he whispered, "Follow me."

He got up, grabbed his spear, and quickly walked down a back passageway in the wall behind him. The other six, having no idea what else to do, followed him, down several dark corridors which lead clearly underground.

Eventually, they caught up with him, as he was fumbling at a door with a key. It turned, and Maxwell ushered them in, and then closed and locked the door behind them. He also, oddly enough, reached out one long finger, and tapped the door twice. A soft red glow passed across it, and then Maxwell was still.

"You came," he breathed, shaking his head. "I almost wish that you hadn't."

The six of them didn't say anything to this. Eventually, Eileen ventured, "Max? What's all this about?"

He was quiet again for some time after this. Then, his eyes flicked from Quin to Lini, and he asked, "Do they know of St Ivalice?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. Please, wait a moment."

He went over to the small bed, and reached underneath. He withdrew a black box, and lifted it gingerly up to the only table in the small room. After bidding the others to stand back, he pressed on several hidden compartments and levers along the box's surface, before finally opening the thing up.

"I believe that the four of you from St Ivalice will recognize this?"

He reached into the box, and pulled out a long, black rifle. It was clearly very rough quality, but it was a rifle nonetheless. Also, oddly, unlike the normal guns which moogles used, this one had no small attached cartridge filled with compressed air for the pneumatic firing system. Isaac, Eileen, Jacqueline, and Ben all realized at once what this must mean.

"I don't understand," Lini said, looking around at four friends' shocked faces. "It's simply a gun, kupo."

"That isn't a normal gun, kupo," Isaac shook his head, staring it up and down. "My guns are normal guns. I could walk right up to somebody, place the barrel against their forehead and pull the trigger, and they wouldn't have worse than a nasty welt. That thing, kupo…" he shook his head again, not believing it. "I could be standing across a courtyard, and blow somebody's head off."

"A real gun," Ben said in disbelief. "In Ivalice. It's a real freaking gun."

"Where'd you find it?" Jacqueline asked, eying the thing closely.

"I'm sure that the four of you remember Commander Diesel?"

All four stopped, and their eyes went instantly from the gun to Maxwell.

"Diesel?"

"Yes," Maxwell nodded. "It appears he is an even better gun technician than we thought."

"What happened over the past few months, Maxwell?" Eileen asked, sitting down. "Tell us everything."

"Alright. I decided that while all of you were dealing with your own missions, I would go and destroy the coliseums at Helje and Dorsa. It proved sufficiently easy in Dorsa. I managed to pass messages through the gladiator pens so that they were ready for me when I attacked. We razed the place to the ground, and managed to escape with few enough casualties. Most of them decided to leave when they learned that I would be attacking Helje next, but a few remained with me. We took the path to Helje that you all told me of, and then we entered. However, when we reached the coliseum, it was not the same as it had been. There was a smell of smoke everywhere in the air, and originally, I assumed that there had already been a revolt. That was not true, however. I went in alone, in heavy disguise, to see what was happening within the coliseum. However, it had been changed into a massive factory, burning coal and anything else they could find to help them melt down the metal and work it into guns. They kept one section as an arena, but…" Maxwell stopped, and his face clouded over.

"What, Max?" Eileen demanded, leaning across the table and looking him carefully in the face. "What was it?"

"Diessssel…" Maxwell hissed. His fists began clenching and unclenching, wanting something to beat. "He usssed it as a firing range. Whenever he had to tessst one of hissss gunssss, he would bring in a group of gladiatorsss, and shoot all of them down. They ssstood no chancccce whatsssoever."

"So he's mass-producing guns…" Eileen reasoned, nodding slowly. "He'll probably open up a market for them, and then war will become much more deadly in Ivalice, so—"

"If only it were so simple," Maxwell said, sighing. "His plan is much more elaborate."

"Explain."

"He does not plan to produce them for all people and sell them off. He plans to keep them for himself and to use them as a new weapon with which to wage war against and inevitably defeat the palace and the clans. He would then assume control of Ivalice, and kill anybody who opposed him."

There was silence as everybody digested this information. It was Ben, several moments later, who asked the question, "What happened to the other gladiators who were with you?"

"Upon learning what Diesel was doing with the gladiators, they attacked in a rage. Diesel slaughtered them."

Once again, they were quiet for a good time. Finally, Lini whispered, "I don't think that I quite understand what we are all supposed to do, kupo. Why are we in Sprohm?"

"Diesel's first move was to be to attack the prison with the element of surprise on his side," Maxwell said, acting official again. "His original plan was to break out all of his old contacts who have gone to prison at some point or another. However, since you all left, things have changed. Events have transpired which I believe have effected his choice of targets, if only slightly."

"How, kupo?"

"Marche has turned himself into authorities."

"Kupopo!" Isaac demanded, shocked from his lethargy.

"Yes. As you all know, the palace has been making serious crackdowns trying to find him. However, you may not have known due to the fact you were on the road, they have gotten harder than ever in the past few weeks. It is reported that Marche, upon witnessing the arrest of an innocent moogle, attacked palace guards and turned himself in, along with the rest of Clan Nutsy. Now, Nutsy, which was travelling separate from Marche, managed to break away from their guards and escape. They are currently in Baguba, according to rumour, heading here. Marche should be arriving in two days. One day after that, Prince Mewt himself should be arriving to aid in his interrogation."

"The _prince_?" Quin yelled, standing. "He hasn't left the palace in years!"

"Exactly," Maxwell said. "What better opportunity for Diesel to win his war before it has even begun?"

"I'll assume you've planned somethin'," Jacqueline said. "'Ow's this going down?"

"Well, we have to both destroy the factory in Helje and prevent the assassination attempt," Maxwell said. "We don't want to give up the surprise we still have while assaulting Helje, so I had originally planned on having myself, Ben, and Eileen attack it and destroy the factory while Jacqueline and Isaac saved the prince. However, I hadn't factored in Lini and Quin coming, and they greatly improve our chance of success…"

"We can take the factory," Lini volunteered, glancing over to Quin. "Don't you think, kupo?"

"It would be better if we took that, alone," Quin agreed. "None of you should have to take part in that…"

"We've killed before," Ben said. "Aside from Isaac, of course, we don't have any problem with it—"

"Not like this," Lini said, reaching up and pulling out the Avuir Red. "This will be quite different from any of the killing you've done in the past, kupo. We need to wipe out an entire facility, and the two of us have Ultima power."

"It's very different," Quin agreed. There was a dark look in his eyes. "This isn't the kind of mission any of you have done. What was it that the Ultima Four used to call it, Lini?"

"Ultimacide," Lini whispered, savouring the word. Somehow, it sent a shiver down the spines of the five friends. "Mass destruction as only the Totema themselves can deliver. I've been wanting to try it for some time."

"You still scare me sometimes," Quin muttered. "I'd hoped that I would never have to take part, but as it is…"

"Right," Maxwell muttered. "The two of you should leave tomorrow, then, if you want to arrive in time to still have the element of surprise. As for us, we have to start planning."

"Do you know how the assassination is planned to happen, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"Yes. It won't be a direct attack. He's just going to snipe him off. I don't know where he plans to shoot from, though. It would have to be somewhere with a clear view of the prison, where somebody wouldn't necessarily look…"

"I think I know the place, kupo," Isaac muttered, and dropped his head into his hands.

"Where?"

"Diesel isn't the first person to need to snipe the prison," Isaac explained. "We've done it before, kupo, and I still remember where we did it. The Tower of Adrammalech."


	64. Attacking the Tower

"So this is it, eh?" Ben whispered, gazing across the way at the doors of the Tower of Adrammalech.

"So it seems," Maxwell agreed. "We've got half an hour to do this. Depending on how we do tonight, we either save a life, or let Ivalice fall into chaos. One or the other."

"Can't there ever be an in-between?" Jacqueline asked. She had her rapier out, and was whipping it carefully around in her hands.

"That's not the way it works," Eileen shook her head, grinning despite the intense situation. "We can't have low stakes; it's all or nothing. Otherwise this place would get boring."

"I'll settle for boring any day, kupo," Isaac muttered. He stood up slowly, and asked, "Are we going to do this?"

The other four nodded, and each one drew their weapons. They all knew what was coming.

Not trying to conceal their movements, they stalked purposefully towards the door. They had been hidden by the wall of the prison, though truly, it was a needless effort. It was dark outside; clouds covered the sky, blocking both moon and stars. It was impossible to see them as they crossed the open area, and reached the gothic carved doors.

Maxwell, at their head, grabbed one of the handles, and heaved. Slowly, the door pulled outwards just enough to let them pass. They slipped into the darkness, single file. Max lead, followed by Jacqueline, then Ben, and Isaac, and finally Eileen. Once they were inside, Maxwell turned back, and closed the door again.

Once the door was shut, there was perfect darkness. Not a glimmer of light came from anywhere, even the higher floors.

"This isn't right, kupo," Isaac whispered.

"How do you mean?"

"When I came here last time, it was dark, kupo, but they did have some light…"

"He's already here," Maxwell hissed.

Silence. Then, Jacqueline whispered, "Which of us is providing light?"

"I'll do it."

A small flame of orange light appeared, sending flickering light across each of their faces. The light was resting carefully on Eileen's shoulder, letting them see very little into the darkness around them.

"Fine then," Maxwell whispered. "Let's do this. They're probably—"

"Charge."

There was a rush of noise and confusion. All Isaac knew was that suddenly there was metal clanking, and then he heard Ben call out. Weapons rang off each other, and Isaac fired his gun blindly. There was an odd noise, and Eileen's light blacked out. A powerful tug at his wrist forced Isaac to raise the Avuir Blue up in front of his face, and he heard a ringing noise. Reverberations ran up his arm, and Isaac' s breath caught in his throat.

_Oh Famfrit_, he thought. _They're killing us. They're actually trying to kill all of us._

In that instant, Isaac made a quick decision, which actually did save each and every one of them.

"We surrender, kupo!" he roared out above the clang of metal. Somehow, his voice carried, and the noises died down. "We'll go with you, kupo! Just don't kill us."

There was silence. Then, a very familiar voice called out, "I want all of you to drop your weapons, kupo. Wait!" it said suddenly, thinking again. "Okay, Isaac first."

Isaac let his gun and the Avuir Blue fall, then pulled out his Longbarrel and dropped it.

"Alright. Eileen. You're next."

In this way, he called out each of their names once. After each time, there was a clattering noise.

Finally, after Maxwell had dropped his blade and his spear, there was silence. Then, the same voice called out. "Alright. Put up the lights."

Torches were lit, and each of the five friends were temporarily blinded. Not that it mattered, though, because each one was roughly grabbed. They heard a chain clanking, and one by one they were clamped into heavy iron manacles. By this point, their vision had finally cleared a bit, and they managed to behold the scene before them.

There were probably thirty individuals of varying races around them. They each held weapons, naked and ready. One human was bleeding quite profusely from a massive slash in his right shoulder. Isaac's eyes picked up a flash of red, and he saw that Maxwell's blade was covered in blood.

Trust the dragoon.

However, he didn't get to look at the weapon for long, as their opponents came forward and took their weapons, putting them all in a heap in the centre of the room. A small glimmer of hope remained, Isaac realised, if they didn't actually move the weapons away.

Isaac then sized up his own companions. They all looked fine. Ben had a shallow slash along his shoulder, but that was about all. Ben's face showed more anger than pain; his brow knit, eyes narrowed. He was almost baring his teeth.

Isaac glanced back towards their opponents, and that's when he saw him.

Slowly, from behind the crowd of people emerged a figure. He was shorter than the others, dressed all in black but for his grey fur. He wore a pair of fingerless gloves made from black leather, tight against his skin. These led up into the long sleeves of a black cloak. Underneath, he wore more black: a simple vest and a pair of breeches. At his waist there dangled a knife and a handgun, and, just visible poking out from his left shoulder, there was the barrel of a long gun of some sort.

"Sniper," Isaac whispered quietly.

"Correct," Diesel muttered, a small grin coming to his lips. "I wouldn't have expected any less of you, Isaac. Though," he glanced around at the five of them, shaking his head in disgust. "I expected so much more from you all."

"Expected?"

"Sorry, Maxwell," the gunner shrugged. "You make a better gladiator than a spy. We've known since the outset."

"Dammit," Jacqueline cursed, and the other four mirrored her sentiments. They had been defeated. The battle had barely even begun, and they'd lost.

"Unfortunately, however," Diesel went on, "I don't have any time to monologue about your feebleness and my superiority. I've got a prince to assassinate. So, I'll get going. You, and you," he snapped his fingers, pointing to two humans. "Watch them. If any one of them does anything, kill one of the others. We're off."

Each of the five friends murmured a few choice words under their breath, watching as the grey moogle walked off with his group behind him.

They simply sat there for a few moments, before Ben leaned Maxwell and whispered something. Maxwell nodded, then glared over at Isaac.

"How could you do that?"

"Excuse me, kupo?" Isaac asked, surprised.

"You surrendered us. How could you do that?"

"They would have killed us, kupo!"

"And? We might have held them off long enough to save the prince!"

"You know that I wouldn't let one of us die for something like that, kupo!" Isaac said.

"This is not that kind of mission, Isaac," Maxwell spat. "You disgust me. There are possibly millions of lives at stake over this!"

"Hey!" one of the guards roared. He strode over to tower over the two of them. His partner stood a step behind him, holding his sword ready, just in case. "Stop now or the nu mou pays for your disobedience."

"Does it even matter now?" Maxwell roared. He glared up at the human, hatred in his eyes, and said, "Even though we survive, we'll just end up as slave fodder for your master."

The guard further back drew back his sword suddenly, and muttered, "Out of my way. Let me cut his thro—gurk!"

A hand reached around from behind him, and grabbed him by the neck, yanking him back. About halfway into his fall, red fur covered the hand, and an instant later, the red fur was accompanied by a spray of blood.

The first guard spun around, a knife already in his hand. Ben rose up slowly in front of him. His wrists were free of the shackles, and his left hand completely covered in the fallen guard's blood.

"Come on."

The guard, however, made a very stupid move. Instead of stabbing at the Blue mage, who would have then had to fight him, possibly for so long that help would arrive, he tried making a sideways stab at Isaac's face.

This led Ben to step forward, and drive a powerful kick into the extended arm. The countering force broke the man's elbow, and he cried out, dropping the knife. Ben took one more step forward, and grabbed the knife even as it fell. Then, he spun around, knife still in hand, and drove the weapon between his opponent's ribs.

There were several moments of perfect silence, broken only by the guard's occasional strangled gasps and coughs. Then, after the noise stopped, Ben slipped the weapon out, and let the body fall to the floor.

"Two inept guards," he muttered, rolling his neck. He shook his hands out once, as much to loosen them as to get some of the excess blood off. "I think I just lost some respect for that guy."

He knelt down where he had been shackled down, and began rummaging around. He didn't see Isaac staring at him, partly in wonder and partly in horror. Ben had just brutally murdered two people with little more than a few flicks of his wrist and not even a bat of an eyelid. Had he been like this before they all left?

"So it was all fake?" Eileen asked, glancing from Maxwell to Ben.

"It was a ruse," Maxwell conceded, then his eyes focused closely on Isaac. "However, it was a very telling one."

"What?" the moogle asked, turning away from Ben to meet the bangaa's gaze.

"You would choose one of our lives over a chance to save many more," Maxwell said simply.

"What would you expect of me, kupo?" Isaac demanded, feeling his aggression rising again. "To just let them kill you?"

"If it was one of us, would you want us to save your life over that of even one person, let alone many others?"

"Of course not, kupo."

"How are we any different, then?"

Isaac couldn't reply. He glanced to the other three, and found no help there. Ben was pointedly keeping his gaze down as he rooted around, Jacqueline had found a sudden interest in the ring finger of her right hand, and Eileen, for her part, kept her gaze steady as she watched Isaac's face.

"You're a martyr in all but the most important way," Maxwell concluded. There was no emotion in his voice; it was a statement of fact. Isaac bit his lip, and looked away.

"There!" Ben exclaimed, sitting up straight suddenly. They looked over at him, and found, to his surprise, that he had closed his fingers around a small, incredibly thin knife. He walked over to Jacqueline, and ran the weapon in underneath the shackles, just beside the small ridge where it had been welded into a circle. He made a quick movement with his wrist, and it came through that one flaw, not having any trouble at all.

Ben grinned. "Let's get out of these."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The Tower of Adrammalech was a location of some history. Originally, it had been a simple guard tower along the walls of the desert market city of Sprohm. About six hundred years prior to the arrival of the company, a great battle was fought for the city. The opposing armies battled long and hard, and, over the time, each and every one of the great guard towers along the walls fell to the enemy forces. All of them, that is, except for one. The Tower of Adrammalech was the one tower which stood at the center of the wall. Due to the location of Sprohm, a single tower alone was enough to hold the line on its own. That one tower, despite all odds, held out against the attacks, and when the enemy finally tired, the guards of that tower rode out, rallied the remaining troops, and pushed the invaders far back.

Since then, the tower had earned it a certain legendary quality. It became a religious site, where Templars and Monks came to train their skills, and soon the expanding city of Sprohm overtook it. It was now nestled deep within the city, quite near the core.

Because of its original purpose, the tower was designed to be defended from going up each of its five floors. As such, there was only one staircase leading from one floor to the next, and the entrance and exit from each floor were located on opposite sides of the floor. On top of that, once inside the staircase, one could cut a chain which would drop a stone slab in front of the door, further hindering movement.

When Isaac had originally come here, he'd had the advantage of darkness and unsuspecting monks to aide him. Thus, he'd managed to avoid detection until the very end of his operation. This time, however, they were dealing with a much more powerful and numerous enemy, who was prepared and on-edge for attack.

"All those who still think this is suicide say 'Aye.'"

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Aye."

"Good," Ben said, shaking his hair out. "So we're all still sane."

"Either way, we should move now," Maxwell said, taking a deep breath. "Jacqueline, Ben, you two take the head, Eileen's in the middle, followed by Isaac, then me."

"And we're off," Jacqueline whispered, heading for the stairs.

Isaac watched as Ben and Eileen each followed Jacqueline up, and then spun around to face Maxwell.

"I'm not a coward."

"Wha—"

"We don't have time; don't speak, kupo. I am not a coward. I'm just as brave and courageous and skilled as any of you. I'm just different, kupo. That's not a bad thing. I understand how wrong it is to ask all of you to bite the bullet and kill me if it came down to that even though I couldn't do the same in exchange, but I can't change that. I am who I am, and I'm not changing anytime soon, kupo."

With that, he turned on his heel, his face feeling extremely hot, and followed Eileen up the stairs. He made his movements as quiet as possible, and drew out weapons as he went. In his left paw, the Avuir Blue. In his right, his six shot revolver. He kept his head down, pointedly watching the stairs go by him until he caught up with Eileen a few steps later.

She greeted him with a small nod, then gestured. Up ahead, Ben was crouched slightly, and Jacqueline was on her belly, climbing upwards to try and peer over the lip of the final stair and into the room. Isaac dimly heard Maxwell's muscled bulk approaching behind him, but didn't look back.

Jacqueline came back down, and nodded to them. She held up her fingers, and lifted them several times to show that there were twenty-four opponents up there. She drew a judgepoint slowly, and cast them a glance, asking if they were ready.

They nodded as one.

Jacqueline took in a deep breath, and roared, "I declare an engagement!" She threw the judgepoint out the doorway into the second floor, and then ducked her head.

Maxwell flew by over head, his spear held carefully in both hands, and passed threw the door. There was an exclamation, and then they heard a crashing noise. Without hesitation, each of them rose to their feet, and ran out of the door.

As soon as they did, they were greeted by a mass of light and people, each one drawing out weapons and preparing spells. Not wanting to lose the element of surprise, each one went to work without hesitation. Maxwell was already laying about him in all directions with his spear, occasionally stopping to breathe fire, ice, or electricity at a crowd of enemies. Ben whipped forward both of his sabres in parallel horizontal slashes, and rushed straight into the fray, not even hesitating at the wall of blades confronting him. Jacqueline's rapier came out, and held her ground, waiting for the press to reach her. Eileen closed her eyes, and held up both hands, waiting.

Isaac, for his part, simply stood by Jacqueline, holding the blade prepared for the first attack. When it came, Isaac drew his gun, and funnelled all of the paralysis he felt into the weapon. He fired off the shot, and watched as it smashed into a bangaa's nose.

A shrill whistle sounded, and a voice cried out, "Penalty for using missiles, going to the mogknight Isaac!"

Isaac glanced up at the sound of his name, just in time for a yellow card to slap into his face. He sputtered slightly, and then his vision cleared as the card disappeared.

"Put tha' thing away!" Jacqueline yelped, taking a step forward to cover the distracted Isaac. "We can't 'ave you being arrested!"

"Right, kupo!" Isaac replied, cursing himself for having not considered the laws beforehand. They never normally limited him. Why should this one have been any different.

He holstered his gun, and then held his blade ready in both hands, letting his eyes take in those attacking them.

Jacqueline was holding off about five opponents at once, using a mixture of her rapier and magic. She ducked easily under one slash, then twirled, catching the edge of an opponent's weapon along her rapier's length. She didn't hold the block for longer than an instant, before leaning her hips to the left, keeping her body away from an offending broadsword.

_Right,_ he thought, tightening his grip on the blade, _time to get to work_.

He stepped forward, slashing at the open air before him. Moonlight gathered around the weapon, slashing forward and cutting into one of the bangaas attacking Jacqueline. As he fell, blood splashing out of the wound, Isaac rushed up beside the vierra, slashing back and forth with the Avuir Blue. He dashed forward slightly ahead of Jacqueline, and ducked under a hack from another vierra's rapier. As her weapon went by, over-balancing the weapon's wielder, Isaac brought his own blade up, slashing deep through her skin.

Isaac leapt back, and Jacqueline blocked an attack coming at him from an opportunistic mogknight. The two nodded quickly to each other, and continued fighting.

Suddenly, there was a roar, and then, with a shuddering crash, Maxwell was standing next to the two of them with his spear stabbing forward. He swept his spear out in front of him, knocking several of the enemies over.

"We can't keep thisss up!" Maxwell hissed. "I've been all the way through thisss crowd, and he'sss not anywhere!"

"Diesel, kupo?"

"Of courssse, Diesel!" Maxwell said, the smallest growl in his throat. "Who elssse?"

"'Right," Jacqueline muttered. "I think we can handle this." Then, she yelled, "Oi, Ben!"

She waited several moments, still fighting the masses pressing at them. When she got no reply, she glanced apologetically at the other two, before ducking backwards a few steps. She put her fingers into her mouth, and let out one, sharp blasting whistle.

It took about ten seconds, but suddenly, there was a flash of blue light, followed by a few screams. Then, quite abruptly, a fighter, standing before them with his blade held ready, widened his eyes as he was bowled suddenly forward onto his face. Over this fallen individual came Ben, vaulting forward in a full front flip. He landed carefully directly in front of them in a kneel, and glanced up with a grin.

"Milady?" he asked. "May I be of servi—?"

Maxwell's foot stomped down on his head, bringing him out of the way as Isaac intercepted a downward chop with the Avuir Blue. He slashed forward, not trying to hit but to force the opponent back. Isaac and Jacqueline each took a step forward to hold off the enemies as Maxwell dragged Ben backwards and out of the way.

"You could start by not gettin' yer head sliced off!" Jacqueline yelled back at him.

"I'll try that," he muttered. "What do you need me for, then?"

"We're gonna punch a hole through th' lines, and get these three up th' stairs!"

"Sounds fun!" He stood slowly, staggering slightly, then shook his head. He turned to face the crowds, still being held back by Isaac and Jacqueline, then muttered, "Let's go."

Blue light exploded from him, blinding everybody for a moment. The next, he was tearing forward, leaving a trail of people holding red lines where his claws had dug in. It actually took a few seconds for the other four to follow, each one equally as surprised as their opponents at Ben's explosion.

However, they didn't waste the chance that Ben's wild gambit had bought them. They charged, Jacqueline leading, and put many more lines of red pain upon their enemies to go with Ben's. Each one slashed, hacked, or cast blasts of magic at their enemies on the way by, trying to put as large a dent in them as possible.

Eventually, however, their enemies crushed in around them again, this time on all sides. Jacqueline, Maxwell, and Isaac instinctively formed up around Eileen, shielding her from any harm. It happened all at once. The enemies all rushed, and then there was a general ringing out of steel on steel as weapons met.

Isaac held the Avuir Blue before him, holding two enemy weapons back with it. Should he have moved it at all, he would have been in a terrible position. He glanced around, trying to find some way to deal with this situation. If only he had his gun, he could have slid that underneath and slashed at their knees. But he didn't. All he had was his blade, and his own body…

Isaac grinned suddenly, and pulled out of the block. The two he was fighting, surprised, lunged forward with their weapons at his exposed chest. However, they met only empty space, for Isaac had set his wings to flapping, and was now eye to eye with his opponents. They were taken aback for a moment, before Isaac slashed with the Avuir Blue, biting deep into both of their throats with that one attack.

"Oi!" Jacqueline's voice called from off to Isaac's right. "Follow me!"

With that, the ringing of metal on metal became much more frantic and quicker. Isaac glanced over to his right, and watched in awe as Jacqueline worked her rapier. Though she was up against about five individuals, each about three times as wide as she was with muscle, she was very easily and efficiently pushing them backwards, step by step, towards the far wall. Eileen, Isaac, and Maxwell followed her, being sure to cover her rear as she went.

Finally, they reached the far wall, with the open mouth of the stairway gaping at them. Ben was standing just within, holding it from the enemies with both sabres bared. The Blue mage had apparently burst straight through the line, and come out the other side completely alone.

"You guys, go!" he roared upon seeing them. He held an overhead broadsword chop blocked between both of his weapons up high. As they approached, he raised one foot, somehow maintaining the strength to hold the block, and kicked the bangaa in the face. The great lizard plummeted backward, holding his nose and grimacing.

Ben stepped out of the passage, and ushered Eileen, Isaac, and Maxwell through. Then, he and Jacqueline turned back to face the crowds.

"Get a move on," Jacqueline whispered. "We've got our own business teh do."

"You can't hold them alone, kupo."

"We'll hold them long enough for you guys to take out Diesel!" Ben retorted, then gestured with his head. "Go!"

Maxwell placed a hand on Isaac's shoulder, and he nodded, realising this wasn't the time to argue. The three took off at a run, going up the stairs. However, a few steps up, they heard a whistle behind them, and turned to find a judge standing on the stairs. He held one yellow card in his hand, and a scroll from which he was reading in the other.

"For violation of a law handed down by our great lady Queen Remedi," his voice boomed, "you, Isaac the mogknight, have been issued a fine of your judgepoints. All judgepoints will now be removed from your sash."

Even as he said this, Isaac noted that his sash seemed suddenly lighter. He glanced down, and found the sack empty.

"That is all. I must now return to the battle. May the will of the Queen be done!"

And he disappeared.

The three didn't wait longer than a moment after that to continue moving. They all knew that they were on a sharp time limit, and that they couldn't hope that there would be no more confrontations.

Despite the fact that the three thought that they were quite ready, however, they were highly surprised when they stepped out onto the next floor and found that it was a raging inferno.

Isaac cried out in shock as the flames reached out and scorched him, catching onto his clothes. The burns spread across his body, and soon they were pulsating with pain.

He was about to step back into the staircase, when a hand came down heavily upon his shoulder. He glanced up, and saw Eileen beside him, shaking her head slowly. Oddly, she didn't appear burnt at all.

"It's illusionary magic," she explained, turning her gaze slowly to stare around at the expanses of flame. "It will only hurt you as much as you believe that it can."

"That doesn't help, kupo, when it's about as real as anything I've ever known!"

"Isaac," Maxwell's voice called. The moogle glanced around Eileen, and saw that Maxwell was swaying slightly, with his eyes shut. Oddly, though there were burn marks on his armour and clothes, none of the flames seemed to be touching him anymore. He went on. "Just think of it in the context that this entire world doesn't truly exist. Deny everything."

"Everything, kupo?"

"Everything," Maxwell confirmed.

Isaac stopped, and nodded. He reached up, and wiped sweat and soot out of the short fur on his forehead. Then, much like Maxwell, he closed his eyes, and focused on what was not there.

It was a strange experience. Though he could no longer see the flames, the mogknight's other four senses gave him enough sensory overload to tell him he shouldn't be here. Acrid smoke burned his nostrils, and leaked down into the back of his throat. Tears were streaming out past his clenched eyes. Tongues crackled and roared about him as they licked at his vulnerable flesh, leaving sensitive bits of flesh behind.

"Focus harder, Isaac," Eileen ordered beside him. Her voice was soft. "I've summoned a judge, and if you don't keep a grip on what's real and what's fake, you're going to be blown away when I start fighting this guy. Got it?"

"Got it," Isaac lied. His breathing was heavy, but with each breath more and more of the choking darkness filtered down to his lungs. He coughed, and placed his paw down on the hilt of the Avuir Blue for support.

Instantly, everything got a little bit clearer. It was as sudden as that. Isaac looked up in surprise, and found that the flames seemed less real. More… transparent. The roar was no more than a few echoing crackles, the intense heat dimmed down to an uncomfortable warmth, and the thickness of the air lifted slightly. He blinked once or twice, and glanced down at the Avuir Blue.

A pale purple glow came from its amethyst pommel, bathing him in soft light. He blinked, and shook his head to clear the illusion from his mind. Then he glanced up, and looked at the room in which he stood.

Fortunate it was that he picked that moment to look up. He managed to catch sight of the wavering sword coming down at his head, and brought his own weapon up to block. The heavy feeling of reverberations running along his arms momentarily brought the entire scene into view before him. Three fighters, two of them bangaa and one human, were advancing towards them with weapons drawn. Standing far behind them was a hume wearing long, purple robes. Her face was stitched with concentration, and her eyes shut. It was clearly her that was causing all of this magic.

Isaac glanced over, and realised that Maxwell's eyes were still shut. Apparently, though he could withstand the magic somewhat, he couldn't put up enough of a fight to also combat those coming towards them at the same time.

Great.

Isaac pulled his blade back out of the block, and swiped forward again. He dimly caught view of his attacker, wreathed in shimmering flames, leap back, and come in at him. He brought the Avuir Blue up, as though to block, then sidestepped the overhead chop instead. He stepped around his surprised opponent, and stabbed behind him. The Avuir Blue found flesh, and bit into it, slashing out the other side.

Isaac pulled his weapon out, and caught his judgepoint.

"Isaac?" Eileen's voice asked from behind him.

Isaac glanced over his shoulder, and his eyebrows rose slightly. Eileen stood, an orange aura slowly becoming more and more apparent around her. For a few feet around the aura, the air was clear of illusion.

"You can see them?" she asked.

"When I hold the blade, kupo."

"Good. Hold off anybody coming at us. I'll deal with the illusionist. Maxwell?"

"Yes?"

"Once I've hit the enemy mage, the illusion will die for a moment. Then, you have to make a break for the stairs. Understand?"

"Completely."

"Good. Let us begin."

And, with that, quite abruptly, it started.

Eileen's hands pointed forward suddenly, and orange light filtered out of them. Without having to be told to, it went to work. Energy built in the air exactly where it looked, to Isaac at least, that the illusionist was standing. A moment later, it exploded, sending the roaring noise out above the imaginary sound of flames around them.

However, the illusionist's form didn't waver, and the illusion held strong.

At this moment, Isaac had to stop watching Eileen's work. The two melee enemies, one bangaa and one human remaining, were advancing slowly upon him. Apparently, after seeing how easily their fellow had been defeated, they were being more cautious.

The two attacked as one, bangaa going in low as the human made a direct thrust at Isaac's face. Knowing he'd never block both attacks, Isaac used the powers of his blade, and jumped. With a bit of help from his wings, he went over both attacks, then kicked out with a booted foot and smashed the stabbing sword just below him.

This move sent the human stumbling away, off-balance, while the bangaa brought his own weapon back around and up to slash at the now-airborne enemy.

It was at this moment that the illusionist switched spells. One second, Isaac was sweating with the uncomfortable heat around him, the next, he was in the midst of a snow-storm, white flecks shooting by him as the wind roared about. His body went momentarily into shock, and shivers ran up his spine.

The drastic change in colour and environment threw the moogle off for just a moment, but it was a moment too long. A sudden, searing pain manifested at the base of his left thigh, and continued up to just below his hip bone. Isaac cried out, and hit the ground hard on his right foot. Not able to keep the balance with only one leg, the moogle threw himself into a roll, trying to keep away from the two warriors.

As he came out of the roll, Isaac was quick to check his leg. Tears were leaking out of his eyes, and, in his mind, they froze instantly against his skin in the cold. Red blood was dripping out onto the snow, melting the stuff where it landed. The wound went up along the back of his leg, about nine inches from base to top. He was lucky that the weapon hadn't bit deeper, or else his leg would definitely have been severed.

Isaac glanced up, and just managed to catch sight of the two attackers, advancing slowly upon him. The moogle gripped his blade tightly, but his paw was shaking. The pain was stealing his focus, and every few moments, the true room around him would fade out of view, and be replaced fully by the blinding snow. The spinning in his head told Isaac that blood loss was already taking effect, and once it had a full hold on him, the battle would be over.

"Crap," he whispered to himself. "I'm screwed, kupo."

Much to the moogle's surprise, however, he was _not_, in fact, screwed. He was actually quite fine, for at that exact instant, Eileen, who'd been feeling around with her magic, felt the presence of another mage. Not hesitating, she pointed her hands, and shaped the magic as she required.

An explosion rang out, and the illusion faded around the three friends. Before it had fully left their senses, Eileen had yelled, "Maxwell, move!"

The dragoon, however, needed no such encouragement. He had already jumped, and was travelling faster than most of them could follow towards the staircase. He landed lightly, and then his footsteps could be heard rushing up the steps.

"The dragoon Maxwell has left this battle!" the judge's voice announced. "Continue with combat."

Isaac bit his lip, and, as his opponents were distracted, he slashed with his blade. A second blade, built from moonlight, flew from his weapon. It crossed the distance, and cut deep into the bangaa's leg. He roared, and grabbed the wound as blood flew from it. Much like Isaac, he fell to one knee, and couldn't get back up. He also dropped his sword, then grimaced at the moogle.

"Isaac!" Eileen yelled. She had finally seen his injury.

"I'm fine," Isaac groaned. He held his weapon horizontally in front of himself, hoping that maybe he'd be able to hold out long enough to let Eileen defeat the illusionist.

"I'm going to punch another hole in the illusion!" she said to him. "Then, you have to go, Isaac!"

"Not yet," he replied. "You can't handle this on your own. That mage is too strong!"

"If you stay in this battle, you're going to be dead in a few seconds, and you'll be no use to me then," she said.

"Eileen, don't do thi—"

Orange light flooded from her, and lanced forward. It cut straight through the ice and the snow, before opening up in a perfect rectangle the size of the opening to the next level.

Eileen pointed a hand towards Isaac.

"Eileen!"

"Aufflackern."

Flames erupted next to Isaac, throwing the moogle like a ragdoll across the room. He felt cracks running through his body as he hit the first stair, and they continued ringing out across his body as he rolled up several more steps.

Finally, he came to a halt. His breathing was haggard, and he was hurting absolutely everywhere. Blood, his own blood, was covering the stone steps behind him, and his skin was tender from a massive burn running up along his right side.

A moment later, he felt a presence looming above him. A judge's voice rang out.

"You have left the engagement. Your wounds shall now be healed."

A comfortable coolness entered the moogle's body. He felt the soft red of his burnt skin swelling down, and his own fur growing out again. The slash in his leg began knitting back together, skin reaching out to meet skin.

Isaac stood back up, and shook his head. "Let me back into the engagement."

"I cannot do that."

"Let me back in, kupo!" he roared.

"You have left the engagement and been healed. It would be unethical to allow you back into the engagement."

"I don't care," Isaac said. "I can't leave her."

"Every moment I spend bickering with you is one moment I spend not protecting your friend," the judge growled. "Now I _suggest_ that you go and help your other friend. One of my companions is overseeing his battle right now, and he is in desperate need of your aid."

With that, the judge disappeared.

Isaac groaned, and stretched out his muscles. He glanced back towards the staircase leading down, and groaned. The judge would _not_ be allowing him back into that engagement. That, at least, was clear. He turned around another time, and his eyes settled upon the staircase leading upwards. He let his ears train upon it, and heard the sound of gunshots echoing down.

"Alright, Maxwell, kupo," he muttered, "let's do this."

He ran up the stairs.


	65. Duel

A/N: Alright, hey, everyone. So, I'm sorry it took so long for this chapter, and the last one. But you've gotta realise, I've been working my tail off on every single type of project you can imagine for each of my classes. Also, the little free time I got was spent watching Heroes. My friend lent me the DVD compilation of the first season. That show is brilliant.

Either way, I'd just like to announce that this chapter begins a section of the story that I call,

The Black Age of Ivalice

Isaac took the stairs two at a time, wanting to get to Maxwell as quickly as possible. He had no doubts in Maxwell's strength, but nonetheless, Diesel was a kind of opponent Maxwell wasn't used to fighting, probably. His style was more to do with trickery than with great strength of body.

However, with guns outlawed, the gunner would be at a great disadvantage. In fact, he probably couldn't last longer than a few moments.

But then why the gunshots? They were becoming more and more clearly defined with each step Isaac took up the stairs. Diesel was using his gun to fight Maxwell. What kind of an idiot was he? Even if he killed Maxwell, he would be sent to the Engagement Prison to serve a few days before being released. The judge had said that one of his partners was watching over the other battle, so it wasn't possible that they were fighting outside of the laws.

He growled to himself in annoyance. Then, he ran up the stairs, taking the path until they wound around back up to the next floor.

He stepped out onto the landing just in time to see Maxwell, coming down from a jump with his spear in a double-handed stab, be shot directly through the chest. Diesel, the bangaa's obvious target, rolled out of the way as the body hit the ground, and came back up to his feet.

"Engagement over!" the judge's voice declared. "Winner, Diesel!"

The judge disappeared in a flash of light. Isaac blinked at the brightness, and when his eyes cleared, he saw Diesel shaking his head, drops of perspiration dripping from his forehead. He leaned over for a moment, panting, then glanced up, his eyes instantly catching the other moogle.

"Ah, Isaac!" he greeted, a small grin crossing his face. He straightened up, and then gave a slight bow. "How nice to see you again, kupo! I'm sorry, Maxwell and I were busy entertaining the spectators."

He gestured with his paw, and Isaac followed it. In one of the corners of the room were the normal inhabitants and worshippers of the tower. There were about eight in all, mostly bangaas. All of them wore the garb of holy men around their persons, and the shackles of prisoners around their wrists. Though they were gagged, their eyes did enough to communicate the terror. His attention was drawn back to Diesel as the moogle cleared his throat.

"It appears that you and your friends were more resourceful than I thought."

"You won't get away with this, Diesel," Isaac spat. He didn't have the patience to listen to the gunner's small talk. He simply wanted this to be over.

"Feisty, are we?" the grey moogle asked, and his smile widened. Slowly, not even realising it, they each began moving. Not towards each other. Oh, no, nothing so sudden. Both began circling the tower's stone floor, eyes fixed on each other.

"You're not going to kill the prince, kupo."

"And you're going to stop me? Come now, Isaac. Last time we fought, kupo, we may have come out as equals. However, I was restrained from using my gun, and, well…" his smile got all the wider. "We'll say that with a gun, this battle will be a whole lot shorter."

"You didn't get to even see me use a gun, kupo," Isaac retaliated. "Not to mention, my blade skills have become greater than you could imagine."

"I'm not interested in your stupid blade, Isaac," he laughed. "Well, then, I propose a challenge to you, kupo."

Diesel reached down into the inside of his long coat, and his paws came out, each bearing a single handgun. Isaac spied the pneumatic air compartments attached to them. Normal Ivalice guns.

"You use your blade and this gun. I'll use my knife and _this_ gun," he lifted the gun in his right paw. "And we fight."

"Fine," Isaac replied. He wanted to say no, but he understood the situation perfectly. If Diesel used his lethal gun, the fight would be one shot long. It was his only choice.

"Good, kupo."

Diesel and Isaac had gone in a full circle now, each one standing at one of the opposite stairway openings. They turned from each other at the same time, and began taking off their extra equipment. Isaac removed his empty sheath, and both of the guns he carried, laying them at them reverently down on the stone. He then pulled the knitted gloves off of his paws, dropping them, and the thick jacket he had been wearing in the cold outside. Finally, he reached down, and pulled off his heavy boots, opting to go barefoot.

Isaac turned back to Diesel, holding only his blade in his left paw. Diesel had removed his jacket and his extra weapons, now sporting the two guns in his hands and the knife attached to his leg. He drew his left paw back, and lobbed the gun at Isaac.

The brown moogle reached out and plucked it from the air, feeling the weight. It was a standard, basic gun. One shot per round, short barrel, low kickback. Perfect for a duel of speed. Isaac reached down, and pulled one bullet out of the pouch on his belt, inserting it into the weapon and cocking. He was ready.

"Are you prepared then, kupo?" Diesel asked.

"Of course," Isaac replied, and then, tucking the gun under his armpit, Isaac reached down and drew out his only judgepoint.

_Ka-chunk!_

Isaac's eyes widened as the card was ripped forcefully from his grasp, ripping apart at the force of the bullet. He looked up at Diesel, and saw the gunner holding his gun up, having just fired.

"You don't seem to understand, kupo," he shook his head. "I only had one antilaw against gunning. And besides, what's a duel where both sides survive? We're going to the death, kupo."

Isaac let his breath out slowly, then raised the blade before him, and pointed the gun downward. "Fine."

And they started.

Both moogles fired, and dove to the right. They hit the ground, rolled, and came to their feet at almost the exact same time. Diesel reached to reload his gun, but Isaac took a more direct route, heading straight for the grey moogle.

Diesel managed to jam a bullet into his weapon a couple of steps before Isaac reached him, then aimed and fired.

Isaac's blade flashed out; not slicing, but blocking. He felt the bullet ring off of his weapon, and then brought the Avuir Blue around for a one-handed overhead chop.

Diesel ducked his head and sidestepped, letting the blade pass him by. He had already loaded another bullet, so he aimed directly at Isaac's face, and fired. The brown moogle had predicted the move, and instead of simply taking it, he turned his head, feeling the displaced air of the bullet ruffling his fur. He then brought his blade around again, and felt vibrations run up his arm with his opponent's block.

The two stopped moving, standing, connected to each other through the steel in their paws. Each of their eyes were set, and hard on the other.

"You _have_ gotten stronger, kupo. And faster."

"And you _are_ good with a gun."

"Better than you?"

"We'll see, kupo."

With that, Isaac placed pressure on the blade, and pushed off with his toes. His wings flared, and gave several powerful flaps. As the mogknight lifted off, he pointed forward with his gun, and pulled the trigger.

Diesel jumped up in order to dodge the bullet. Realising how vulnerable he would be if he let himself drop back down, he flapped his own wings, and started rising into the air.

The two moogles began circling each other again, in the air this time. Diesel was forced to flap harder, both because Isaac was more used to flying, and the mogknight was holding the Avuir Blue. However, that didn't hold the grey moogle back.

He held his gun up, and fired a shot directly at Isaac's face. Isaac, for his part, rocked his shoulders and let go of his blade for an instant. The sudden added weight dropped him several inches, letting the shot go harmlessly high. Then, he grabbed the blade out of the air again, and faced his opponent.

Much to his surprise, Isaac found the gunner right in front of him, in the middle of a dive with his knife leading. Isaac dropped his gun, and held his blade out in front of himself. The block landed solidly, but the force of the dive forced Isaac backwards. His back slammed into the stone wall, and he was held there, his wings flapping feebly to hold him aloft.

"You're lighter than you should be…" Diesel hissed. "That blade, kupo."

"You just gonna talk, kupo?" Isaac's breathing was harsh, and the block he was holding with his blade was beginning to shake.

"Nah. I had a little something else planned."

With that, Diesel slid his gun out, faster than Isaac could follow, so that the tip of the barrel rested against Isaac's chin. He pulled the trigger.

As the sharp pain erupted in the soft skin under Isaac's jaw, all of his muscles locked up. Diesel released him, and then Isaac was falling. The mogknight felt the fear rising in him, and if they could have, his eyes would have raced to find a way out. As it was, he was forced to stare upwards as he fell, watching Diesel diving after him with his knife. He slammed into the ground, hard, and heard a snapping noise. Pain rocketed through Isaac, centering around his left wing.

The pain brought a sudden focus to Isaac's mind. The moogle blinked, and then turned his gaze upwards, to where Diesel was still diving towards him, knife brandished.

Isaac bit his lip, and pulled himself up, ignoring the stabbing pain from his wing. He ducked under the knife, and then, working more on instinct than skill, reached out to grab Diesel's leading wrist with his paw. He twirled his blade around, and smacked its side against the back of the gunner's head.

Diesel flopped forward, doing a full summersault with the force of his fall. It took him an instant to get his bearings as he rolled, but then he tucked, and placed the palms of his hands by his head. In this way, the moogle continued his momentum, and pushed himself up to his feet. He then turned around, and faced Isaac, knife ready.

As he finished his spin, however, he realized that the battle was officially over. Isaac stood before him, blade pointed straight ahead, the tip resting just beneath the gunner's chin. His left side was slouching down, trying to keep his wing from moving. However, his arm was steady, and his eyes were hard.

"You're done," Isaac told him.

Diesel eyed him carefully, but said nothing.

Neither of them moved, then. They simply waited. Isaac knew that he should probably tie up his opponent, but couldn't trust the gunner long enough to busy himself with the rope. And Diesel? Well, he couldn't move for obvious reasons.

So, it took about two minutes for Eileen to rush up the staircase, orange light leaking out of her, and find the two standing there. Unlike Isaac and Maxwell, she had been prepared for a worst case scenario. All of her spells were cycling through her mind, and even her eyes were glowing orange. There wasn't a thought in her head of anything but battle: she was a combat magic machine.

When she did step out onto the floor and glanced around, it took several seconds for her to realise what was going on. Both Isaac and Diesel felt sweat building on the back of their necks as her glowing gaze came to rest upon them, looking them up and down for several moments.

Nobody breathed for several instants. Then, Eileen slumped forward, and her eyes cleared. She blinked several times, and then, she looked at Isaac.

"You did it."

"Yeah, kupo."

They simply stared at each other for several seconds. Then, Eileen asked, "Where's Maxwell?"

"He's alright, kupo. He lost an engagement against Diesel, so he should still be down for a few minutes. If we—"

Isaac winced suddenly, and gasped in pain. Eileen took a step forward, but Isaac raised his free paw to her, and she stopped. Then, he pointed, and Eileen followed his finger to the priests, still bound in the corner.

"Free them, first, kupo. Jacqueline and Ben need all the help they can get."

Eileen nodded, and set about the task. She made sure they understood her orders, and then they left, rushing down the stairs with spells and weapons ready. Eileen turned to face Isaac, heaving a sigh which caught in her throat. Her eyes widened, and she opened her mouth to speak.

Isaac, however, already knew. He knew what was happening, before it even took place. He simply sighed, and whispered, "It had to be now, kupo?"

"…Isaac…"

"We're both professionals, kupo. Nothing's changed, Thomas. Do your job."

Neither of them moved for several moments. Eileen and Diesel's eyes were locked on the two moogles; Isaac with his blade still held resting beneath Diesel's chin, and Thomas with a knife not quite pressing Isaac's throat, and a throwing dagger in the other paw. He had crept upon him as Eileen was rescuing the priests, and now they were the only two who mattered.

"You're right," Thomas admitted. "I'm a professional. I will do anything to get the job done. However, things _have_ changed…"

With that, Thomas pulled his knife back, lightning fast, and then brought his elbow down to smash into Isaac's broken wing, just below the break. The mogknight arched back and screamed, the blade slipping from his grasp and clattering down onto the floor. Isaac hit the ground, writhing in pain, as Thomas grabbed Diesel and pushed the gunner before him towards the door to the staircase. As he went, Diesel bent down to scoop up his gun, the killing one, and then disappeared from sight up the staircase.

Thomas twirled around, his hat's three points swinging wildly with his momentum, and whipped a dagger out on instinct. It rushed forward, and passed through the ball of concentrated water Eileen had already tossed at him. Thomas went completely into his instincts, then, putting his knife away and producing a pair of throwing daggers. He launched them, and Eileen dove out of the way.

Eileen came back to a crouch, and threw another water attack. Thomas sidestepped this one, pulling a twirl as he did so. His arms whipped out as he came out of the spin, and about eight daggers flew from him, headed towards the alchemist.

She held up her hands, and called to the forces of wind. They obeyed her will, and a whirlwind kicked up several feet in front of her. The knives passed into it, and lost their momentum, simply twirling around in the magical tornado. Eileen worked her magic, and forced the spell to move forward, heading towards the juggler.

Thomas leapt back several steps, and gauged the speed of the spell. He could escape it easily. He began walking to the steps, when he heard a scraping behind him. He turned around, and just barely blocked a slash from the Avuir Blue.

Isaac stood there: sweat matting his fur and the red of his skin showing through. His breathing was heavy, but he stood steady.

"Things have changed, Thomas," Isaac growled, lowering his head and raising his blade.

"Yes they have," Thomas replied, drawing back one knife for a blow.

The two of them exchanged attacks, dizzyingly quick, and went back and forth several steps. Both were conscious of Eileen's whirlwind of knives, inching ever closer to both of them. They fought on, trading ground, but slowly having Isaac advance. Soon, they had backed up into the entrance of the staircase, and both had to limit their attacks somewhat so as not to hit the sides of the walls. Thomas spared a glance over Isaac's shoulder, and saw that the whirlwind was almost upon them. Eileen was right behind, orange light trailing in her wake.

All that Isaac would have to do was dive to the side, and then the wind would fill the passage, dicing Thomas to pieces. He had but one option. He took it.

Thomas disengaged from his battle with Isaac for a moment, and leapt up and back. He landed about two stairs up, and a throwing knife came to his paw. He threw.

He didn't throw for Isaac. From the instant that Isaac saw the weapon leave his enemy's paw, he knew that he wasn't its target. It would pass by his shoulder, and, Isaac could only guess, to Eileen. Thomas couldn't throw it anywhere else.

Isaac turned his head with the knife, watching it fly by in slow motion. He saw its trajectory, and knew it would hit Eileen. She was too close and too fixed on her magic to dodge. It would…

Isaac's right arm moved lightning fast, rising up. It came into position just in time to catch the knife, and let it cut deep into his upper arm. It passed through fur, skin, muscle, nerves, and lodged deep into the bone. Isaac's mouth opened and he roared in pain as it happened. It hurt so much more outside of engagement. Why did it hurt so much…?

Eileen stopped dead where she stood as she stared at Isaac in horror. That wound was serious. There was no way that that could heal over. And it had happened outside of engagement! Isaac would probably never have full use of the arm again, and it was her fault. Her fault! She looked from his arm to his eyes, and then she couldn't look anywhere else.

Isaac knew the situation. They were fighting against Thomas and Diesel. These were the sorts of enemies which his friends couldn't understand combat against. Even Maxwell, the strongest of their group, couldn't bring down Diesel alone. They just weren't used to this kind of fighting. If they got involved in this, one of them would end up dead.

So, as Eileen's eyes settled on Isaac's, she saw something in them that terrified.

An apology.

Just as Eileen understood this, Isaac's left arm, still holding the Avuir Blue, slashed out. It severed the long chain just inside of the staircase entrance, and the top half went careening upwards. An instant later, a giant stone table fell down before the entrance, barring the two of them from each other with a foot of solid stone.


	66. Heroes, Proven and Lost

Isaac stared at the stone wall before him, surprised by his own actions. He hadn't even thought about it. He'd simply realised that his friends would be in danger, and then his arm had moved. And now, he was the only thing standing between the prince and the two assassins.

He dimly heard Eileen pounding away at the stone, and barely caught her voice leaking through the cracks along the sides. There was no way she would get through there. None of her spells were strong enough, unless she was expecting to direct a meteorite down, then up through the tower's doorway, around the staircases and into the stone. Even Eileen couldn't be that good. He hoped not, at least.

Isaac turned, and, after putting down the Avuir Blue, carefully ripped a long strap of cloth off of his shirt. Then he reached up and tied a makeshift sling around his wing. He'd seen Foobar and Clay do it several times in the middle of engagements, whenever a stray arrow or sword cut their wings. Of course, he reminded himself, they'd had help.

Oh well, it would have to do. Isaac hunkered down, and placed his blade's hilt carefully between his teeth. He breathed in, and out. Then, his paw grabbed the hilt of the knife, still protruding from his arm, and ripped it out.

His scream came out muffled past his gag, and his teeth nearly broke on the hard silver. However, they held, and Isaac spat the blade out, gasping.

"Famfrit."

Isaac wiped his paw off on one of his pant legs, leaving a bloody handprint. Then, he grabbed the blade up again, and felt the lightness flood his body.

"Time to work, kupo."

Isaac walked carefully up the stairs, casting his gaze all around, just in case. His memory told him that there was one more floor to go, and then he would be on the roof. That would be the best place to get a shot off at anybody passing by. A clear view, and lots of cover for possible return fire.

Isaac finally found himself standing on the fifth floor, breathing heavily and feeling blood dripping away. Standing on the opposite side of the large, wide room was Thomas, his knives both sheathed. He didn't even look up when Isaac stepped out and raised his blade. He simply spoke, his voice hesitant.

"I don't want to do this, Isaac," the juggler said. "Please, just stop now."

"I can't, kupo. Ask any of my friends. Even you know me better than that."

"I think I know you better than anyone, kupo," Thomas countered. "You can never know anybody until you've opposed them, and believe me, I've set myself against you more than anybody."

"Then tell me why you think that you'll convince me to give in and stop protecting the Prince."

"Because you've seen what the Palace does! It isn't right at all. They're pampered and spoiled brats who don't have any idea how to serve their nation. They want the nation to serve them, kupo."

"So we should kill a thirteen year old prince who still has a chance of learning and changing things? That's the best solution you could come up with?"

"This is the only chance we'll ever have to take them down, kupo. It's only with the technology that Diesel possesses that we can assassinate him. You know that."

"And you know the consequences that that weapon will hold!" Isaac countered. He, too, had lowered his weapon, but his stance was just as agressive as ever. "Think of our own world! How messed up has it become because of those guns? At least in Ivalice you always have a chance. You don't need to have the most powerful weapon or the greatest spells to become the greatest. Anybody can become strong enough to fight and defend themselves, kupo; maybe even make a name for themselves. But with guns? It can all end with a slip of a finger. One bullet, and all your work is completely wasted. Not to mention, wars are completely different. It all comes down to the gun! How long until they start inventing bombs? Missiles? Chemical weapons? A few centuries? A few decades? If Diesel takes rule using the gun, it _will_ come into public use. After that, there's no going back."

"Things aren't perfect in this world either, kupo. Even with all the protections they've put in place, and all the training they do, people still end up over their heads. They still get murdered." Thomas' eyes clouded, and he lowered his head slightly. "It isn't the technology that ruins a world, kupo; it's the people that inhabit it. There's evil no matter where you go."

"Nothing is wholly evil." Isaac raised his blade slowly, taking a deep breath. "But I see I won't convince you, kupo. I hate to do this."

Isaac took a step forward, but stopped as Thomas looked up at him again. His face was pleading.

"Don't do this, Isaac. I don't want to kill you. I really don't, kupo. You're..." he stopped, then went on, "you're the only person I've got left. Don't make me fight you."

Isaac didn't respond. Instead, he simply started his pace again, holding his blade before him.

Thomas sighed, and drew his knives. He, too, started advancing, and they met in the middle of the room.

When their weapons met, it wasn't like they'd just begun fighting. It was as though their weapons had already been ringing off of each other for hours. They were so comfortable and prepared for each other's attacks that it was almost lazy as metal rang off of metal again and again.

That said, the battle, for all its lack of energy, wasn't an easy one. Each moogle was pointedly avoiding looking at the other's eyes, making it difficult for both of them to predict where the other would be moving. They just wanted the battle to be over.

Despite the pain showing on his face, Isaac was pressing Thomas slowly back step after step. His blade sent vibrations up his wrist again and again, telling him that he had been blocked. Each time he felt an impact, Isaac found himself becoming more and more nervous. What if, this time, those vibrations didn't come? What if there was just the soft resistance of skin being parted and cleaved, and he killed Thomas? He had only just come to actually know the juggler. He didn't want it to end. He didn't want to see him dead. But he couldn't give up, either. The prince's life was on the line.

Isaac felt one of Thomas' knives sneaking around his blade's edge, and only just managed to focus his moonlight enough to create a small barrier between his flesh and the steel. The knife passed through the barrier, and nicked the skin over his ribs lightly. Isaac used the opportunity to push the knife away with his chest. Then, he brought his blade around, and checked where they were in relation to the wall.

Well, this was going to hurt.

Isaac slammed his forehead into Thomas' nose, sending the juggler stumbling backwards. While Thomas was dazed, Isaac pushed him bodily back, until Thomas' right side was flush against the wall. The juggler's right arm was pinned against the wall by his own torso. Isaac reached out wildly with the Avuir Blue, until the weapon caught in the extra fabric of Thomas' left sleeve. Isaac pushed the blade all the way through, not catching the moogle's arm at all, and then brought the blade around. He jabbed the blade forward, and felt it slip through both the fabric of the back of Thomas' juggler outfit and right sleeve. Isaac pushed forward, until he felt the blade's tip scratch against the tower's wall.

Grimacing, Isaac leaned forward with all of his weight, and felt stone give way to steel. The moogle pushed until he felt the silver guard of his blade push flush against the stone.

Finally, the mogknight staggered backwards, breathing heavily and sizing up his handiwork.

Thomas was effectively pinned against the tower wall, the blade keeping him in place. The juggler struggled a bit, but the blade wouldn't come loose. Finally, he looked up at Isaac, shaking his head.

"This won't keep me long, kupo."

"Long enough," Isaac said.

The mogknight took off towards the stairs leading up to the roof of the tower at a run. He dimly heard Thomas yelling at him not to, that he would just get himself killed, but blood loss was making it difficult to make out the individual words. He was injured, unarmed, and focused on stopping Diesel.

Isaac stumbled out into the night, the sheer cold only adding to the pain from his wing and his arm. He was near the edge of the roof facing away from the prison. The mogknight swerved around, not quite steady on his feet, to look around the rooftop. There were carved gargoyles sticking out from the wall at regular intervals, leaving sturdy overhangs from which one could easily take a shot. It was perched on the back of one of these gargoyles that Isaac found Diesel, his sniper rifle positioned, lining up a shot. The gunner's finger was on the trigger, and Isaac could dimly hear the sound of chocobos warbling in the streets below, and feet marching forward.

The prince was already there.

Isaac ran forward, his bare feet already numb on the cool stone. He stumbled only once, but it was enough for Diesel to hear. The grey moogle twirled around, and his eyes widened as he saw Isaac tearing towards him.

Despite his surprise, however, Diesel wasn't caught unprepared. He whipped out his knife, and slashed widely at Isaac as the mogknight closed with him. Isaac pulled his gut in to avoid the attack, then took one more step forward, punching out at Diesel as he did so.

His fist caught the gunner full in the face, and the force made Diesel stumble back a step. For a moment, he was on the edge of the tower, his arms pinwheeling in horror as he balanced on the edge. Isaac took another weak step forward, and lunged forward to push Diesel over the edge.

The gunner, however, was much more agile than Isaac had expected. He managed to regain his balance an instant before the mogknight reached him, and sidestepped the punch. He sent his elbow sideways, and it smashed Isaac in the cheek.

Isaac was not possessed of the same clear head or grace as Diesel. He simply went down, flat on his back. His impact jarred his wing, sending a shot of agony through him. Isaac opened his mouth to scream, but at that instant Diesel was on him, leaning heavily on his chest. Isaac wheezed as the weight of the moogle sent his limbs spread eagle, trying to keep the weight off his wing.

Diesel drew his knife back, and in one vicious stabbing motion, brought it back down. The blade touched down on Isaac's right palm, and stabbed through. It passed all the way through the paw, ripping tendons and snapping bones. Then, it connected with the stone beneath, and went in about an inch before stopping.

Isaac made not a move for a moment after this, eyes wide with shock. Then, the pain caught up with him, and a scream ripped from his lips.

* * *

Maxwell's vision was cloudy for several moments as he regained consciousness. His entire mind was in a haze. He recognized it, however. It wasn't the first time that he'd lost an engagement. There was always the drowsiness, mixed with a bit of memory loss for a few moments.

He blocked out everything else and focused on what he remembered. What had he been doing? Who was he fighting? Why was he lying on a worked stone floor? Where were the others?

His mind was blank for several moments. Then, the lightbulb went off, and his eyes snapped open.

"Adrammalech!" he swore, jumping up to his feet. He turned around, and looked about the room.

What he found was surprising indeed. All of the priests appeared to have escaped, somehow or another. The chains which had bound them now lay vacant on the floor. Also missing was Diesel, that damned moogle he'd been fighting. So what was the explanation? Had his friends come and won the battle for him?

This possibility disappeared from his mind as he turned and saw Eileen. She was leaning against the door that led up to the next level, which, strangely enough, appeared to have been sealed. She was beating on it with her fists, and even from where he stood, Maxwell identified the blood dripping down from torn fingernails. She'd been scraping at it. There were also wet spots and burns all over the solid stone, identifying her spells.

"Eileen," Maxwell said. She turned around, and he saw that her eyes were red from crying. "What's wrong?"

"It's Isaac," she said. "H-he..."

"Start at the beginning," Maxwell advised. "Take your time."

"We don't have any time!" she spat, glaring at him. "Isaac is up there fighting Thomas and Diesel right now, and he doesn't have any judgepoints! He closed the door so that none of us would follow him."

Maxwell was very silent for what seemed like an eternity after this. His face was a mask of thought, with thousands of gears spinning behind it to find an answer of some sort. That door was too heavy for him to move bodily aside. There was only one way that it was going to open.

"Stand back," he ordered. Once she'd done so, Maxwell reached down, and slowly drew his blade, holding it carefully and steadily. "Let's see if this works."

Maxwell began concentrating. Slowly, every so slowly, all of existence started leaning into him, bending to his will.

* * *

Isaac's eyes were darting rapidly, racing from thing to thing. The pain was overriding everything. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't move. The few times he tried moving, he remembered that his hand was veritably nailed to the floor, and crippling pain would rush up his arm.

His eyes caught a glimpse of grey, and locked on that splotch of colour for a moment. They followed it as it moved, slowly crouching down before a long black splotch. It seemed to be fiddling with the thing ever so slightly, and then it leaned forward.

Deep within the recesses of his mind, a single thought came to him: _gun._

Clarity came to Isaac for one blinding instant. Not even thinking, Isaac threw his foot out far to the side as Diesel pulled the trigger.

* * *

Thomas pulled and pulled at the fabric, trying to rip it free. He didn't care anymore. He didn't care about the damned mission or the damned prince or any of that. At the current moment, the only thing that mattered in his mind was getting to Isaac and placing his own skin in between the mogknight and Diesel.

The gunner would show no mercy.

Suddenly, in the midst of Thomas' struggling, a single, loud crack went off, reverberating and amplifying down the staircase to his ears. After that, there was deadly silence.

Thomas didn't even think. He roared, threw himself, and felt the fabric rip apart at the seams. He stumbled out of his captivity, and shook himself once to get the feeling back into his arms. Then, he reached to the ground to grab his knives, and ran up the staircase.

* * *

Maxwell had thought that he understood power. He'd always thought that the strength he possessed had been true power. It had been enough to protect himself and his friends, so he'd figured that there could be no greater power.

Oh, how he'd been wrong.

It felt, in that moment, like everything was slowly beginning to revolve around him. Part of Maxwell thought that he should be twirling and moving with it, but a much more powerful instinct told him simply to stay where he was and direct it.

Direct it? Everything, quite literally _everything, _wanted _him_ to direct it?

Maxwell lowered his head as he felt the pace beginning to pick up with the revolving of existence. A bit more. He needed a bit more.

* * *

Isaac's foot hit the barrel of the gun just as Diesel's finger pulled the trigger all the way back. His kick knocked the gun's angle off just the tiniest bit. This, in any close range shooting, would have had no effect whatsoever on the effectiveness of the shot.

However, when aimed at a target over two hundred metres away, a single degree meant a world of difference. As such, the bullet which was intended to be lodged deep into Prince Mewt's skull flew instead several metres to the right, and blew the head off of a young bangaa guard keeping watch.

Diesel watched his bullet, his one chance, fly, but he knew from the outset that it wouldn't land at its target. He watched the explosion of red as it buried itself instead in the bangaa a few metres away. His paws balled into shaking fists as a nearby white furred nu mou leapt upon the prince, and then disappeared with a tiny flash.

"You made me miss, kupo." The gunner's voice was even, but just barely.

Isaac didn't understand. He was done. His body couldn't take anymore, and it was only the pain that kept his consciousness from fleeing fully from his battered form. Thus, he didn't exactly feel the fear as Diesel slowly picked up his sniper rifle, and pointed it, with a shaking hand, towards him.

"You made me miss," he repeated, his voice shaking. "You _made me miss_!"

His hand shook as he reloaded and carefully cocked the gun. He held it up to his eye, which thinned to a slit.

"You can't make me miss this shot."

He was right. Isaac could do nothing to make him miss. He was helpless. The gunner took a deep, steadying breath, and then began pulling the trigger.

At that moment, Thomas hit the grey moogle in a flying tackle from the side, bringing his full weight against him. The gun went off, blowing a chunk out of one of the gargoyles, before it was knocked from Diesel's grip and sent skittering across the roof. Diesel barely had time to breathe before Thomas' lead knife snaked in and made sure that the grey moogle would never be able to again. Red blood splattered up, staining Thomas' torn clothes and white fur. He didn't care. He drove both knives in deep, each one reaching for a different fatal point on his opponent's body.

* * *

Suddenly, Maxwell knew it. It was time. He had to strike now. If not, the energy would destroy him. The dragoon, slowly and majestically, swerved his blade around, so that he held it ready to strike. Then, the roar of everything that ever was and ever would be died down for an instant, just to listen as he said one word.

"Ultima."

Maxwell brought the blade down, the full weight of creation coming with it. Energy blasted out of him, more than he could possibly comprehend, and smashed into the door. Without even a moment's hesitation, it flew inwards, and blew apart into billions of tiny sand grains. The sand fell across the stone, and came slowly down the steps in a cascade.

Maxwell took two steps back, staggering after releasing the attack. However, when he remembered what he had to do, he took three more steps forward. On the third step, he jumped and launched himself up the stairs. He had to help Isaac.

* * *

Thomas stood up slowly, staring down at his handiwork. Not wishing to see it anymore, he gave the body a rough shove, sending it falling off the side of the tower. His chest heaved, and he coughed once. Then, he walked over to Isaac.

He groaned when he saw the comatose moogle's new wound. It had gone straight through the paw. There was no doubt that the limb was completely ruined. Not that his own knife had helped the matter by getting him in the arm, he realised guiltily, but this...?

He would never use that hand again. That was obvious. Still, there was a chance to maybe save some of the limb if he got the mogknight down to the priests fast enough.

"Alright, Isaac," Thomas whispered, as he leaned on the right arm to keep him from moving. "This is gonna hurt like hell, kupo, but it has to be done."

The juggler carefully wrapped his paw around the hilt of the knife. Isaac whimpered in pain, even at just that little contact.

"Shit, Isaac," Thomas murmured. He closed his eyes, and had to lean over and place his forehead against Isaac's good shoulder. He took several deep breaths. "I'm so sorry, kupo. For everything. I can't make this hurt any less."

With that, he put all his weight against Isaac, and ripped the knife out. Isaac's body arched, and he screamed so loudly that Thomas had to pull his head away from him slightly. Had Isaac always been this loud, or was it a new thing?

Thomas stood back up to catch his breath, and it was at this moment that Maxwell ran up the stairs and turned around.

Max's eyes took in the situation in a quick glance. Isaac was lying on the ground, blood leaking away from him. Thomas stood above him, covered in blood, holding a knife.

His mind came to the only reasonable conclusion.

Maxwell flew forward, bellowing in rage. Thomas glanced up just before he was hit, and in that instant, the dragoon was more dragon than bangaa. Then, a massive fist crushed Thomas' nose, sending a stream of his own blood down into his mouth. Thomas started flying backwards with the force, but was caught by the same hand that had punched him. Maxwell turned and whipped Thomas at the ground, sending him flailing like a ragdoll.

Thomas ended up on his back, and lay there, gasping for breath past the pain of dozens of broken bones. It was a wasted effort. An instant later, Maxwell's blade sliced into his chest, ripping in one side and out the other.

Thomas' eyes went wide. They slowly moved down to look at the steel implement sticking out of his body. What was happening? It didn't hurt... It just was. He could feel some sort of burning coming from that part of his chest, but it didn't quite make its way through to his brain. He simply stared.

An instant later, he coughed, and blood came up his throat to fill his mouth with metallic bitterness.

Slowly, Maxwell lifted Thomas up to his own eye level by the very blade he was impaled upon. He brought the moogle very close to him, and whispered into his face, "Nobody lays a finger on _my_ friends."

Thomas simply shuddered, and thought about Carl.

Maxwell lunged his hand forward, then stopped it abruptly to let the moogle's body slip off its edge. Thomas fell backwards a few feet, over the edge of the tower, and dropped. He didn't even feel the wind whipping past him. He couldn't feel anything anymore.

He fell, his body broke upon the cobbled stones, and he knew no more.


	67. First Cracks

The figure stole across the rooftops, a flash of tan across the equally tan levels of roofs. His steps were sure as he ran, as though he had memorized each one in advance. Whenever he reached the edge of a roof, he would simply step off from the ledge of his current roof, then flew over the gap. His foot would touch down again on the next roof, and he would keep moving as though nothing had happened.

He paused, panting, on one of the roofs, and glanced around surreptitiously. He shielded his eyes against the low sun, signalling the approaching night. His blue eyes, barely visible above a tan veil, scanned both the rooftops around him, and the streets below. Upon finding nothing, he shouldered his pack, and leapt up to the ledge of the roof.

He took several deep breaths, staring across at the tower in front of him. The Tower of Adrammalech. There was a window staring out at him, wide open.

One last jump.

His feet kicked off from the sandstone. He flew, arms outstretched, flying the distance. It was a jump of at least two metres, but he was confident that he'd make it.

That was, at least, until he'd gone the first metre, and realised that he was carrying several extra pounds of weight in his pack. He found himself, almost in slow motion, moving downward, and out of line with the large window's opening.

When he finally reached the far side, the figure had to throw out his hands wildly to catch the ledge. His lower body flopped down, smashing hard into the stone outer wall. His breath flew from his lungs, and he scrabbled at the stones, hacking and wheezing.

Very slowly, a head leaned out from the window. Its features were mostly invisible, due to the long swathe of silver hair which hung down around the face. However, the pair of long, brown rabbit ears sticking out from the top were clearly evident.

"I thought you said that you 'ad th'agility of a cat?" Jacqueline said.

"Extra weight," Ben managed to gasp out past his empty lungs. "Help?"

"I dunno. Should I?"

"Please?"

"Alright."

Jacqueline reached down, and wrapped grabbed onto the fabric of his cloak, just behind the shoulders. She heaved, and Ben pulled, and the mage was slowly raised up into the open window.

Once Ben was finally halfway through the window, he waved her off, and simply rolled into the room. He came up to his feet, and brushed some dust off of his borrowed clothes.

"Is he awake yet?" he asked, glancing up at Jacqueline.

"No. 'Asn't moved."

"Right. I managed to find some food."

"Knew you would."

"Found something else, too."

"Oh?"

Ben's casual grin flickered slightly, showing a bit of worry. "News."

Jacqueline nodded, without comment, and gestured towards a staircase leading downward.

The two went down the steps, and into the next floor. This one had been set up to be the unofficial base of operations for their current situation. Ben nodded to a templar who walked up, passing him his bag laden with supplies. Then, he pulled off the long, tan cloak he'd borrowed from the tower, and began folding it up as he approached Eileen and Maxwell.

The two of them stood in the corner, speaking in hushed voices. When they looked up at Jacqueline and Ben, both the nu mou and the bangaa had heavy bags under their eyes. For one horrible moment as Ben was approaching them, he thought he saw the faces of the bitter, wrinkled old nu mou and bangaa adventurers he always saw who just screamed used up potential. A moment later, however, his friends were there again.

"First things first," Ben said, clearing his throat. "Lini and Quin are in the city. They'll try to get here tonight, after the sun sets. Right now they're about five minutes away. I've also managed to find out where Clan Nutsy is hiding. They're hiding about twenty minutes away, at a pub called _the Final Straw_. They're pretty much locked up there, what with the curfew and everything."

"Just like us?" Eileen said. Unlike usual, there wasn't the smile on her face. Her eyes were hard, yet her voice was oddly soft.

"Just like us," Ben nodded. He took a deep breath before continuing. "Now for the bad news."

The other three all started at that comment, staring at him.

"The palace is tightening the lockdown," Ben explained, and there were groans from the other three. "They're bringing in quite literally any officials they can and enlisting outside help from every source to figure out what happened. They want complete control of the city. Nobody's going to move without their permission for at least a week."

"People'll start starving," Jacqueline exclaimed. "They can't be serious!"

"They are. You should see who they're calling in. They've got a team of Alchemists coming in from Cadoan tonight. There are about _eighty_ judges in the city, including the judgemaster. There're even rumours that they've enlisted the help of some bandit clans to help maintain control."

"It will not be enough," Maxwell said, speaking for the first time since the beginning of the conversation. Everyone looked to him, and saw that he was shaking his head slowly, as though he were balancing a boulder on top of it. "Once the food in everybody's larders runs out, they cannot expect the citizens to simply sit back and starve to death. We are in the city of the bangaas; they will rebel. Violently."

"We know that," Eileen said. She leaned against the stone, tilting her head back so that the wall also supported its weight. "It's the palace that can't get it through their thick skulls."

At this moment, a templar stepped up onto their floor. They glanced over as he made a direct line for them. He bowed as he approached, and then began speaking.

"Sssirsss and madamsss," he said, using the annoying titles the priests had bestowed upon them. "There isss a visssitor here to ssssee you."

"Visitor?" Eileen asked. "Nobody's supposed to know that we're here."

"He wishessss to meet you," he said. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, and whispered, "I ssssuggesssst that you not keep him waiting."

The four looked at each other. After a few moments, Maxwell turned to the templar and nodded. The templar bowed again, then led them off towards the staircase.

They went down two floors before they were on the main one. As soon as she stepped down onto the main floor, Eileen sucked in a sharp breath, and staggered slightly. Maxwell, walking behind her, lunged forward and caught her from falling. Ben and Jacqueline, hearing her, turned to look.

"Power," she explained to their questioning looks. Her eyes were wide. "More magical power than I've felt in a long time."

"Are you fine for walking?" Maxwell asked, pulling her back up to a standing position.

"Yes. I am."

The four of them continued walking, heading towards the main doors. The head priest, standing by the door, bowed to them and got out of their way as they approached. This gave them a perfect view of the white furred nu mou standing in the doorway before them.

His air was, to say the least, majestic. Even whilst simply standing there, his posture gave all four of the friends a distinct feeling of being below him. Though his nose was tipped up at a bit of an angle, his eyes met each of the companions squarely as they approached. When those eyes settled upon Ben, the blue mage knew that that unwavering gaze had already made its own decisions about his abilities, and that it had stored them away for safekeeping.

His clothing mimicked this impression of perfection. Simple, compared to the garb of many mages they'd met, they were simply a pearl white pair of pantaloons. Over this was a blue gown with large cuffs and a white collar, and a small, bright yellow star stitched in just below the neck.. For adornment, he wore a golden chain around his neck, and a pair of fingerless leather gloves, dyed a light teal colour.

The only flaw on this figure's entire person, in fact, were the two huge scars which wound around both ears. It looked as though they'd been ripped cleanly off and then sewn back on at one point. Though Ben felt the impulse to ask, he bit it back. He doubted such a figure would appreciate that kind of talk.

"You are the four who helped prevent my master's assassination." It was a statement, not a question.

"We are," Eileen spoke for them, though even her voice trembled.

"Ah," the nu mou said. His eyes softened somewhat as he turned to the head priest. "Please, leave us. I wish to speak to these young people alone. Thank you for your help."

"Of courssssse, sssssir," the bishop bowed.

Once the bangaa had left the room, the nu mou turned back to them. His shoulders, which had been as tight and rigid as a board, drooped slightly, and he let ut a sigh.

"My name is Babus Swain," the nu mou explained, "and I offer you my most heartfelt thanks."

Then, in a very disconcerting movement, the nu mou got on one knee, and bowed to them. All four friends simply stared at him, not quite knowing how to react.

Finally, after a far longer moment of awkwardness than any of them would have liked, Eileen said, "Really, there is no need to thank us. We didn't even do most of the work. It was our friend who actually stopped the shot…"

"Ah," Babus said, nodding gravely. "I heard some of the report which the soldiers gave. My condolences for his pain. How is the moogle?"

"Isaac," Jacqueline cut in, being careful to accentuate his name, "'asn't woken up yet. 'E's bin in a coma since th' fight. Blood loss 'n' all."

"Right." Babus looked uncomfortable. "What do the priests here say of his recovery?"

"'E prob'ly won't be making one," Jacqueline answered.

For a moment, Babus looked very alarmed. Eileen added, very quickly, "Don't worry, the mages said that he would be coming out of the coma. It's just his hand. It'll never have full movement again."

"I am sorry." Babus looked it. His face was contorted, almost in what looked like guilt.

"It wasn't your fault," Ben said. "You couldn't have predicted that somebody would try to assassinate the prince, and after that, you couldn't have predicted that that dam—" Eileen shot him a look, and Ben bit his words off in a sharp cough. Then, he continued, "Er, that darned moogle would go so bloody far to stop it."

"But it is my duty to protect the prince," Babus explained. "I _should_ have predicted the possibility and prevented it. My failure caused your friend's injury, and for that, again, I apologize."

"The blame isn't solely yours to bear," Maxwell rumbled, his low voice barely audible.

At this statement, Babus looked sharply at him, a question in his eyes. However, it disappeared an instant later, as the nu mou nodded slowly. "I had heard that you were all very close-knit. Quite the force to be reckoned with."

"Excuse me?" Eileen said this. She couldn't keep the alarm out of her voice, and Ben had to agree. What did the palace know about them?

Babus shook his head slowly, and again that air of nobility came to him. "It shouldn't surprise you to know that we know a good deal about the five of you. Eileen Mindclear; first female Alchemist, trained under Professor Auggie and Quin, the Archmage of Cadoan, widely considered as one of the strongest Alchemists with the Master ranking.

"Jacqueline, the Scarlet Rapier; first ever winner of Ivalice Fencing Championship in rookie year, one of the youngest red mages ever to master the doublecasting technique, recently, with limited support from Clan Ritz, brought in one Helene Gendarme, rated second most dangerous bounty in Ivalice.

"Ben the Blue Ninja; trained as career thief and ninja in Cadoan Thieves' Guild, working up a long list of petty crimes before, after apparently disappearing for several months, graduating to murder, disappeared for some time after that, borderline expert combat blue mage with affinity for panthers, cleared name by claiming amnesty on prince of Cadoan Thieves' Guild.

"Maxwell the Dragoon; free-ranging bangaa dragoon for some time, before being captured and forced to work as gladiator in jagds, there learnt spellblade techniques and became legendary in underground world, considered amongst top dragoons in world.

"Finally, your friend, Isaac; appeared mysteriously from the sky, trained mechanic, expert sharpshooter, hand trained in blade combat by Lini the mogknight."

All four of the friends became increasingly uncomfortable, their eyes barely even blinking. Babus glanced at them, and let out a small laugh.

"You didn't think we were keeping tabs? Any one of you alone would be worth keeping an eye on. However, once the five of you are combined, and you see some of your group accomplishments, it would take a very stupid person to be unconcerned by you. Defeating Caesar, numerous encounters with Ultimates, battling the Worldwyrm?" Babus' smile widened slightly. "The five of you are very impressive."

"Thanks," Eileen muttered, no emotion in her voice. "Good to know somebody cares."

"Still, I must be going. I've been ordered to confirm the identity of the renegade Marche. I promise, I will see what I can do about getting her majesty to break the curfew and allow a fully trained White mage into this tower. So long as you are here, you are under my personal protection." He smiled a small bit again, but in a slightly more reserved manner than before. "It is the least I can do to thank you. Good bye."

The four of them hurried to bid him goodbye, but even as they began forming the words, there was bright flash, and the nu mou disappeared.

Their mouths moved for a few seconds, not making any noise. Then, Ben managed to sum up all of their thoughts in one sentence:

"He scares me."

"You don't even know his reputation," Eileen said, reaching up to rub her eyes. "That's potentially the strongest spellcaster in Ivalice."

"So should we be flattered or terrified that he came to see us himself?"

"I would say both."

They were all quiet for a time after this. Ben found himself arranging and rearranging the dusty cloak in his hands, waiting for somebody else to speak. He didn't want to be the person to ask the next question. He already knew how it would play out, and it wasn't going to be pretty.

It was Jacqueline who asked the question, and suddenly, Ben wished he'd asked.

"So, what're we doing?"

"There's not much that we _can _do," Ben stated, almost before the question was out of her mouth. "It's hard enough for me to get around without being noticed. It may be arrogant, but I'm one of the best in the business at being stealthy. We don't stand a chance of going unnoticed."

"Then why use stealth?" Maxwell said, his voice low. "If we launch a direct attack, it won't take long for others to join in. We'll push the palace out of the city, and—"

"And leave Isaac alone in here?" Eileen snapped. "He risked his life for us, and you just want to leave him?"

"He wouldn't want us to just sit here and do nothing while people outside were starving to death," Maxwell countered, turning to her with a hard look on his face.

"And neither would you if your situations were reversed," Eileen muttered, "but he still would have waited by your side until you woke up. He probably wouldn't sleep until he knew you were alright."

"Well that's the difference between us, then, isn't it?"

"Clearly. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm right."

"I'm sorry, but I have to side with Maxwell," Jacqueline butted in. The other two looked at her sharply, but she didn't back down. "I can't just sit here. Every day's driving me crazy. I need t' get out and do something."

Ben's stomach tightened, and he felt like he was about to throw up. Still, he managed to open his mouth, and say, keeping his voice level, "I won't get involved in a fight that we can't win."

"We _can_ win this fight!" Maxwell said, his head swivelling around to glare at the mage. "There's enough fighting force in Sprohm to turn back the forces that are gathered right now. We'll get them out, and then..."

"I've never thought of you as one to run into things without thinking them through," Ben replied calmly. "I'm actually kind of frightened that I'm the only one thinking like this. But still, what happens after we've rushed out and fought off all the guards? What then? We stay here, locked in the desert city, defending it against the siege that the palace _will_ launch against us? Lead a rebellion against the most powerful institution in the continent? Is that what you want with your life? To be the military revolutionary?"

"It's a life with meaning," Maxwell growled. "Wouldn't it be worth it, to know we'd made a difference?"

"I'm scared, Maxwell." Ben was yelling now. He felt light to the head, and his breathing was heavy. "We're fifteen years old! We're not ready to lead revolutions! And besides, I don't want to. I don't want all of that responsibility on me, because it's too much for somebody our age to handle. We can't do this."

"Issss that your excusssse?" Maxwell was yelling too, hands shaking. "You're too afraid? You're too young? That'sss no reason. You've never had any problem with any of the suicide missions we've gone on before now. What's different?"

"The difference now is that instead of five of us, we're talking about an entire city! I know that the four of you are strong enough to protect yourselves and each other without me having to be responsible for you. But this is millions of lives, Maxwell. I can't take that responsibility; I can't take responsibility for _one_ life and keep them safe! How are we supposed to lead a city? Max, you might be that person, but I _never_ will be."

Maxwell leaned in very close to Ben, until their foreheads were pressing up against each other, and said a single word which helped to seal all of their fates for years to come.

"Coward."

Lightning fast, Ben's hand shot up and across, and Maxwell went reeling backwards with his hands covering his face. Jacqueline cried out, and Eileen simply stared openly as Maxwell slowly pulled his hands away from his face, showing three parallel scratches running from just below his eyes down to the tip of his left lip. They were oozing blood slowly, dripping down into the bangaa's gasping mouth. His eyes were wide as he looked at Ben, whose right hand was covered in red fur and tipped with sharp claws. Ben's chest was heaving, but his eyes were equally wide as he stared at his paw.

Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. They were all stuck as they were; statues of themselves in a terrible portrayal of a turning point of Ivalice.

Then, Ben gasped, and the fur pulled back into his hands. He took a step back, staring at the blood on Maxwell's face. Then, he turned, and ran, heading straight up the stairs and out of sight. He dimly heard light footsteps following him up through the floors, and saw the surprised faces of priests as he passed them by. However, he didn't stop until he'd reached up to the top of the tower, and was standing in the open air and failing sunlight. There, his knees finally gave out, and he pushed his head into the hard stone beneath him.

"Oh Mateus," he breathed. "Oh Mateus."

He didn't make any comment when he heard Jacqueline step up to the roof behind him, nor when she sat down slowly beside him, reaching over to drape an arm around his shaking form. He simply remained in his collapsed kneeling position, shaking occasionally, and whispering, "Oh Mateus."

* * *

Eileen paused at the wooden door before her, and then knocked hesitantly. She waited in the half-darkness, counting out her breaths to calm her nerves. Her hand, resting against the wall to support herself, was shaking, and her teeth chattered as she drew in another shuddering breath.

On the fifth knock, the door opened slowly, showing a wrinkled old bangaa who squinted at her in the dim staircase.

"Yessss?"

"How is he?"

"Fine, fine. If you would like, you could come in and speak with him. I can do no more until I've rested for some time."

"Thank you," she nodded to the bishop. He pulled the door open, and ushered her in quickly. Eileen was surprised, as always, by the heat in the room, but didn't complain. White magic functioned better in warmer climates, so the hotter the better.

She approached the medical table that Isaac was stretched out on carefully, eying him up and down as she did so. His blade was lying on a table a few feet away from him, with the fedora resting on top of it.

He was looking better. Far better than he had when Maxwell had carried his barely breathing body down the stairs from the roof three days earlier, both covered in blood. The healers had removed his clothes and replaced them with a simple set of white medical garments. At current, his shirt was removed, giving Eileen a clear view of his ruined right arm.

The puncture in the upper arm was mostly sealed over. There was a scar, probably two inches long, where the hole had been, and even that had started fading a bit. She couldn't see his right paw; it was bound tightly in a length of medical bandage. Eileen reached forward slowly, and ran a finger through his short headfur.

"His paw?"

"I've finally managed to seal up the wound. I'm quite certain now that he'll be able to keep the limb, now. If he gets moved, however..." The bangaa shook his head. "I don't know."

"Right." She reached up, and rubbed the skin between her eyes as hard as she could. "Would you mind if I had a moment alone with him."

"Of courssse, of courssssssse," the bishop told her. "I need to resssst, anyway. Sssimply find me ssshould he awaken."

"Thank you," she nodded, watching him go. After the door shut, she waited until she could no longer hear his steps going up the stairs, back to the main floor. Then, she placed her face into her hands, and said, "I'm so sorry, Isaac."

She was perfectly quiet for a good time after this. The weight of the ring on her finger seemed even heavier than usual, as though reminding her of her agreement. That only made her guilt even stronger.

"I can't explain it, Isaac," she told him, looking at his closed eyes. "But you were the last person I wanted to see in this position. I knew it had to happen to one of us, but... you?" She gasped, and then reached forward, this time ruffling her hand through his headfur. "This is the worst I could imagine. And the worst thing is that..." She stopped again, and this time, she actually sobbed. Then, she continued, hiccupping and coughing occasionally in her speech. "Please. It's not fair, you should rest, because once you wake up, things are going to go to hell. But please, just wake up. I... I need you. I never realized just how badly, but I need you. We all do. I mean, if it weren't for you, then I'd be dead. Ben would probably be dead, or still running for his life. Jacqueline would just be fighting those meaningless battles, and Max would either be dead or half crazy. Without you, we just fall apart. So please, just... come back. Please."

She waited, her vision blurry, for perhaps a full minute for something to happen. She watched him, paying attention to his breathing; his closed eyes; all of the muscles she could see. She barely breathed as she watched, waiting for the slightest ruffle in his fur, watching for him to twitch.

Then, she coughed once, and placed her head carefully down on his good arm, letting it support her weight.

* * *

"I'm not a coward."

Jacqueline glanced over to Ben, surprised by his voice. It was the first time that he'd said anything other than his totema's name since she'd caught up with him. He hadn't looked up yet, still crouched in his defeated ball, staring at the stone beneath him.

"I'm not a coward," he repeated. "I just don't want to lose anybody else."

"I know," she told him, kneading the muscles in his back with her hand.

"No, you don't. They all die. Everybody who means something to me in this world; they keep on getting killed. I don't want to have to deal with this again."

"Max didn' mean what 'e said," Jacqueline said. "'E's just on edge. We all are. That's why that 'appened."

"It's this thing with Isaac," he said, as though he hadn't even heard her words. "When he found me... I thought it was different. I thought that because all of you were my friends before I came here, that maybe nothing would happen to him. And the rest of you, too. I thought you guys were invincible."

"Nobody's invincible, Ben, no matter where we go." Jacqueline took a deep breath, then continued. "This world isn't any different 'n the last. We can still get 'urt, and we can still get killed. We knew it would 'appen to one of us eventually."

"But I thought it would be me," Ben whispered. "I wanted it to be me. I didn't accept that one of you might get hurt; all along, it was going to be me that died covering your escape, or blocking an arrow, or leading the charge against an army. It didn't make sense any other way."

Jacqueline didn't answer for a very long time after this. She kept trying to find the words that would comfort Ben, but they didn't come. Finally, she simply told him, "I felt the same."

There was silence for some time after this. Then, Ben said, his voice hoarse, "Don't leave me. Promise me that you'll never leave me alone."

Jacqueline leaned over, and pulled him close to her so she could wrap both arms around him. "I promise."

They remained like that for a few minutes, simply watching the sun as it dropped below the horizon. The night was almost upon them when Jacqueline whispered, "I'm going to check on Maxwell. He looked pretty bad when I left."

"Alright."

They kissed once, and it was different than any other they'd shared before. It was more an act of desperation than passion, of needing to absorb and feel as much of the other as they could. When they parted, Jacqueline waited several seconds, panting, before she got up, and walked across the roof to the stairs leading downwards.

Below, if either of them had cared to look, they would have seen a full unit of the palace's guards heading through the empty streets towards the tower.

* * *

Maxwell looked up from where he sat as he heard the steps coming down from above. They were light, far lighter than any bangaa's tread. He knew before she even came down the last flight that it was Jacqueline, returning from wherever Ben was stationed. He stood slowly, and nodded to her.

"Hey," he said, not knowing what else to say.

"'Ey," she replied evenly.

The two stared at each other for some time after this, neither wanting to make the first move. However, the tension broke when Maxwell flinched and grabbed his face, a sudden spasm of pain shooting up to it. He tried to recover and look back up at Jacqueline, but she was already walking towards him.

"Lemme deal wi' that."

"I'm fine."

"You're bleeding across yer face. You're not fine."

Max was about to argue some more, but as he opened his mouth, he tasted his own blood, and sighed.

"Fine."

She stepped up close to him, and placed her hand over his face. Jacqueline's eyes closed for a moment, and white light flooded from her fingers to seep into his cuts. They slowly pulled together, clotting instantly and sending lines of new skin across to fill in the missing space.

Jacqueline's fingers shook, and she pulled her hand back, letting the light die.

"That's as much 's I can do outside of engagement."

"Thanks." Maxwell backed up, trying not to look at Jacqueline. He found his back against the wall, and stopped, trying to lean casually back.

The two stared at each other for a long time after this, each consciously feeling the tension rising.

"So..." Jacqueline started. "Did you mean what you said? Not 'bout Ben," she added quickly, seeing his face. "I mean what you said 'bout taking the city. Driving out the palace?"

"Of course," he said, glad to have something other than the confrontation to speak about. "I have stood by far too long while unjust rulers were in control. I cannot resolve myself to waiting as the people starve to death. I will fight for them, and I will lead them."

"Alrigh'," she nodded, her hand unconsciously flexing on the hilt of her rapier. "I agree. I'll come with you and fight 'til this city's free. What's 'appening 'ere isn't right."

"Excellent." Maxwell sighed, and visibly relaxed. "I need all of the help that I can get."

"Not so fast," Jacqueline cautioned, and Maxwell's gaze became sharp again. "I won' leave tonight. Tomorrow morning, maybe, but no sooner. I want a chance to convince Eileen 'n' Ben, and maybe for Isaac to wake up."

"Alright. But if not, we shall break out at noon tomorrow."

"Good."

The two nodded to each other, and were about to leave, when there came a sudden pounding on the door.

* * *

Eileen's head shot up, shocked from her reverie by the sharp cracks echoing down the stairs. She blinked half-sleep from her eyes, and glanced down quickly at Isaac.

He hadn't moved. Not at all.

Eileen sighed, and looked towards the door to the staircase as a second round of knocks came down. She shook her head, and stood up, heading towards the main floor of the tower.

Ben caught sight of the guards when they were about a block away. In a glance, he managed to trace their path, and realised exactly where they were headed. His eyes widened, and he felt his pulse rising slowly.

There had to be at least forty guards there. Maybe fifty. And they didn't look like they were coming for a spot of tea. No, they were armed to the teeth, many of them having already drawn their weapons.

"Shit," he whispered, and then he was running, tearing across the roof, and jumping clean down the first flight of stairs. He hit the bottom in a roll, and several of the priests stared at him as he continued running. He went through the first floor without a word, and then hopped into the next staircase. He heard the bangaa coming up the stairs before he saw him, and, on instinct, clamped his hands onto the hand rail. He jumped off of the steps, and pulled himself towards the wall just as the surprised priest stepped around the corner. Ben flew by him in the air, barely an inch between them, and released the handrail.

The ninja landed on his hands at the bottom of the stairs, and rolled to take the impact. He came straight back up to his feet as he ran, going towards the next staircase. He had to beat those guards to the door. Those were his thoughts as he raced down floor after floor. He had to. He had to prevent them from opening the door. If they managed to keep the door shut, maybe they could hold it. They would hold the guards off, at least until Lini and Quin arrived, and then they could put Maxwell's stupid plan into action. So long as he just got to the fricking door.

Ben rounded the corner in the last staircase, and once again leapt the last steps. He went about eight feet forward, and landed in another roll. He came up into a crouch, and yelled.

"Don't open the door!"

* * *

An infinite distance away, infinite because the location wasn't anywhere in the world that this drama was playing out, Marche and Babus stood, each one teetering on exhausted legs. Marche was covered in burns, his knightsword smudged with ash and soot. Sweat was running down his brow, and his chest was heaving.

Across from him was Babus. He was a far cry from the elegantly clad spellcaster he had been earlier that day when he'd visited the Tower of Adrammalech. His robes were ripped in dozens of places, and blood was pouring from several wounds. His eyes had the glazed appearance of one who had used up most or all of their magical energy.

Lying between them was the fourth worldthread, that known as Exodus. Exodus' incarnation, a gigantic plant being, coated the rocky chamber, its shattered fruits covering the floor. It was even entwined around the crystal itself. In the floor around the ruined sprouts, there were more burn marks, and also deep scores and slashes wrought directly into the rock.

"Is all this true?" Babus demanded, eying the youth carefully.

"It is," a third figure replied. Both of them started, and turned to stare at the figure, a man who appeared to be a judge. The only difference between him and a normal judge was the fact that he wore no helmet, and the gigantic sword which hung at his back. His eyes were wide, confused, but accepting.

"It's all true," he murmured. "I remember now. I remember everything."

"Judgemaster, sir!" Babus said, eyes wide.

"Once we get back," the man said, shifting uncomfortably on his chocobo, "this boy is to be released, and the judges' charges against him dropped."

"How do we get back, then?" Babus asked, looking around. There were no entrances or exits from the chamber; it was simply a perfectly worked area of four walls which seemed to be in the midst of nowhere.

"Normally, after we've destroyed the totema, the worldthread shatters," Marche explained, approaching the crystal before him curiously. "The released energy opens up a rip, and we can get through it back to Ivalice."

"But the crystal still stands," Judgemaster Cid observed, moving his chocobo closer to the thread. "What does this mean?"

"The totema has combined itself with the crystal," Babus explained. "It's turned the worldthread into what could be considered a 'host.' It's pouring the rest of its energy into protecting that host, so that it won't be destroyed. We'll have to destroy the thread directly in order to get home."

"Right," Marche said. He brought his knightsword around so that he had a grip on it with both hands. Its point was towards the crystal, the hilt parallel to his head. "Then let's end this." Marche drove the weapon forward, plunging it deep into the crystal's centre. For a moment, nothing happened. The next, however, the knightsword was incinerated, and the crystal itself shattered into a million tiny pieces, flying across the room.

As predicted, a rip opened up in the space around them, and the three were pulled into it, and along an infinite tunnel of light back to Ivalice. However, even as the crystal broke, the great, hulking plant form of Exodus dropped in behind them.

The totema needed a new host. Even as it was flying through that tunnel, unseen by the three mortals sharing the ride with it, it felt along its ties to Ivalice, and searched for one, a being of sufficient power and drive...

It found it, hidden in the Tower of Adrammalech.

* * *

Jacqueline looked to Maxwell in surprise as she heard the knocking at the door. He shrugged, and they advanced towards it slowly. Jacqueline followed, and found her rapier in her hand. She didn't know why, but she felt a strange melancholy about her. Like there was a giant... barrier that was standing between herself and another piece of her. But it also felt that it was thinning... she could feel something... it was preparing to break through.

She shook these thoughts from her head as whoever was at the door knocked a second time. Maxwell stepped up to it, and put his hand to the handle.

"What's going on?" Eileen asked, stepping through a door hidden in the side of the tower. It lead down to the medical room which the priests used. "I mean, who'd be knocking at this hour? During a curfew?"

"Who knows?" Maxwell shrugged, and, with that, he unbarred the door, just as Ben came rocketing down the stairs, yelling something that was lost as the door was thrown open from the outside.

A press of bodies entered the room suddenly, giving Maxwell no chance to react as he was grabbed by about five guards at once, and thrown to the ground.

They began advancing upon the other three, all arranged further away from the door. However, they all stopped as one of the bangaa priests rushed down the stairs, and roared, in a surprisingly loud voice, "What isss the meaning of thissss?"

The guards stopped moving, though they didn't get off of Maxwell. Instead, several of them got out of the way, and another bangaa, taller and broader of shoulders than the others, came forward. He wore a long red cape, which billowed out behind him as he walked.

"Are you in charge of thisssss esssstablishment?" he demanded, looking down at the priest.

"I am," the priest replied, not backing down in the face of the gigantic officer. "Why have you come into my placccce of worship with a full platoon of armed guardsss without ssso much assss an exsssplanation?"

"You are harbouring five individualsss named Eileen Mindclear, Maxwell the Dragoon, Jacqueline the Sssscarlet Rapier, Ben the Blue Ninja, and Isaac the Mogknight?" he asked, completely disregarding the priest's statement.

"You make it ssssound as though they were criminalssss."

The bangaa officer reached out, and slapped the priest heavily across the face. The priest was sent reeling, crashing heavily to the ground from the force. The officer said, "Anssswer my quessstion."

The priest glared up at the officer, and, for a moment, the four friends were almost certain that the priest would jump at the bangaa and rip him apart. However, he held back, and simply said, "They are ssstaying here, in jussst repayment of sssservicccess given."

"Are these four," the officer gestured at Eileen, Maxwell, Jacqueline, and Ben, "Four of the aforementioned individualsss?"

"They are."

"Alright." He turned his attention away from the bangaa, and seemed to completely forget he existed, as he began speaking in a voice loud enough for all of them to hear. "The four of you are under arrest for association with a known criminal and renegade."

"Excuse me?" Jacqueline demanded, the first to react.

"Have you or have you not on multiple occasionsss asssociated with Marche Radiuju of Clan Nutsssy?"

"You'll find that the times we have associated with Nutsy, it has been to—"

"So you admit that you've associated with them?" the bangaa asked, cutting Eileen of midsentence.

"Well, yes, but—"

"That is enough," the bangaa said. "All I need to know now is where your accomplice is. The moogle."

"You can take us," Jacqueline said, taking a step forward and straightening her back. Her rapier was still in her hand, held lazily in her right hand, but still ready. She could feel it again; that barrier, straining to hold something back. However, it seemed to be failing, and the closer that that piece of herself came, the stronger she felt. This bangaa wouldn't rebuff her. "We won't resist you. But you will _not_ take Isaac."

"He isss a renegade, and is thusss under arressst as well."

"The moogle isn't to move," the priest piped up again. "He is in the midst of extensive long-term healing. If you move him, he could lose his arm, if not his li—"

"That is not of my concccern," the bangaa said. "I'm here to arressst him, not to hear his diagno—"

At that moment, something deep within Jacqueline, and something buried in the fabrics of the universe snapped. Nobody but Jacqueline herself felt it, but it was there, and oh how it filled her. With passion, with strength, with terror, with energy, but, mostly, with rage. It was this cocktail of emotions which forced her to whip her rapier forward, and run it through the bangaa's body.

Nobody's eyes were fast enough to catch it. One moment, Jacqueline was standing, watching carefully with her rapier out. The next, she had shot at least twenty feet forward, and her weapon was embedded in the officer's chest.

He stared down at her, sputtering in horror.

"You don't touch my friends," she growled at him, and the voice which spoke was not Jacqueline's.

With that, she pulled her weapon back out, and swiped it across, cleaving the bangaa perfectly in half. There were two sickening thuds as the body fell to the ground, and then Jacqueline was left standing there, radiating energy. Everybody took a step back as she swept her gaze over each of them in turn. Finally, those eyes came to bear upon the guards, and her voice came out. "Release the dragoon, or I will destroy you, here and now."

It took the ten bangaa who were already in the tower about five seconds to react, and then they began standing up and stepping back.

Five seconds was too long for Jacqueline.

The viera, or whatever she was now, rushed forward, disappearing from view. Then, two of the guards went flying backwards, gaping gashes still opening as they fell. The eight remainders began rushing over each other to escape, their bangaa captive forgotten.

Jacqueline stepped out of the doors after them, and found herself facing forty three battle-ready guards, formed up in perfect ranks, all with their weapons pointed at her.

"Don't toy with me," she hissed. Then, she raised her hands into the air, and, from the ground, there rose massive roots and trees, reaching up. They grappled and squeezed the guards, and in moments, the newly created forest had ripped them to pieces.

Jacqueline watched, a grin plastered across her features, as the bangaas were ground into a bloody mess before her eyes. Whenever one of them seemed like they were about to escape, she would snap a finger, and a root would shoot out to drag them back in, kicking and screaming.

"Jacqueline?"

She spun around, a mask of rage on her face, to see who had dared speak to her. She found her eyes resting upon Ben, who was looking at her with a mixture of concern and horror.

"Jacqueline," he repeated. "Stop."

She stared at him, not understanding. Then, a light came to her eyes, and a horrified look covered her face.

"Ben," she panted, falling to her knees suddenly. "Get away."

"What?"

"I can't control it Ben."

"What are you talking about? Please, you're scaring me!"

"The power," she screamed. "It's too much for me. You have to get everybody away."

Ben stepped towards her, shaking his head. "I can help you. Let me—"

"Get away!" she roared, and once again, it wasn't her voice that was speaking. Her arm flailed outward, and caught Ben in the chest.

The moment it touched him, Ben was thrown bodily backwards, through the open doorway of the tower, and clean across the level. He didn't stop until he slammed hard against the wall, and then fell and hit the ground.

Ben staggered up to his feet, rubbing his left arm where he'd hit the wall. He stared across the room at Jacqueline, completely unbelieving of what had just happened. Jacqueline didn't have that kind of brute strength. Hell, Maxwell didn't have that strength. What was happening...?

He threw himself to the right suddenly, going into a roll, as a giant piece of rock, unearthed by the roots, came flying towards him. He came up dizzily to his feet, and stared at the hole in the wall where he'd been standing a moment before. Jacqueline had just thrown that piece of rock. She had had the strength to pick it up and _throw it through a wall!_

"We have to get out of here," he whispered. He looked up, and saw that Maxwell and Eileen were watching him, waiting for his move.

He didn't hesitate.

"Go!" he roared, pointing at the hole in the wall. "We need to get out of here, now!"

The two of them ran towards him, helping the priest up and getting him over there with them. Soon, all of the priests of the tower began rushing down the staircase, having heard the crashing of the stone destroying the wall. Eileen, Maxwell, and Ben directed them to the wall, helping all of them out. Ben found himself surreptitiously glancing towards the door, checking on Jacqueline.

He could barely see her anymore. There were layers upon layers of roots and plant life growing up, forming a strange sort of cocoon to protect her.

"What about Isaac?" Eileen asked, watching the last priest pass by them.

"I'll go for him," Ben said, gesturing to their escape. "You guys go. I'll be out fast."

With that, Ben started tearing across the stone floor, heading towards that side door leading to the basement. He was almost there when, all of a sudden, the ground began moving beneath him. He dove backwards, on instinct, as roots reached up from the ground to grab at him. Ben looked up, searching for any root he could take to get to the door.

However, the roots covered the walls. There was no way he could get down to the basement without finding a way to blast through the plant.

"Fuck," he swore.

The ground beneath him started moving again, and Ben jumped back. He watched the earth tearing again, and more roots reaching for him. Ben was forced to retreat further and further, eventually ducking through the whole in the wall, all the while watching as his path to Isaac became more and more impossible.

* * *

A/N: Firstly: This chapter siginifies my first big deviation from the plot of the game. Why? Read and find out.

Second: I apologize in advance. The next chapter will be a LONG time coming. I'm sorry, but this chapter's gonna be huge. As in, probably longer than any one single chapter or piece I have ever done or will do again. Also, I want to write the next chapter well, because it's the one scene that I have been planning for since quite literally the moment I started writing this story. Thus, I'll spend more time editing and polishing it up. Finally, life is kicking my arse in a serious way right now, so I'll have little time to write as it is.

Alright, well, until next time.


	68. The Five Ancient Weapons

A/N: Icey here. Okay, please listen to what I'm about to say. This chapter and the next two are a total of 60 pages long using 12 point Times New Roman font single spaced. They're fing long, in other words. I had planned to upload it as one chapter, but decided against it after much consideration and deliberation with a friend. That said: Don't read these in one sitting or anything crazy like that. If you do, you'll hate this story by the end, simply because of how much there is. That is all. Thank you.

---

When Maxwell stepped out onto the street through the hole in the wall, people were already beginning to scream and run from their buildings. His feet touched down onto the dusty street, and he turned around, grabbing Eileen's hand and helping her through the wall. Once she was safely on this side, he cast his glance around, trying to see what was happening.

It was chaos. Apparently, the crunching that had been started when Jacqueline first began raising roots from the earth had been heard quite widely throughout the city. People had started leaving their houses, and then they'd begun seeing the giant, tree-like being which was quickly growing up and appearing over the rooftops. That was when the screaming started, and word soon began spreading from person to person at an incredible rate.

Though, as Maxwell reflected upon it, they were right to be terrified. The thing that seemed to be consuming Jacqueline appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be the totema Exodus. And this totema, or whatever she was now, was going on a rampage. The roots and branches of the giant tree were entwining themselves around the Tower of Addramalech, protecting it, but it didn't appear to care about the rest of the city. It was flailing its branches around, shooting out vines and even occasional blasts of magic to level anything nearby. More than once, Maxwell was almost sure that he saw a body flying up with one of the sweeps of vines and roots.

"Max!" Eileen yelled.

He turned, and had just enough time to throw himself to the earth before a piece of debris flew by overhead. He came back to his feet, and nodded to Eileen. Now was no time to be distracted.

"Where is Ben?" he asked, trying to take stock of their immediate situation.

"He said that he would try to get to Isaac," Eileen told him. Much to Maxwell's relief, he saw that her eyes, instead of being wide and petrified as he'd feared they would be, were narrowed, taking in everything and assessing it.

"He's still in there?" Max demanded, looking over her shoulder at the tower.

However, both of their fears were abated when, a moment later, a form, dressed in blue, dove out of the hole in the wall, landing heavily on the dusty path. He was followed an instant later by a large group of roots, reaching out through the hole in the wall and grabbing for him.

Ben slapped his hands onto the ground, turning his dive into a handstand. He turned his body as momentum pulled his legs back down, and landed perfectly facing the attacking plant. His right hand, now freed of its burden, grabbed the hilt of one of his sabres, and then drew it out. He swiped out at the plants, attempting to keep them back.

His weapon rang off of the tree root, leaving nothing but a small scratch in the bark. Ben's eyes widened in shock as his wrist went numb, the powerful reverberations from his strike running up the limb. It was everything he could do not to drop the weapon.

The roots continued extending, and Ben was forced to stumble backwards, his weapons useless.

Off to his side, Eileen pointed her hands at the base of one clump of the roots, and called out, "Aufflackern!"

Her magic flowed out, transforming into flames as it sunk into the ground. However, as it burst forth, instead of incinerating the plant, it disappeared into the roots. Even as the magic poured into the spell and was sucked into the plant, the Exodus roots grew exponentially, seeming in conjunction with the magical energy.

Eileen's heart stopped.

"Ultima," she swore, backing up quickly.

Ben quickly found himself backed into the wall of a building neighbouring the Tower of Adrammalech, as the roots extended closer and closer to him. They weren't stopping, or even slowing down at all. If anything, they were speeding up. The roots' pointed tips reached for him, as sharp as any daggers.

Out of the corner of his eye, there was a flash of red, and a voice screamed. A horrible sound, screeching and grating, reached his ears, and then, the clump of roots headed for him stopped growing, and fell to the ground. They had been shorn off cleanly from their source.

Ben turned, staring, and just managed to catch glimpse of the white furred moogle as she grabbed him and shoved him forward, following him with a nu mou in tow.

"Quin!" Eileen cried, relieved at seeing the sage.

"No time for a reunion right now, kupo!" Lini yelled, turning around and brandishing the Avuir Red. "Where are Isaac and Jacqueline?"

"Isaac was badly injured during our last battle," Maxwell explained for them. They had started backing off from the tower, moving as quickly as they could to keep distance between themselves and Exodus. Maxwell stopped talking for a moment as they were swept up in a crowd of bangaas, all running from the hulking plant behind them. Their small group broke through the other side of the crowd, and headed down a sidestreet, away from the masses. Then, Maxwell continued. "He is still unconscious, and is stuck within the basement of the tower. And Jacqueline..." The dragoon paused, and glanced over at Ben carefully. "She is at the centre of Exodus."

"The centre of Exodus, kupo?"

"Some palace guards came and tried to arrest us," Ben said, taking up the story. They were now far enough away from the tower to slow down slightly, though they did still have to climb over occasional pieces of debris which had been flung from the wreckage. "She kind of lost it, and killed the captain. She managed to rip him in half, with just a rapier! Then, she started summoning these plants to attack everybody, including us."

Lini nodded, taking it all in, though nobody missed the furrow between her eyebrows. She let her breath out slowly.

They had stopped in an abandoned city square, allowing them to spread out a bit. They took in their surroundings, and looked back at the tower. They were probably two kilometres away now; not quite far enough to be considered safe, but fine all the same. They could see the giant creature, now taller than the Tower of Adrammalech. Its branches were spreading quickly, making a topiary on its own which must have been two hundred metres in diameter. The most frightening thing about it, however, was that it was still growing. Indeed, even as they watched, they could see the plants spreading out and the summit of the great tree reaching higher.

"So what are we going to do?" Eileen was the one to ask the question on everybody's minds.

"I could blow a hole in that shell with my magic," Quin said, cracking his fingers.

"No." Eileen shook her head. "When I tried using my Flare spell, it just absorbed it. I think that it actually made it stronger."

"It absorbs magic?" Quin demanded.

"Apparently."

"Wonderful."

"Ben," Maxwell asked suddenly, "do you think you could find a way through the roots to Jacqueline? Maybe if we could dislodge her from it—"

"Not happening. It took all of my skill just to get out of the Tower of Adrammalech, and I'm pretty sure that she was holding back so she wouldn't kill me."

"Sheer strength isn't an option," Lini said, glancing down at the Avuir Red in her paw. "It took everything I had just to cleave through those roots back there."

"What does that leave us with, then?" Ben asked. "We can't just abandon the city."

All of them were quiet for a good while after this. All they could hear were the occasional screams, and the constant crashes as the tree expanded and its roots tore up the earth.

"If we could station somebody close enough..." Quin finally said, though he sounded hesitant. "And we could hold off the vines long enough... a totema's power against a totema... but then we'd need to find the others..."

"What are you thinking about, kupo?"

"The Final Ultimatum."

Maxwell and Ben looked at the nu mou, confused, but both Eileen and Lini flinched and took steps back at this declaration.

"Are you crazy, kupo? I mean, the sheer damage it would inflict to the city—!"

"Would it be any worse than what Exodus is doing right now?"

"A successful Final Ultimatum hasn't been pulled off in over five centuries, Quin! Besides, who even has the energy or the experience to control all of that power?"

"Me," Quin said, his eyes hardening as he looked at Eileen.

"What?" A strange look came to Eileen's face. It was a mixture of disbelief, surprise, and outright fear. Neither Ben nor Maxwell had ever seen such an expression from the normally cool-headed Alchemist.

"Think about it. I'm the youngest archmage in three hundred years. I'm the youngest person to ever master Ultima. My magical reservoirs are greater than those of anybody alive today."

"Enough to pull off that many castings in a row?"

"We'll have to find out."

"Besides, you know the cost—"

"It's our only chance, Eileen," Quin whispered. His face was fierce, and there was an odd, golden light leaking out from his eyes. "And I'm willing to try it. How about you, Lini?"

The mogknight's mouth was moving, but no words left it. She shook her head once, then swallowed.

"If you're sure, then I'll trust you, kupo."

"Sorry," Ben said, putting a hand into the air, "but for those of us who aren't as well-versed in Ivalician history, what the hell are you talking about?"

"The Final Ultimatum," Quin said, as though reciting something from an ancient history book, "is an attack of unparalleled power amongst the mortal creatures of Ivalice. Essentially, it requires the five Ultima wielders of that age to come together, bringing with them the five ancient weapons of the races, and combine their energies into one individual. That person then unleashes the attack, which has the equivalent power of about one hundred Ultimas discharging at once. The force should be able to punch a big enough hole in the protections around Jacqueline that somebody could get in there to her."

Maxwell and Ben stared at the sage, now fully understanding their companions' shock. The very idea of it...

"But we've only got two Ultima wielders here," Eileen argued, interrupting their thoughts. "We'd need to go out and find Cheney, Pallanza, and Jocelyn, then bring them back to Sprohm. We don't have the time for that."

"I could substitute for Pallanza, if need be," Maxwell volunteered.

Quin and Lini stared at him, confused.

"I managed to use Ultima in the Tower of Adrammalech," he explained. "When Isaac was in trouble, I used it to destroy one of the doors in our way."

Lini and Quin exchanged a quick glance, then Lini ordered, "Show me your blade."

Maxwell's hand went down to the hilt of his weapon, and slowly, majestically, he drew it out, holding it parallel to the ground before him so that Lini could see it.

The mogknight's mouth actually dropped open, as she dropped the Avuir Red and drew the Materia blade from behind her back. She held the weapon out, right next to Max's blade, shaking her head.

The two were identical. The fine working, the intricate designs, even the fingerprints on the hilts seemed to mirror each other perfectly.

"Where did you find that blade, kupo?"

"When I was in Jagd Dorsa, I was doing reconnaissance on their weapons supplies, when I found the blade," he explained. Then, his face clouded over, as though he were confused. "It was odd. There were sharper blades there, but my hand... it chose the weapon on its own."

"How many times have you used Ultima?"

"Just the one time."

Lini sighed. "You won't be able to help us, then. The bangaa member of the party would have to be able to use Ultima four times without resting, kupo. You aren't strong enough yet."

"That blade is invaluable, however," Quin said, nodding to the weapon. "If we didn't have that, we would be in quite a fix."

"Meaning we still can't pull off the Final Ultimatum," Eileen said, pointing out the obvious once again. "We only have two people who can use Ultima, and—"

"Isn't Cheney's hide out in Sprohm, though?" Ben asked, looking to Eileen. "That's what you told me when we were heading to Cadoan after he attacked us. He lives in this city."

"And Clan Nutsy is here, so Pallanza must be with them," Maxwell added.

"What about Jocelyn, kupo?" Lini asked.

"Didn't you hear?" Quin asked. "She was arrested and brought in by Clan Ritz. Quite a heavy bounty on her head, apparently."

"So she's in the prison," Ben said. "I doubt anybody's still guarding it in this. It'd be a matter of just walking in and finding her cell."

"Three targets," Quin observed, "and three of you."

"Maxwell should take Pallanza, so that he can get the blade to him," Lini reasoned. "Cheney's hideout will be a dangerous place to go into, and also a good distance away. A lone mage wouldn't stand a chance kupo, so Ben can find him. That leaves Eileen the task of getting past Exodus and into the prison to find Jocelyn."

"It's as good of a plan as we've got," Ben nodded. He began pulling off his dark blue cloak, and glanced over to Eileen. "So, if you'll just tell me exactly where Cheney's hideout is, we can get going."

"But..." Eileen looked around, from one face to the other. Her eyes were wide, and it was clear she was looking for an ally. However, she found none. Instead, she simply shook her head helplessly, saying, "Isn't there any other way we can do this?"

"Eileen." Quin's voice was sharp, revealing a certain edge which his normally genial demeanour hid. That gold light was beginning to flow out from him again, giving him an almost godly aura as he glared at the Alchemist. The other three felt themselves taking unintentional steps backwards, as the sage continued. "People are dying. The longer we wait, the more lives will end. If you won't help us, then _their_ blood is on your hands. Do you want that?"

"N-no..."

"Good. Now, where's Cheney's hideout?"

Eileen looked as though she were about to protest again, but a look from Quin silenced her. She sighed, and then turned to Ben, giving him the directions. The blue mage nodded slowly as she spoke, committing the route to memory. When she was done, he gave quick directions to Maxwell on where Nutsy had been hiding.

"So we're ready?" he asked finally. As he'd been speaking, he'd removed all of his extra clothing and equipment, leaving him in nothing but a tight blue tunic, some black breeches with the Blue mage pin stuck through them, and the two belts holding his sabres. He had even kicked off his boots, leaving him in bare feet. There was already blue light sparking in his eyes, revealing his anxiety.

"I believe so," Maxwell nodded. He, too, had removed his cloak, and had carefully replaced the Materia Blade into its sheath. He'd shouldered the weapon behind his back, and tied it on tightly. His spear was stuck, point down in the ground, waiting for him.

Eileen said nothing, simply breathing very deeply and rhythmically. Her robes were already stained with dirt from their run across the city, and her fur streaked with sweat. However, she looked as ready to go as anything. Almost as an afterthought, however, Eileen reached down to her belt, where her mace was buckled, and pulled it off. Then, she held it out to Quin.

"You'll be needing this back, then, won't you?"

Quin nodded gravely, accepting the ancient heirloom of the nu mou race, the Zeus Mace, from her. "Thank you. And good luck to you all."

They all nodded, and with that, they left, each one taking a different path out into the wreckage of Sprohm.

---

Ben took off at a run, knowing that he would have to cover the most distance out of all of them. His feet slapped against the hard, dusty road, carrying him nimbly around broken pieces of buildings and other debris.

Try as he might, however, he found his thoughts kept getting distracted. Their present situation demanded it. Both his girlfriend and his best friend's lives were on the line. There was no telling what effect that plant thing was having on Jacqueline, warping her magic and her mind into some sort of host for it. For all they knew, its roots may have already ground her down for nutrients to feed its insatiable hunger.

Ben gave himself a mental slap in the face, forcing himself to not think about that. Jacqueline would survive. That much he knew. He would fight until the last breath in his body had been ripped out in order to guarantee it.

But, in that case, what about Isaac? He was trapped in the basement of the building which the tree appeared to be using as its foundation. When Ben had been chased out of the building, those roots had been ripping up out of the ground, and he couldn't bring himself to see how anybody could survive having one of those things hitting them.

With luck, though, the roots had all missed Isaac, and left him intact. Another major injury was the last thing he needed at the current moment.

But now, it was time to focus on the matter at hand. Ben began running things through in his head, trying to prepare for what was ahead.

Of course, the hunter would be none too pleased to see Ben again. Without a doubt, there would be a fight, and Ben would be greatly outnumbered.

The important thing would be to make sure he had a lot of cover; fighting against that many trained sharpshooters, a single moment out in the open would mean death.

"Great," he said to the empty street. "What else is new?"

---

"Aufflackern!"

Eileen shielded her face as the wall erupted into flames, throwing jagged shards of rock all over the place. She lowered her hands again, and shook her head to clear the smoke from the blast away from it.

"You'd think that they would've reinforced the walls after the last time," she said to no one in particular.

With that, she stepped forward, ducking in through the hole made in the wall of the prison. She waited a few moments, but nobody came running, and no alarms sounded. Though, to be fair, the alarm might have even been drowned out by the sounds of destruction coming from only a few hundred metres away.

She began walking, deciding to take her time. Clearly, nobody had felt any inclination to stay behind after Exodus had begun attacking, and Eileen didn't blame them. The sheer amounts of energy she felt rolling off from the tree were almost dizzying. But then again, what more could be expected from a totema?

She wandered through the deserted halls of the prison, not quite knowing where she was going. She hadn't been very concerned with the blueprints of the prison when they'd last broken in; that had been Jacqueline and Ben's job. So it appeared she would be forced to search until she found the maximum security area.

Eventually, she found what looked like a large and important door. She looked at the identification plate on the outside.

"Seized materials?" she asked, speaking to herself again. "Could come in useful."

She reached to the door, and found, to her alarm, that it was already unlocked. She clenched her fists, preparing her magic for use, and then pushed the door all the way open.

Inside was a large room, filled with shelves upon shelves of crates and boxes. The shelves went on seemingly forever, and they were, no doubt, filled with some of the most dangerous and illegal materials Ivalice had to offer.

"Jocelyn," she whispered. "I'm looking for the box marked Jocelyn..."

"Why is that?"

Eileen stiffened as she heard the voice. It was soft, feminine; and yet, extremely dangerous.

_She's here_, she realised, horrified. She looked about for the source of the voice, and saw, for the first time, the completely unmarked bodies of two bangaa guards lying on either side of the door.

"Jocelyn?" she asked, worried now. "We need your help."

"I've given up on giving people help."

"Please," Eileen begged. She had to at least try. "You have to come. All of the five wielders of Ultima are assembling, even Chen—"

"Don't say that _name_!" Jocelyn screamed, and Eileen suddenly saw her, rushing across the dark room, katana drawn.

"Dammit!" Eileen roared, and orange light flooded the room.

---

The city flew by beneath Maxwell as he took jump after jump, sending him incredible distances with each push of his powerful legs. Every once in a while, he would see somebody below who had been left behind in the wreckage. Each time, however, he forced himself to look away and continue moving. There were far more pressing issues on the line than a few individual people's lives.

He had reached the inn that Ben had described to him, and, as he'd expected, found it empty. He'd figured that the clan, no matter how powerful they were, wouldn't head straight towards a towering demigod tree. Thus, he'd started jumping away from Exodus, trying to find the elusive clan.

Fortunately, it didn't take him long to find them. The clan was clumped together with a large group of escapees, trying to help them along. It didn't look like the whole force of their numbers was assembled; no, not by a long shot. The group there was a concise raiding party, clearly designed with the intention of getting Marche out of prison.

Maxwell landed lightly on top of a building, and jumped one more time. He flew through the air, pulling one slow backflip to kill his momentum. He landed just ahead of the group in a crouch, his spear held out behind him.

The dragoon stood up and turned to face the clan, not allowing them time to recover from their shock.

"Is Lord Pallanza with you?" he asked.

Montblanc, who stood at their head, nodded, and called out, "Pallanza!"

The bangaa emerged from amongst the crowd, staring curiously at Maxwell. He wore little armour; just enough to take a few hits while keeping him moving. There was a simple blade in the sheath at his side, and even the hilt showed great marks of use.

"Why do you need me?" Pallanza asked, eying him curiously.

"Lini and Quin sent me for you," Maxwell explained, ignoring the questioning looks from the rest of the clan. Their comprehension didn't matter at the moment.

"Why? What isss going on?"

"That creature," Maxwell said, pointing behind himself at the giant tree on the horizon. "It's Jacqueline. We believe that, somehow, Exodus has taken her. It absorbs magical attacks, and we stand no chance with melee. Thus, Quin and Lini have decided that they will use something called the Final Ultimatum."

Pallanza's eyes widened, and he took a frightened step backwards. That, more than anything else, showed Maxwell just how dangerous what they were deciding to do was. Pallanza was probably the greatest bangaa alive, and he had managed to match even the Worldwyrm for strength. And it frightened _him_?

"Where are they?" Pallanza asked.

"They're in a square not far from the pub called the Rusty Bolt. Do you know it?"

"Of coursssse..." Pallanza's eyes were clouded with thought, and his fingers kept tapping off of his thumb, as though counting things out. He remained like this for perhaps a full minute without saying anything, before turning to Montblanc.

"Could you esssscape without my help?"

"Of course, kupo. But we'll be coming back, once we've dropped off these people somewhere safe."

"Don't," Pallanza ordered. He was pulling off his pack, and carefully removing his breastplate. "If you return, there'ssss no guarantee that we won't kill you by missstake."

"But Pallanza, kupo, we—"

"Montblanc." It was Maxwell who spoke this time, and he knelt down so that he was face to face with the mage. "This is no longer your fight. I thank you for all that you've done to help my friends in the past, but this time it is our burden to bear. Get these people away, and find somewhere safe. I would say nothing different if Marche were here."

Montblanc eyed him carefully for some time, before finally saying, "Alright, kupo. Let's move out!"

Maxwell stood up straight again and faced Pallanza. The older bangaa met his gaze, and nodded slowly.

"I believe that I have something you need," Maxwell stated, suddenly remembering. Pallanza looked at him curiously, and Maxwell shrugged the blade down from behind his back. He offered it to the gladiator, holding it by its sheath so that Pallanza could take the hilt.

"The Materia Blade," the bangaa breathed, eyes wide as his hand reached forward, stopping occasionally in trepidation.

Finally, his fingers touched the pommel hesitantly, moving around it to grasp the hilt. He drew the blade forth, and stared at it for a long while, simply staring at how the light of fires burning in various parts of the city reflected off of its edge.

"We should go," Maxwell said.

"Yesss." The gladiator looked sadly over his shoulder at the clan, packing up and beginning to leave behind him. "We should, shouldn't we?"

Maxwell waited as long as he could before reaching forward and taking the gladiator's shoulder. When Pallanza looked at him, Maxwell simply jerked his head towards the direction of the square, and Pallanza nodded.

They started walking, but they hadn't gone more than a few steps before Pallanza stiffened, and said, "What'sss that sssound?"

"What do you mean?" Maxwell asked, his spear already out and twirling between his hands.

They found out a moment later, as the sound of marching feet increased, and a unit of the guard appeared from around the corner before them. Both bangaa took steps back at the sheer size of it; it appeared even greater than the force that had been sent to arrest the five friends. There must have been at least sixty, if not more. Though several of them looked worse for wear from fleeing the totema, they all had weapons ready, several of them having already drawn back bowstrings.

"Adrammalech," Maxwell swore, staring at the force in front of him. He reached down to his heavy sash and drew out a judgepoint, quietly whispering, "I declare an engagement."

However, the card didn't disappear, and no judge appeared. His eyes widened as he stared down, but the card was still there.

"The judges aren't coming," he whispered to Pallanza.

"All citizens have been ordered to evacuate," a human, the apparent commander of that group, said. He didn't appear to be hostile, but that couldn't last long. "Please, come with us, and we'll get you to a safe point."

"We have to go," Maxwell hissed at Pallanza. "Grab onto me, and I'll jump us away from here."

"I won't leave my clan to be arresssted," Pallanza replied. "As ssssoon as they find out that thisss is Clan Nutsssy they'll attack without ressstraint. With no judgesss presssent, there'sss no telling how many will die."

"There's more at stake right now than a single clan!" Maxwell replied.

"You think I should abandon them?"

"I think you should make a decision on behalf of the greater good!"

Pallanza fixed him with a glare that could have cut through solid steel. "When did you become ssso cold?"

Maxwell stared at the gladiator, his mouth moving for several moments without noise coming out. Then, he cleared his throat, and said, "You refuse to leave knowing your clan is in danger?"

"Yesss."

"Fine," Maxwell's face became a mask of darkness as he lowered his head, raising his spear. "Go back, and tell Montblanc to lead them away. Then, you take a roundabout route to Lini and Quin's position."

"And they'll jussst let usss go, you sssuppose?"

"They'll have something more pressing to deal with," Maxwell said, turning to face the guards as he brought his spear out before him.

"They'll kill you."

"Let them try."

With that, Maxwell dug the base of his spear into the ground, and pulled back. The resulting force catapulted him forward, his spear trailing behind him to help angle his flight, towards the surprised guards.

---

Ben stood outside the door of the building which apparently housed Cheney's hunting group. Fortunately, it didn't look like they'd evacuated yet. In fact, as Ben had gotten further and further away from the scene of Exodus' rampage, the streets had become more and more normal. This far out, while some people had admittedly already left, most were still there, packing things up and getting chocobos ready.

Clearly, they didn't understand the gravity of the situation.

Ben was quite unsure on how to proceed from here. His hands were on the hilts of his sabres, wondering whether to go in armed or not. He doubted that he could avoid a fight, but even the slimmest chance would be nice.

Suddenly, Ben heard a sound. He ducked around the building to a back alley quickly, crouching down so that the night's darkness would cover him. He quieted his breathing, and waited. A moment later, he saw an odd sight. Several nu mous were walking by, speaking in hushed voices. He caught sight of the eyes on their hats, and Ben realised that they must be the team of alchemists that the palace had sent for. His eyes widened as he realised that each one of them was Third Eye ranked. There were nine of them in all, and, much to his surprise, Ben recognized Bartholemue Greatspell amongst their ranks. He waited until the sound of their steps had faded away. Then, he walked back out from the alley, and pushed the door open.

He didn't have time to wait or to consider; he had to move.

The door opened to a short staircase that led downwards. The mage went down, careful to keep his steps quiet. When he reached the bottom, he found a very short hallway with a door at the end. Guarding this door was a man with a bow strung over his back.

The bow came down quickly when he saw Ben. "Who are you?"

"I have a meeting with your leader."

"He doesn't have any appointments set up for today..."

"This one is unplanned."

The archer began reaching carefully for an arrow, narrowing his eyes. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave and schedule a meeting. Now, go."

The archer barely saw Ben move, and then, suddenly, the mage had shot forward and tackled him to the ground. They rolled over once, and Ben came out on top. He grabbed the archer by the front of the shirt, and slammed him down into the ground.

"I can't leave," he hissed down at the horrified archer. "I've got to speak with Cheney. And you're going to help me."

He didn't wait for a response. Instead, he took hold of the archer, and heaved him up, turning him around and grabbing his hands so that Ben could push him forward as a shield. Then, he stepped towards the next door, released one of his prisoner's hands, and ordered, "Open it."

With a shaking hand, the archer reached forward, turning the knob. He pushed open the door, and the two stepped through.

They stood on a balcony which went all the way around the room, leading to several doors in the walls. On the opposite side of the room, there was a staircase leading down from the balcony, which led down to a large, open space below. It looked like a common eating and working area, with several long tables stretched out. All along the walls, there were pegs where packs and quivers of arrows were hung, waiting to be picked up at a moment's notice.

Seated down on this lower level were six members of the group, mostly unarmed. Each one, apparently, was blissfully unaware of what was happening outside.

At the head of one of the tables, Cheney was sitting back, his large hunter's hat pulled down over his eyes. His greatbow, still strung, was propped up against the table beside him, a quiver of arrows right next to it.

Ben did his best to move quietly, but as soon as he took one step, the hunter tipped his hat back so that his eyes showed, and asked, "Stuart? Who's that with you?"

Ben felt his hostage stiffen, and sighed. What more could he have expected?

"I-I'm sorry, sir," the archer stuttered. "I tried to stop him, but..."

"Don't worry about it," Cheney said, sitting up slowly and stretching his back out. All around him, the hunting party was beginning to turn towards the two newcomers and reach for weapons.

"Don't move," Ben ordered. He moved his arm quickly, placing it around his target's neck so that he could snap it at a moment's notice. "Unless you want to see your friend dead."

"Don't get hasty," Cheney suggested, standing up. "I think I recognize your voice."

"My name is Ben," the Blue mage yelled down. "You were commissioned to kill me once."

"Ah, the one who got away." Cheney's eyes narrowed slightly. "Sorry about your panther. Though I assume you're here to avenge that little fact?"

Ben felt his teeth grinding together. He paused, and took several deep breaths. This was not the time to bring up past crimes. He had to bring the hunter to them alive. Once they'd rescued Jacqueline and Isaac from that tree thing, _then_ he'd rip the archer's guts out. But not until after.

"I'm not here for that," Ben said, barely keeping his voice steady. "I've come on behalf of Lini the Mogknight and Quin the Archmage of Cadoan."

A look of mild interest replaced the aggressive appearance of Cheney's face. He nodded slowly. "Them two, eh? Good kids. Why do they need me?"

"Don't you know what's going on outside?"

"I've received reports. But it shouldn't concern us. That thing will be destroyed before it can reach all the way over her."

"Not likely," Ben said, trying to play up the dramatics. "The creature outside isn't just some plant. That's _Exodus_. The palace guards don't stand a chance of destroying it."

"How do you know?"

"My girlfriend is at the centre of that thing, and I've seen what it can do up close. The guards won't be able to approach it."

"How does this concern Lini and Quin and, most importantly, me?"

"They want to do the Final Ultimatum."

For a moment, Cheney's tough mask disappeared, to be replaced by complete horror. He took a step back, shaking his head at the thought. However, it didn't last long, and then Cheney regained his composure, saying, "That's not possible. There are only four Ultima wielders alive; the viera still haven't found their representative."

"But they have," Ben countered. "She's preformed Ultima before us."

"Don't lie to me," the hunter growled. "There are things you don't know about. The viera's Ultima line died years ago. I watched it happening."

"She lives."

"Say it again and I _will_ kill you," the hunter said, the look in his eyes very dangerous.

Ben took a deep breath. This was going to be rough. "The line isn't broken."

Instantly, Cheney's greatbow was in his hands, and there was an arrow set to it. He let loose, and the arrow flew forward. Ben was so surprised that he didn't even try to block or move as the arrow came towards them. It grazed his hostage's left side, and sunk into the extra bit of visible skin that Ben showed.

The blue mage cursed, and took a step back with the force of the hit. His hand faltered from its hold on the archer in front of him, and the terrified man broke from his grasp and started running.

Ben stared down, and watched as a volley of arrows flew up at him.

---

Eileen threw herself heavily to the right, barely avoiding being skewered by the katana. She hit the ground hard, and tried to roll as fast as she could. She came up to her back, and saw the assassin coming towards her, katana held ready.

The alchemist pointed her hands, and cried out, "_Wasser_!"

An orb of water shot from her hands and smashed into the assassin's face. The force was great enough to knock her off of her feet, and gave Eileen the opportunity to stand back up.

She glanced down at Jocelyn, and briefly considered having mercy. However, another side of her which was far more powerful and far less patient informed her that she could just drag the viera's unconscious body to Quin and Lini.

She pointed again, and felt the magic building within her. "_Aufflackern_."

Jocelyn rolled forward, and came up to her feet as the ground she was lying upon blew open. She lunged forward, hitting Eileen with a full tackle.

The two of them went down, Jocelyn using her position to slam Eileen into the ground even harder. The alchemist felt her breath flying away, and she gasped to fill her lungs.

Jacqueline drew her hand back, and, in the darkness of the room, a more concentrated and heavier form of darkness gathered briefly around her hand.

Eileen tried to yell out a spell, but Jocelyn shoved her hand down, punching Eileen's throat. The alchemist's eyes went wide, and her voice died as the darkness sank into her.

---

The guards stared on in terror as Maxwell smashed into their front line, his leap taking down five guards at once. The dragoon landed heavily after that, though he still managed to go over his shoulder in a roll up to his feet.

One guard, slightly more aware than the others, came at Maxwell with a sword. The dragoon, without hesitation, turned, and, holding his spear like a quarterstaff, blocked the slash with the weapon's tip. Then, he brought the other end of the spear around, smashing the blunt end straight into the man's face.

The guard fell back with several teeth.

With that, the battle truly began. The guards rallied, and charged in around at Maxwell as one unified force. The dragoon, knowing that he could maybe block three slashes before he was ripped to pieces, took to the air instead, lifting off through the sky.

Maxwell realised his error quickly, however, as the sound of bowstrings twanging filled the air. The dragoon spun in mid-flight, sweeping his spear out in front of him. That managed to deflect several of the arrows coming at him, but two slipped through. One, Maxwell managed to kick his foot out and deflect. The other, however, came through and hit his ear. He felt a sudden, hot pain exploding from that spot, and he had to screw his eyes up and growl. His vision cleared, and he stared as he drifted in the air through his own blood.

Maxwell landed, this time, on the edge of a house on the side of the street. He subconsciously reached up to touch his ear, and his eyes widened.

Bangaas' ears were normally droopy and quite long. They normally hung down about twenty centimetres down from where they were attached to the head. As Maxwell felt, he realised that that arrow had ripped his ear right off about an inch from where it connected with his head.

The dragoon growled, and waited. The moment he heard the twang of bowstrings again, he jumped, flying high of the missiles. Those archers had just made a very stupid mistake.

---

Blue light flared up from Ben, centring around his hand as he whipped it forward. The air around this hand clung to it, forming into a powerful wind. He gave the wind a slight twist, then hurled it forward, straight into the path of the arrows.

The twister he had created sucked all of the missiles up into it, giving Ben a chance to turn and start running towards the stairs leading down into the main area. His feet slapped against the wood, feeling every grain beneath them. His hands, still warm from the blue magic, were shaking. No looking back now.

He heard the next volley of arrows firing, and knew that the archers would have wisely fired a few steps ahead of where he currently was.

Well, it would have been wisely. If it weren't for the fact, that is, that a moment later, he made a right turn, and jumped over the rail and into open space.

Even as Ben was falling, his hands found the hilts of his sabres, and they came out, glinting in the light given off by candles scattered around the room.

_Agile as a cat_, he thought to himself, _and a cat _always_ lands on his feet._

Blue light exploded from Ben for a moment, more than would have been normal for any Blue mage's spell. It seemed to wrap around him, covering him. Wherever it touched, the beginnings of red fur would sprout, and the muscle would become lean and wiry.

Ben landed on his hands and the balls of his feet, spread out with the sabres' hilts underneath his palms. He didn't roll to displace the shock; he didn't crouch to absorb it. He simply landed, then stood back up, the light fading and the fur disappearing as though nothing had happened.

Ben jumped down from the table, kicking one of the astounded archers in the face as he did so. It was best to act while he still had a bit of surprise from his jump; he needed every advantage he could get.

He turned, and found a sword coming down at his head. Ben blocked the attack between his crossed sabres, and glanced down to see the female bangaa that had been supposed to torture them... what had her name been... ah, Carla.

Ben glanced over his shoulder to check on his other opponents. His eyes widening, the Blue mage jumped to the left, as an arrow flew through the space he'd just been occupying to slam into the bangaa's chest. She gasped, then fell back dead.

He glanced around, and his eyes fixed on the archer closest to him, drawing her bowstring back. Ben sucked in a deep breath, blue light gathering in his mouth. Then, he spat, and a powerful acid shot from his mouth. It crossed the distance between them, and splashed into the archer's eyes. She fell back, screaming.

Ben turned his focus to the other archers, and he let his legs give out, falling. The arrow coming for him still managed to thump into his shoulder, making him yelp as pain shot through the limb. The sabre in that hand clattered to the floor, and Ben cursed as he hit the ground, rolling to get out of the way of yet another arrow.

---

Eileen tried to speak, to cast another spell, but the words wouldn't come out. She gasped, realising that it must have something to do with that darkness she'd seen gathering on Jocelyn's hand.

So that meant she couldn't use any spells she was unfamiliar with... only the ones she used often and with great mastery.

Well, that narrowed it down to about three. Great.

Eileen grabbed the wrist of the hand at her throat, and, due to her opponent's surprise more than any strength, managed to push her off.

The alchemist got up to her feet, and pointed her hands. She focused her thoughts on the spell diagram in her mind as much as possible, and then pushed the magic out through her fingers. A ball of water came out, and smashed down into her opponent's form on the floor. Jocelyn doubled over, gasping, as the ball collided with her stomach.

She jumped up to her feet, recovering surprisingly quickly. She faced Eileen angrily, and darkness started gathering around her hand.

Eileen raised her hands frantically, trying to throw a cloud of poison at Jocelyn.

However, the assassin was, naturally, the faster of the two. She lunged, and tapped her hand against Eileen's face.

Every single muscle in the nu mou's body froze up, and Eileen found herself locked in place as the assassin straightened up, stretching her back out.

"You shouldn't have said that name," Jocelyn hissed at her, leaning in close.

If they could have, Eileen's eyes would have widened in fear.

Jocelyn's arm twitched, and she gave Eileen a backhand across the face. The force of the blow sent Eileen's prone body flying backwards, crashing into one of the shelves of boxes. The pain as her side crashed against the heavy metal unit brought enough focus to her mind to break her from her stasis. She opened her mouth to scream in pain as she fell down with the heavy shelves, slamming hard into the floor.

---

Maxwell's arms shuddered as his spear's shaft cracked off of the last archer's head. He turned, seeing the sword wielding guards coming towards him, and took a step, jumping up into the air again.

He landed on a nearby roof, staggering slightly on his landing. He caught himself before he fell, using the spear as a crutch.

"Dammit," he gasped, reaching down to rip out another arrow from his right leg. Well, at least that was the last of the pesky archers. They'd peppered him with arrows for the past few minutes, very seldom hitting.

But still, those times that they had hit were beginning to add up. His clothing was ripped in dozens of places from close calls, and there were puncture marks on several spots of his body from where he'd ripped out the arrows. Blood was dripping liberally from him, leaving a crisscrossing trail of red specks from one side of the street to the other to show his flight.

He looked off in the direction that Clan Nutsy had fled with their civilian partners. A little bit longer. That was all they'd need, and then he could bolt out of there.

Well, if that was all they needed...

A crashing noise shocked the bangaa from his considerations. He looked over, and saw that a giant chunk had been blown off of the lip of the roof he was standing on. Searching for the source of this disruption, he saw the captain of the patrol he was fighting, holding a blade out.

Great. So this one actually knew how to fight, and how to use the air render technique.

A flash of inspiration came to the dragoon, suddenly, and he jumped, going down from the roof to land directly in front of the captain. The human looked startled for a moment, then charged forward, his blade leading.

Maxwell blocked the attack on his spear, and made a quick counterattack in much the same way he'd downed the original soldier who'd come at him. However, the captain threw his head back, sending the attack harmlessly high, and then came back forward, pushing Maxwell bodily back.

The dragoon stumbled, catching himself on his last step and jumping a metre backwards. This human was good. Nowhere near as good as Maxwell would have been at his prime, but the bangaa was tired and injured. Maxwell's decision was a chancy one.

The bangaa lunged forward again, swiping his spear out in a wide attack. The fighter blocked the attacked quickly with his blade, then took one hand off of his blade's hilt, grabbing onto the spear's pole portion. He twirled around that hand, bringing his blade forward and inside of Maxwell's defensive area at his head.

In response, Maxwell actually completely surrendered his grip on his weapon, dipping down into a full duck beneath the attack. He took one hop backwards, underneath his spear's pole, then came back up and grabbed it again. He gave a hard shove, now on the fighter's opposite side, and threw his opponent forward and off-balance.

Maxwell glared down at the human as he fell, scrambling to turn around and face his bangaa opponent. The human stared at him, horrified. Then, his eyes shifted somewhat, the fear dimmed, and he gazed over Maxwell's shoulder.

Maxwell realised what this meant, and twirled around with nowhere near enough time to raise his spear and block any of the attacks coming at him from the city's soldiers.

---

Ben's chest heaved, the fabric covering it soaked through with sweat. He was blinking to clear his eyes of the fuzziness, hoping that maybe then he'd be able to keep his lunch down. His back was against a table he'd overturned, which thudded occasionally as arrows hit it.

"Crap," he gasped, his right hand tightening on the hilt of his remaining sabre. "Crap."

The last few minutes of the fight hadn't been the best. For the most part, they'd been made up of Ben diving from place to place, trying not to get hit by any arrows. He had torn off strips from his shirt to staunch the flow of blood from his shoulder and his side, but both of the strips of fabric were soaked through with blood.

The Blue mage couldn't keep up his current level of combat, and he knew it. Cheney and the remaining two rangers, a viera sniper and a moogle gunner, had him pinned down. Of course, they couldn't hit him from behind the table, but that didn't matter. Soon, they would stop shooting, then come forward, go around the table, and catch him in the crossfire.

Ben just had to wait for that time. Then, he'd be able to take down at least one, and possibly use their body as a shield. It was the only way he could think of.

Finally, the vibrations coming from the table stopped, and Ben heard the soft sound of footsteps, slowly approaching him. They were coming towards him. This was the time. Now, he had to act. If not, he, Isaac, Jacqueline, and who knew how many others would die.

"Alright," he whispered. "Let's go."

He hunched over and crawled, as silently as he could, towards the left end of the table, then waited, his sabre pulled back.

He breathed once.

Twice.

He breathed a third time.

A foot came around the edge of the table.

Ben threw himself around the edge, his sabre already attacking. It caught the moogle in the chest, cutting a deep gouge. He fell back, crying out in pain, as Ben kept running.

He ran parallel to the table, wanting to get around to the other side and attack Cheney and the viera while they were still somewhat unawares. It was, once again, his only chance.

The viera's head poked out around the edge of the table, followed quickly by the entire viera, drawing her bowstring back to attack. Ben was several steps away, nowhere near a small enough distance to allow for time to rush forward and cut her.

Instead, Ben forced his Blue magic painfully down into his left hand, forming into a hammer. Grinding his teeth in pain, he flicked the hand, sending his hammer spinning forward.

Of course, the hammer, which was designed to deal direct damage to a target's magic reserves, was no threat at all to the sniper. She, however, did not know this. All she knew was that a hammer was flying towards her. She, not wanting or knowing to test the validity of the hammer, dodged back around the other side of the table.

Ben, struck by inspiration again, threw himself to the left, slamming into the table. As it went over, he placed his full weight upon it, sending the thing careening down on whoever was hiding on the other side.

A high pitched squeal came from beneath table, followed a single, sickening crunching noise.

Ben stumbled back from the table, his feet barely keeping him up. His poor balance brought him stumbling forward again, and he placed his good hand on the table to lean on it.

Then, a terrible thought came to him:

_One_ crunch? Weren't there supposed to be two?

Ben heard the arrow being placed to the string, and tried throwing himself out of the way. His body, however, was moving sluggishly with exhaustion, so he only just managed to move himself out of the way of the arrow.

The arrow, oddly enough, made no noise as it passed. Normally, there would have been some displacement of air or something along those lines, but not this time. It simply zoomed by, silently...

Until, that was, a moment later, when the sound, which the arrow had managed to rip all the way through, caught up to its source. The resulting shockwave exploded outwards, throwing Ben bodily sideways, flailing with no more control over his limbs.

His front hit the ground, and he felt at least one rib cracking. Pain radiated from that one point on his chest, bringing tears to his eyes. However, he didn't call out, or move this time. He didn't have it in him. His body was beaten, and his magic exhausted. He didn't even know how to fight anymore.

He heard the steps approaching him. Then, a hand grabbed him roughly, and turned him around onto his back. Cheney's hands hooked onto the fabric of the front of his shirt, pulling his face towards him. The eyes of the hunter glared down at him, his mouth a grim line.

"There are only four people left in this world who know Ultima," Cheney growled.

"If you count my friend who just learned it," Ben panted, refusing to back down, "six."

Cheney spat in his face, the liquid stinging when it got in Ben's eyes. Cheney brought his face closer, so that their noses were touching, and their foreheads were pressed against each other.

"Don't lie."

"I'm not," Ben argued, his voice still feeble. "Jocelyn can use Ultima."

Cheney opened his mouth to argue, then stopped, his eyes widening. He released the Blue mage's shirt, and instead seized his shoulders. "What did you say?"

"What...?"

"What did you just say!"

"I said that I wasn't a liar."

"After that!"

"Jocelyn can use Ultima," he said, looking curiously at the hunter.

"Jocelyn?"

"Yes, Jocelyn. She's an assassin."

Cheney dropped Ben, and stood up slowly, shaking his head slowly. He turned away from the Blue mage, and started pacing away from him. Then, his footsteps became harder and more purposeful, moving away. Ben heard a door opening, and then closing.

After a short time, Cheney returned, and stood over Ben. There was a second bow slung over his shoulder, much different than his plain yew one. It appeared to be made of some sort of... white substance. It definitely wasn't anything of the likes Ben had seen before. Also, there were incredibly intricate designs and inscriptions made all the way throughout it.

"Come on," Cheney growled, reaching into a satchel at his side. He pulled out a glass bottle which was full of some sort of silvery liquid. He pulled the stopper from the bottle, and placed it to Ben's lips.

Ben, recognizing the thing as a potion, drank greedily, trying to get as much of it down as possible. Soon, the pain coming at him from several different spots on his body dimmed, and he felt energy flowing through his veins.

"Get up," the hunter ordered. "We're leaving. You're taking me to where Jocelyn is, and if you're lying to me..." he laughed, shaking his head, "you'll wish that I'd left you here to die slowly. Now let's go."

He stood up, and, without waiting for Ben, started walking towards the staircase.

Ben jumped up, and tested his balance. When he found he could move confidently, he walked over to his fallen sabre and picked it up. He replaced it in his sheath, and glanced around the room.

The tables were all over the place. Arrows were sticking out of everything, several of them stained with blood. There was a dead bangaa on the floor, and several people lying on the ground groaning.

"So this is all it takes to get you to come along with me?" Ben asked, raising his voice so that Cheney could hear it.

"Apparently so," the hunter called back. "Now are you coming?"

"You're not going to heal any of these guys?"

"No. They mean nothing to me. Now, come."

Ben shrugged, and then started up the stairs after Cheney.

---

Eileen's breath was haggard as she lay over the iron shelf. She could hear the viera approaching behind her, the katana held ready to strike. Each step was her death getting a bit closer, her long line of luck finally over.

The alchemist's eyes strained in the dark, staring at all of the things which had spilled out of the boxes she'd knocked over. There were many weapons, some of them with dried blood still caked on their edges. She briefly considered grabbing one, but it would be pointless; she'd never been taught how to fight. Magic was her only weapon.

She was about to give in, when her eyes caught something small and grey amongst the piles.

Could it be...?

Eileen's hand shot out, and it closed around the tiny pill. She pulled it up to her eye, and a small grin crossed her face, as she popped it into her mouth.

Instantly, her throat loosened, and Eileen's thoughts flew to the spells she knew. Which one... which one could save her?

Her mind settled on one, her grin widened, and Eileen spun herself painfully around so that her back was propped against the shelf. Jocelyn was but a step away, her katana drawn back for a stab.

Eileen's hands flew forward, pointing at the assassin, and her mind focused on a single complicated spell diagram.

"_Kröte__Werden_!"

Orange light exploded from Eileen, and Jocelyn's eyes widened, partly in surprise, partly in fear. Greenish grey smoke exploded out from the assassin, and there was a metallic noise as the katana clattered to the ground.

Eileen lunged forward, knowing that she couldn't let Jocelyn escape. Her hand touched something wet and slimy, and she closed her grip firmly around it.

The smoke cleared, and, barely visible in the dim light, there was a large toad sitting in Eileen's hand.

"It's at times like these," she informed it with a vindictive grin, "that I wish I knew how to cackle."

The toad, in response, let out a mournful croak.

Eileen opened one of the deeper pockets in her robes, and dropped the toad in. She buttoned the pocket up, and then stood. A pain shot up her side, and she bent over again, wheezing. Her hand went to the spot, and she felt along the bones. She winced in pain as her finger found a crack.

The alchemist hobbled back to the collapsed shelf, and she bent over, searching through the scattered paraphernalia where she'd found the cureall. She sifted through, careful to avoid the sharp edges of weapons and occasional broken glass.

Finally, she found what she was looking for; an unbroken bottle of a silvery liquid. She opened it, and eyed it suspiciously.

Instead of drinking it, she held out a finger and poured out a small drop onto it. She lifted up her robe and felt underneath the shirt she wore beneath until she found the break. She rubbed the liquid gingerly on, wincing occasionally when she pressed too hard.

Cool numbness sank into the skin, killing some of the pain. She waited several moments, just in case there were any negative after-effects.

None came, and, so, she drank the potion back, not stopping for breath. She took the bottle away from her lips when she was done, wiping her lips on her sleeve. She then searched until she found a couple ethers, drinking those to replenish her magic.

Then, she turned around, and bent down to pick up the katana which Jocelyn had dropped while being turned into a toad. Its hilt was warm to the touch, but that was the least of Eileen's attention as she stared at it. The weapon was, to say the least, a work of art. It matched perfectly with the Zeus Mace, though in every way that the Zeus Mace was heavy and filled with intellectual and magical power, this katan was wrought with grace and elegance.

Eileen shook her gaze from the Zanmato, and tucked it under her arm.

"Alright," she patted the pocket where the toad was stored, stretching her back out. "We should head back to the others."

---

As the swords came down at his head, Maxwell took a deep breath. Then, he leaned forward, emptying all of the air in one roar. The force of the call made the air ripple outwards from him, knocking over the soldiers coming at him. They fell in a heap before him, dazed by both the physical attack and the incredible noise.

The sound traveled from there, ricocheting off of the buildings around them and echoing back. The confused soldiers looked around, searching for the source of the noises. The echoing voices got louder as the soldiers began murmuring, and soon it sounded as though there were an entire army of bangaas marching upon them from somewhere.

Maxwell took advantage of this distraction, using it to spin around, and bring his spear down heavily on the captain's head. The sound of the seated captain's head cracking off of the hard metal bar sent another set of echoes into the street, only adding to the confusion.

The dragoon looked at the soldiers, and realised that this would be the best time for him to escape. He used his spear to push himself off into a jump, flying up to the roof of yet another small building on the side of the street. From there, he briefly considered his options.

He couldn't head back to Quin and Lini. Not now, with this group of guards still tailing him. Though they were currently confused, it wouldn't take them long to take up chase after the one who'd downed their captain. He also couldn't go the way that Montblanc and Clan Nutsy had left; that would destroy the point of the past few minutes of fighting.

An idea struck Maxwell suddenly. There was only one place where he could be completely guaranteed that the group wouldn't follow him: towards Exodus. Somebody would either need to be insane or desperate to approach that thing. At current, Maxwell was more than a bit of both.

Not to mention, maybe he could find a way to get Isaac out of the middle of that thing.

With that, Maxwell jumped shakily down to the next street over, and started running, as best as he could, towards the eye of the storm.


	69. The Final Ultimatum

Eileen and Ben arrived at nearly the same time. She walked into the square, the katana tucked under her arm and her robes all ripped and dirty, just as Ben and Cheney ran into it from another end. All three stopped moving, and Eileen and Ben nodded to each other. 

"I see you've found Cheney."

"And you found the viera's weapon," Ben observed. "But where's Jocelyn?"

"She's here," Eileen assured the human. She turned to size up Cheney, and then looked back at Ben. "Looks like you had an easy ride."

"What?"

"Neither of you have a scratch on you. I mean, I at least worked for this. You..."

"This is one X-Potion later," Ben stated dryly.

"...ah."

"My men and I may have reacted a bit strongly," Cheney admitted, his eyes searching around the square. "Now, where is Jocelyn? I want to see her."

"I'm keeping her under wraps until everybody else shows up," Eileen explained. "She's not the safest person to keep around."

"I would much prefer seeing her now," the hunter said meaningfully.

"I would much prefer to not have her throw me around like a ragdoll again after I only just managed to defeat her. Sorry, but this is my call." Eileen's voice and her eyes were quite hard, each one with more than a bit of edge to them.

Fortunately, at that moment, Lini and Quin walked up. They both looked just as they had when the friends had left; holding their Ultima weapons in eager hands, with their eyes racing from one person to the next. They had spent the time waiting for the three friends simply considering what they were attempting.

"Cheney, kupo," Lini said, her greeting somewhat frosty.

"Lini! You survived the fall, I see."

"I did."

"You've got more of your father in you than I thought."

Lini bit her lip, clearly wishing to say something that she would regret later. Fortunately, before either of them could act, Quin butted in.

"Eileen, did you manage to get Jocelyn?"

"Yes," Eileen nodded, "but I'd rather wait until Pallanza and Maxwell got back before I let her go. She doesn't seem very..." She searched for a word. "...motivated to do this."

The other four stared at her for a few seconds, and then Quin asked, "Eileen, where's Jocelyn?"

"She's in my pocket."

They were about to further their questioning, when they heard the sounds of feet pounding heavily and rapidly on the ground. They all looked off in the direction of the sound, and saw Pallanza rush into the square, his blade held ready. The bangaa looked up as he approached them, and slowed down to a trot as he came up to them.

"Cheney," the bangaa said, amazed.

"Pallanza. It's been four years, hasn't it?"

"About that."

"Good to see you again."

"I wish it could have been in happier timesss."

"It doesn't matter," Cheney shrugged, then grinned ruefully. "I sort of made a promise to myself that I'd never see any of you again until I got to the afterlife."

"That isss four, then," Pallanza said, changing the subject abruptly. "Where isss Jocccelyn?"

"Firstly, where's Maxwell?" Ben asked.

"He attacked a full unit of the palaccce guard to buy me the time to get here."

"Wait, he attacked them _alone?_"

"I tried to stop him."

"Dammit." Ben cracked his neck, and started walking off the direction that Pallanza had come. "I'll save him."

"There isss no point," Pallanza said. "He did it of hisss own choiccce. Besssidesss, he isssn't sssstupid. He'll essscape when he'sss bought enough time."

Ben looked as though he were about to reply, but then glanced over to Eileen questioningly. The nu mou took a breath, and nodded. In response, Ben sighed, and turned back to them. "What do we do, then?"

"First, we'll need the fifth wielder of Ultima." Quin looked to Eileen. "Would you?"

"Fine," she murmured, reaching into her pocket, "just be ready for a fight."

Everybody's eyes widened noticeably as Eileen pulled the toad out of her pocket. It struggled violently in her grip, fighting to escape. Eileen laid it down on the earth, where it promptly started hopping away. Eileen took a deep breath, then pointed at the toad. "_Ende_"

There was a puff of smoke, instantly covering the toad and a good amount of the area around it. Everybody stepped back, alarmed at this.

They stared at the smoke, watching as it slowly began clearing. At first, they could see nothing, the smoke being too thick. However, still they waited.

Suddenly, something moved through the smoke, lunging out.

Cheney hopped back as the streak of black came at him, sweeping a hand out at the hunter. He stared, his jaw completely dropped open, as Jocelyn took another swing at him, this time catching him on the chin. He flew back several steps, hitting the ground hard and rolling.

The assassin lunged several steps ahead, drawing her hand back for another punch.

However, she stopped suddenly, staggering, as both Lini and Pallanza appeared in front of her, the Materia Blades held out ready to strike.

"Don't move, kupo."

Pallanza glanced down and over at Lini, surprised. Then, he said, very quietly, "You are sssso like your father."

"Don't mention it, kupo. Literally."

There was silence as the five wielders of Ultima stared at each other, carefully judging each other's reactions. Eileen and Ben, for their parts, simply stood back, staring at the five of them. It seemed very unlikely that they would ever resolve this situation without violence.

"Alright," Quin growled, stepping forward. There was a golden light slowly radiating from him now, covering him in an aura. "I won't let this little ensemble of Ultima wielders end the same way that the last one did. So, let's get this over with, and then do what we have to."

His eyes went from Jocelyn to Cheney and back again, glaring. In all truth, standing there like that, he was more frightening than Lini and Pallanza combined while wielding their weapons.

"Now, I don't know what happened between the two of you. None of us do. So, could you two please put whatever angst you have with each other on the table right now? It would be very nice. Jocelyn, you're first, seeing as nobody's seen you in four years."

Jocelyn glared back up at the nu mou, but Quin met her gaze squarely. They remained like that, staring at each other, for several seconds. Finally, Jocelyn looked away.

"I could kill you in an instant if I wanted to," she muttered.

"And I could burn all the flesh away from your skin, then heal all of it back, and burn it away again, over and over until your mind stopped working from the pain overload," Quin replied, not batting an eyelid. "But I won't, because I'm in a good mood and I need your help. Now, tell me why you're so intent on killing your father."

Ben and Eileen stared at each other, reading the other's expressions instantly. Had Quin just said that Cheney was Jocelyn's father?

"Well, let's see," Jocelyn spat, oblivious to the confusion of the two friends. "He led mother into a battle that they knew they couldn't win, just because that stupid Lini the Mogknight said that they should."

"So, in repercussion, you chose to steal the Zanmato and become a criminal?" Cheney demanded. He went on, sarcastically. "That makes perfectly logical sense, Jocelyn."

"I went out, and I taught myself how to use every single dark art in existence so that I could kill you. Then I taught myself Ultima, because only one who's mastered Ultima can truly understand the fury of battling another Ultima wielder. Or at least that's what all of you always said. But that almost killed me. Fortunately, that idiot Marche found me and decided to save me."

"You know why Eldena hid that weapon away," Cheney growled, standing slowly back up to his feet. He pointed a finger over to the Zanmato, which Eileen still held. "It's too dangerous. Eldena did everything to make sure that there would never be another Ultima Assassin. She taught herself to specialize in Red and _White_ magic, for Mateus' sake! And you think that unleashing that power again is what she would've wanted her daughter to—"

"You honestly think that I'm doing this for _her_?" the viera demanded, her brow tightening. "You're delusional. She was an idiot. Trying to 'lock away' the greatest power in the world? Don't make me laugh. This is all for _me._ I would have killed her, too, if that wound hadn't gotten to her first."

"What?"

Pallanza twirled around, his blade now held out in front of Cheney, while Lini remained holding Jocelyn back. It was just in time, as Cheney had been about to put an arrow to his bowstring.

"You should be wiser than to insult her..." Cheney still said. "I thought that I'd taught you better than that."

"You taught me nothing," she replied. "_I_ had to teach myself how to fight. How to shape magic. How to shoot a _bow_. I thought that was supposed to be your specialty?"

"The two of us did as much as we could."

"Did you? You were both always away on some sort of mission to save the world. As I remember it, I was left to fend for myself."

"Unfortunately, the world's fate was slightly more important than yours," Cheney said, shaking his head. "Though I apologize that you thought otherwise."

"You don't understand how it felt," Jocelyn growled, glaring past the mogknight and the gladiator. "None of you understa—"

There was a loud smack, and Jocelyn was thrown bodily backwards a good twenty feet. She hit the ground, and kept rolling over backwards, again and again. Before she'd even finished her flight, Lini had rushed forward, grabbing the viera by the front of her tight shirt and hefting her up. The viera stared up at her, gasping to get air back into her lungs.

"You're not the only person here who had angst when they were younger, kupo," Lini growled.

"What do you know?" Jocelyn demanded, finally catching her breath.

"Far more than you, apparently. Everybody has problems, kupo. You knew Quin and me growing up; we had just as many issues as you did. It just seems that you were the only one so self absorbed that you couldn't notice our issues, kupo." The moogle slammed Jocelyn back down into the ground, and stood up, glaring down at her. "You disgust me."

There was silence for a short time after this, as everybody held their ground, waiting for somebody else to speak. It was Quin who finally broke this silence.

"It seems like most of you have some sort of reason for not wanting to live," the nu mou observed. "Well, you all know why we're here. The Final Ultimatum ought to kill most of us. I suggest we do it, and let all of these stupid issues we all have end. The five of us are no longer fit to wield Ultima, it seems." Quin's eyes flicked over to Eileen for a moment, but went quickly back to the group. "Perhaps it's high time for us to pass on our power to the next generation."

Ben looked over to Eileen, suddenly realising why she'd been so hesitant to allow Quin to use the Final Ultimatum.

"I'm fine with it," Pallanza declared, keeping his eyes and his blade upon the hunter. "I've sssseen enough death in my lifetime. Perhaps if I can prevent some death by ending this life, I'll sssssleep peacccefully in eternity."

"Very eloquent, as always," Cheney muttered. "But I'd like to at least taste what it was like to be in the Ultima Four again before I die."

"My life is fate's blade to wield," Lini whispered, and glanced over to Quin. "I told you once before that I would follow your lead to my death. I stand by those words."

The four of them turned to face Jocelyn. She glared at all of them, but turned away at their combined gazes. Finally, she looked back, and said, "If you can guarantee that the hunter will die, I'll help."

"Good," Quin nodded, standing up straight. He looked to Ben and Eileen. "We'll need the two of you with us. You'll have to protect us while we get close enough to launch the attack, and we'll probably want Ben to be the one who'll go in to snap Jacqueline out of it. You'll have to go fast, though, because it won't take long for that thing to seal itself back up."

"What are we protecting you from?" Eileen asked.

"The palace," Ben realised. "They've got people everywhere. I even saw a few alchemists heading towards Exodus earlier."

There was silence after that declaration, as everybody stared at Ben in horror. The Blue mage glanced back at them, eying them curiously.

"What?"

"Didn't you see what happened when I tried to cast a spell on that thing?" Eileen demanded.

Ben's mouth worked for several seconds without saying anything. He finally settled on the word: "Shit."

"Where did you see them?"

"Outside of Cheney's hideout. They must be almost to Exodus by now."

"I'm going after them," Eileen announced, beginning to walk away. "You guys do the Final Ultimatum. I'll either convince them not to cast anything, or hold them off long enough for you to activate the Final Ultimatum."

"Eileen."

She stopped walking at the sound of Quin's voice. She turned around, and found him right in front of her. Their eyes bored into each other, and finally, Quin spoke.

"You know what this is."

"Yeah."

"When this is all over, you have to find the Zeus Mace. You're the person who's meant to wield it."

"I know. I..."

"Don't. Please, don't try to stop me."

"...I won't."

Their lips met, and neither of them moved for a good, long time. Then, Eileen pulled away, and nodded to Quin. She glanced over to Ben.

"I'll see you once this is all over."

"Right."

With that, she turned around, and ran out of the square as fast as her legs would carry her.

Quin watched her go for some time. Then, he looked back to the others, and said, "Let's get going. Ben, scout out the area in front of us."

And, thus, the five wielders of Ultima set out.

---

Maxwell stepped carefully, not wanting to so much as nudge one of the Exodus roots. As he went further, he was forced to use his jumps more and more to pass areas completely covered in the plant. He was probably half of a kilometre away from the tower, now, along with the great, main growth of Exodus.

It was odd, though. Despite the fact that the tree had originally seemed to literally lean upon and use the Tower of Adrammalech as a support, Exodus now appeared to be pulling away from it. The main growth had moved away from the tower, as though repulsed by it.

Perhaps the site actually was blessed by the totema of the bangaa, Maxwell reflected, looking ahead at the sea of green and brown before him. He eyed a small corner of one building which appeared to be unmarked by the roots, and bunched his legs up. He had to be careful. That fight had taken quite a toll on him, and his disappearing balance was just one of the symptoms.

He released the energy, and snapped his legs straight, swinging his arms to add momentum to the leap. He travelled high above the roots, not even watching them as he focused on his target.

He landed on the small patch of free space which the building afforded, and dug his legs in to stop himself. One foot came loose, and he leaned forward, dangling precariously over the edge of the building. He swung his arms wildly, and set his remaining leg like iron.

He stopped, and simply stood there, leaning over the ocean of roots. He gasped, and swallowed once, then breathed heavily to fill his empty lungs.

He was so filled with adrenaline and relief that he didn't notice as a single, scarlet drop of blood fell from a blood stained patch of fabric in his pants, and plummeted down to the plant.

He did notice, however, a strange tensing of all of the roots around him, as though they were flinching. Then, very slowly, they began uncoiling themselves from each other, and reaching up, letting out fingers to grasp for the bangaa.

Maxwell didn't hesitate. He threw himself from his position, jumping straight at one of the towering roots. Even as he flew through the air, he weighed his options.

He could hit the root with his left foot leading, and used that limb to twirl himself into position so he could then jump off from the root into the city, fleeing away from Exodus. Or, perhaps, he could lead with his right foot, and do the exact same action the opposite way, fighting his way through deeper and deeper levels of Exodus until he reached the Tower of Adrammalech and Isaac.

In that split second, he decided, and, as his right foot smacked into the root, and all of the other roots twirled around to swarm in at him, Maxwell flying towards the tall structure, chased behind and below by a mass of all-consuming tentacles.

---

Eileen knew where they would go. Fortunately, while planning the operation to break Caesar out of prison with Ezel, the alchemist had learnt much of the street plan of Sprohm. It was this which had aided her when riding the wagon away from the prison, making it unnecessary for her to slow down and look for directions.

So, it was only natural that she knew where the Alchemists would be heading. There was a smallish three story building not too far from where Exodus was; it was the perfect place to cast a spell from. Without a doubt, they were planning a combined meteorite, so they'd want open air access. That building was the tallest, aside from the Tower of Adrammalech, for quiet some distance around Exodus. Meaning that that was where she would meet them. There, she would either stop them from probably destroying the entire city, or die trying.

She rounded the last corner on her way, and stared at the group of heavily robed figures, picking their way over the scattered bits of debris and heading towards the door to the building.

"Wait!" she yelled, not knowing what else to do. The heads of all of the nu mou snapped around, and Eileen found nine golden Third Eyes glaring back at her. She moaned. They all just had to be of the highest rank.

"Mindclear?" a voice called out, and Eileen felt like she might just kill herself then and there. Of all people, Bartholemue Greatspell just had to be leading the expedition. Oh well, it couldn't be helped.

"You have to stop," she yelled over to them, pausing to breathe. They seemed to have stopped moving, for the moment at least. All of them were looking at the young Alchemist with the master's hat on, waiting for her to speak. "You don't know what you're doing."

"What do you mean, Mindclear? We know exactly what we're doing." Bartholemue pointed at the plant. "Do you have any idea what that is?"

"Of course I do," Eileen replied, drawing herself up. "That creature is an incarnation of Exodus, and one of my friends is caught at its core."

"Ah," the head Alchemist said, nodding his head slowly. Eileen instantly flinched, and swore under her breath, realising her mistake before Bartholemue even pointed it out. "I understand that you would not wish to have any harm befall your friend, but unfortunately—"

"It has nothing to do with the fact that she's there," Eileen interrupted. "This thing is more powerful than you think. You can't hope to defeat it."

"Mindclear, your feelings play no part in this," Bartholemue replied, his voice harder this time. "This is far larger than you and your personal relationships."

"You'll destroy everything, though! Why can't you just give up your pride and listen to me for once in your life!"

"Eileen Mindclear, you are out of line. If you say so much as one more word, I will see to it personally that you never manage to become a member of any mage's society in Ivalice."

"What?"

"Lives are at stake, Mindclear. If you find yourself unable to deal with that reality, then I suggest you leave now and find some place to hide yourself until the battle is over. Now, let us continue."

Eileen stared at the alchemists, her mouth working without making noise as they all turned away and started stepping into the building. Was that it? Were they just going to walk away, treating her like some petulant child? What would happen if they did cast that spell? If the small amount of energy she'd poured into her first spell had given it that much power, then imagine just how much stronger Exodus would be with the energy from nine meteorites flowing through it. If that happened, there would be no way for Ben and the others to get close enough to pull off the Final Ultimatum. The sudden growth would probably wipe them all out. And then Maxwell, wherever he was; after a fight with that many soldiers, he must have been hurt quite badly in that fight against the guards. How would he flee from Exodus like that? And Isaac? The pit in her chest got deeper as she thought of him. Even if he was still alive, the odds were that, beneath the ground as he was, he wouldn't survive the spreading roots. It was all falling apart.

_If I don't do this now,_ she realised, pulling herself back up, _everything is over._

"Greetings, Bartholemue Greatspell," Eileen's voice rang out, and once again, the alchemists stopped walking and turned to stare. Bartholemue, who was at the back, turned, eyes widening as he heard the beginning of the challenge. "Unfortunate though it may be that we two are on opposite sides of this coin, the battle rages still."

Silence reigned as Eileen finished speaking the words, and she narrowed her eyes. For what seemed like an eternity, Bartholemue stared back across the space at her, clearly unsure of whether or not she was serious. However, her eyes left him with no alternative belief. Eileen Mindclear had challenged him.

He finally looked down, sighing, and started shrugging off his heavier over-robe.

"Master Greatspell," one of the alchemists behind him said, "do you think it wise to actually engage her? Time is pressing."

"Begin the casting without me," he replied, then glanced towards Eileen. "I'll be up as soon as I'm done with her."

The other alchemist nodded, and then turned, ushering the others up the stairs. Bartholemue stood up straight, then looked to Eileen.

"Greetings, Eileen Mindclear," he answered the challenge, shaking his hands out. "The battle rages, and we two flip the coin."

Orange light exploded from each of them, his tinged black, hers with borders of gold, and filled the street.

---

Quin looked up suddenly, his eyes hardening. "She's started fighting."

Ben glanced back at the sage, surprised. "You can feel her magic all the way from here?"

"Hers," Quin nodded, "and Greatspell's."

"She's fighting Greatspell?"

"It seems like it. Either way, I think this is far enough."

They all stopped, glancing over at Quin in surprise. They stood in the centre of a very long and empty street. The street was so long, in fact, that it led straight from where they stood all the way to the main growth of Exodus, at least a kilometre and a half away.

"Are we close enough?"

"Of course we are," Quin nodded. "So long as I manage to control my power, I'll be able to send it down through there, and blow a big enough hole in the shell. Ben, you try and get a position quite close to it. You won't have much time."

"Alright," the Blue mage nodded, and started walking away. He stopped, though, after a few steps and turned back. He looked at the five of them, and shook his head slowly. "Thank you. All of you. I—"

"Go," Cheney ordered, stepping towards him. "We're not doing this just for you, so get going."

Ben didn't move for some time. Then, he nodded, turned, and ran.

The five wielders of Ultima watched as the mage became smaller and smaller in their vision. Then, finally, as one, they turned away, and got into a circle.

"This is the end, then," Cheney murmured.

"You're ssssounding regretful about that, old friend."

"What can I say?" the hunter said. "That kid seems interesting. I would have liked to see how he turns out. And that Isaac one, too."

"Isaac?" Jocelyn snorted. "He's the weakest one of the lot."

"Maybe, kupo," Lini nodded, glancing over to Quin. "But now we have a decision to make."

"Right. Who will sssstart the attack?" Pallanza asked, turning to Quin as well.

The nu mou's face was shadowed, his head bowed. He appeared to be counting things out on the fingers of his right hand, and mouthing things silently. Finally, he spoke.

"The person who acts first is most likely to survive. Whoever it is, it has to be somebody that can still fight this thing off without the help of Ultima. So far, I've only seen one person actually damage this thing. Lini?"

Before her name had finished leaving Quin's mouth, Lini was speaking. "No. Somebody else should be spared. I can do this."

"This isn't up for discussion," Quin said, glancing over at her.

"Besssidesss, you are the one of usss who is leasssst accussstomed to controlling Ultima."

"What're you saying, kupo? That I'm too weak for this?" Lini growled.

"The reason we're picking you for this is because you're stronger than any of us without the Ultima powers," Quin said, standing up slowly. "Not to mention, Pallanza is right. This requires incredible control over Ultima from everybody required. I hate to say this, but if somebody were to trip up, it would be you." Quin didn't wait for her to reply, instead turning to the others and continuing. "After her, Jocelyn, I want you to take it and provide the two Ultima stage. You might still survive that, depending on how strong you are. Pass the charge along to Cheney for three Ultimas, who'll give it to Pallanza. Then, Pallanza, once he's given the attack four Ultimas, can give it to me, and I'll finish it up alone with five. Now, Lini, begin your charge of Ultima, and then we can get going."

Lini looked as though she were going to argue, but stopped, instead choosing to simply shake her head. Her paw went to the hilt of her blade, and the Materia Blade came out of its sheath in one, smooth movement. Every so slowly, everything, all of the chaos and fear and terror of that moment, began leaning in around the mogknight.

The others drew their weapons, and waited.

---

Maxwell pulled a summersault in midair, pulling his mass over a branch which was swinging at him. As he came over the otherside, the shockwaves from the displaced air shaking him somewhat, he glanced down, and saw a large vine coming up at him.

He reached down, and grabbed onto the vine with his free hand, swinging himself around it so that the thing wouldn't impale or crush him. Then, he released his grip, and flew, straight through the air as vines and branches came in around him.

Maxwell landed on the side of a building, digging his spear in to keep himself from falling, and turned to look back at what was coming at him. What he found was a mass of green and brown, writhing as a unified force.

The dragoon sucked in his breath, feeling energy building in his throat. He expelled it, and a ball of flame shot out, rocketing through the distance between Maxwell and the Exodus growths. The flame hit it, and the plant burst into flames wherever the flames touched.

Maxwell stared as the vines writhed not in attack, this time, but in apparent agony. Why hadn't the plant absorbed it, like it had Eileen's flare spell? His attack was much weaker, so it should have been able to absorb it so much easier...

Several things snapped into place in Maxwell's mind, and his eyes widened. Of course. His breath attacks used no magical power. They were biological abilities, developed by an affinity with dragons. There was no magical energy for Exodus to absorb.

"Meaning..." he whispered, dropping down. He watched as the vines beneath him surged up, ready to rip him to pieces. Just as they were about to entwine about his ankles, Maxwell's powerful lungs filled with air, and he threw his head down, exhaling. What looked like blue smoke shot forth, condensing and super chilling all of the moisture in the air. As the mist washed over the Exodus vines, they slowed in their movement, and eventually stopped. Maxwell landed on one of the vines in a crouch, and glanced up at the forest which still stood between himself and the Tower of Adrammalech.

Suddenly, it didn't seem near as far away as before.

"Let's go," he growled, and charged forward. Vines reached out for him, and fire filled his mouth, overflowing and spilling out the sides. He spat ball after ball of the stuff, forcing back all of masses of roots coming at him. Whenever a group got close enough to him, or he had to land to breathe, Maxwell would shoot a gust of frosty wind, freezing the plant solid. More than once, he had to swing his spear out in front of himself after freezing several vines in front of him. Each time he did, the vines would simply shatter, giving him a clear path.

The only problem with this was that, as he approached closer and closer to the core of Exodus, the plant began finding him a greater and greater threat. As such, it kept sending more and more vines at him, trying to shake the powerful bangaa off. Of course, Maxwell's goal itself was right next to the central protective cocoon which housed Jacqueline. So, he could only expect things to get worse. Now as he blew flames, he found that he had less and less time between each breath attack. True, he was drawing closer to his target; however, what he would do when he got there was beyond the bangaa.

He briefly considered discharging a shot of Ultima, but then realised that he no longer held the Materia Blade. After this, he considered whether he'd be able to burn his way in. But that would take far too long. His back would be completely exposed during the attacks, and he would be ripped apart for sure.

He touched down on a frozen bit of vegetation, then quickly kicked off into his next jump. The sudden change in momentum sent his sash bouncing up and then down, slapping his leg with its weight. Then, inspiration struck.

It would take a moment to pull off. That moment might take too long. Also, after he'd done it, he would probably be completely exhausted for some time. If that happened, he'd be dead. However, Isaac would have a chance to escape, and that was all that was important.

Maxwell shot one last blast of fire, and landed. He had one more jump to go, and he'd be there. Right now, he was probably twenty metres from the back entrance to the tower. He bunched his legs up.

Suddenly, he felt something on his ankle. He glanced down, and his face paled as he saw a single tendril of Exodus wrapping around his ankle, slowly tightening.

He raised his other foot, trying to bring it down and stamp the thing off of him. However, as he brought the second foot down, another vine grabbed it, and he was caught, his legs crossed awkwardly. Maxwell, being dizzy from his battle already, fell back, landing hard on his back. Another vine instantly encircled his right arm, pulling it down to the ground. The bangaa began struggling, punching with his left arm to keep it from getting captured.

However, the deed was already done. More vines rushed in, and began reinforcing the wrappings around his legs and his right arm. One larger vine went over his chest, pulling him down and stealing his breath. Maxwell felt fire rushing through his veins, even as his eyes widened, and realised that panic was setting in. The bangaa heaved his chest, trying to tear the vines from his body. However, even as the great vine over his chest began creaking, three more reached up to reinforce it, throwing Maxwell back to the ground.

Maxwell stopped struggling, gasping instead for breath as his thoughts raced. Was this how it would end, then? Crushed by a giant tree, trying to save Isaac while Ben and Eileen were who knew where and Jacqueline was being used as a conduit for a giant beast of rage? Was that their destiny? To die, along with hundreds, maybe thousands of others, for no reason whatsoever. Was that it?

"No..." he growled, and, with one last feat of strength, he heaved his left shoulder up. The vines either bent or snapped as his muscles bulged with the effort, and his left arm reached down and across his torso to grab desperately at his sash. Maxwell forced air into his lungs, and then screamed, as loud as he could, "Adrammalech!"

---

"It's ready," Lini said, a slight tremor in her voice. Jocelyn nodded to her, and then held the Zanmato out. Both of them gasped as Lini laid the Materia Blade across the katana, and their eyes met.

Both nodded at once.

"Ultima," Lini declared, letting her one charge of Ultima flow from her weapon into Jocelyn's. The force of the discharge threw the moogle back, her body cutting a path clear through the air until she slammed into the side of a building. The breath flew from her body, and Lini slipped to the ground, groaning in pain.

However, none of the other four assembled paid any attention to her. Their eyes were locked on Jocelyn, as her hands tightened around the hilt of the Zanmato. She was already charging her first bout of Ultima, her body showing the strain caused by holding Lini's Ultima charge. Her feet were set far apart from each other as her body shook, forcing the energy to appear from the air around her.

Cheney put an arrow to his string, breathing in and out, as he waited for his own turn.

---

"_Wasser_!"

"_Feuer_!"

The spells flew from their lips at the same instant, and roared through the distance between them. While the spells were normally quite basic, the force of the two Alchemists' energies, filling the area, multiplied their power. This made the fire spell, which was meant to produce a couple flames, turn into a massive inferno. The water spell, which was supposed to be a tiny orb, turned into a titanic wave which filled the street.

The two slammed into each other, and both spellcasters were deafened by the hiss of steam. Eileen ducked her head, pulling her hand up so that her robes were covering her face. She took a couple steps back, and waited for a moment. She eyed the wall of steam. Those spells were clearly being amplified. She glanced around her, and noted the noticeable orange tinge to the air.

"Dammit," she whispered, realising that they were both haemorrhaging magic at an incredible rate. If they kept up like this, then the moment either of them cast a major spell, they'd both get blown apart.

She closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths. Instantly, the orange light around her dimmed and began pulling back within her. On the other side of the barrier, she could feel Bartholemue doing the same with his own considerable magic abilities.

Suddenly, amidst the dimming magics, Eileen felt a spike. She jumped back, opening her eyes. Before her, there was a great spire of ice shooting up from the ground. It stretched up and forward, reaching for her.

Eileen pointed her hands carefully, aiming her spell. "_Aufflackern_!"

There was a roar, and a splintering noise as fire erupted from the earth where the base of the ice was situated. Instantly, the great lump of ice pitched forward, losing its balance. It smashed into the ground, shattering everywhere.

The steam was beginning to clear, and it afforded Eileen a clear view of her opponent.

The head of the alchemists stood, holding both hands pointing carefully at Eileen. His face was emotionless, but for his eyes. Those, even from that distance, were filled with curiosity. Eileen had heard much of Bartholemue's career as a duellist mage. He enjoyed the battles not because of the adrenaline or the experience gained. He liked reading somebody through their combat style.

Perhaps it was time to show him a bit of who she truly was.

"_Gift_!" Eileen yelled, pointing at her opponent's feet. Her magic flowed, and it became tainted. A green gas rose from Bartholemue's feet, and he was forced to jump to the side and out of the way of it.

Perfect. Eileen threw more magic out, and whipped one hand in his general direction. "_Wind_!"

A whirlwind leapt from her offered hand, zooming across the small clear area. Bartholemue was about to dodge, but then realised that it was going far to the right. She'd missed.

It went by him, and he forgot about it until a split second later, when he heard a cracking noise behind him. He twirled around to stare at the source of the noise. Instantly, he threw his hands up, as a large pile of rubble, disturbed by the heavy wind, tumbled towards him. "_Eis_."

A small yet thick wall of ice came up, blocking him from the danger. The nu mou turned around, feeling the spell coming towards him.

He pointed at the ground, and barked out a sharp command as the ground beneath him started rumbling. Instantly, the energy pouring into the spell died, and the rumble faded away. He held up his own hands, and a blinding white light gathered in each one.

Eileen, recognizing the preparations for a lightning spell, held her own hands up, thinking desperately for some kind of spell which could protect her from it. As she was thinking, however, Bartholemue let loose, sending a single bolt flying her way. It slammed into her chest, sending painful shocks running up her body. The bolt disappeared as quickly as it had appeared, and Eileen dropped to her knees, panting. She saw that one of Bartholemue's hands was still glowing, showing that he had another spell prepared. Even worse, he was already drawing that hand back to send the energy at her.

Eileen's eyes raced, and she found a large piece of debris hanging over her. She quickly sent a blast of wind up at it, knocking the thing loose. She jumped back as best as she could, letting the debris land in front of her and take the lightning's attack.

The alchemist gasped once, grabbing her chest and trying not to throw up. She'd always hated the electric spells. They hurt so much. Not to mention, Bartholemue was so bloody strong that his electricity was at least ten times stronger than normal. She'd just had to choose to fight the strongest alchemist alive, hadn't she?

There was a rumbling beneath her, and Eileen rolled forward, getting out of the way just in time for her protective wall of debris to explode. She came up to her feet, and cast a quick spell in the time she'd have between his castings.

She turned to face him again, and found, much to her surprise, that he was standing only about five metres from her.

"Mindclear," he growled. "This is madness. Surrender now."

"I can't," she said simply. "If I surrender now, then all of you will cast your spell."

"You know that you can't win against me! Why do you so wish to waste your life?"

"I have no choice," she muttered, glaring at him. Then, a slight smile came to her face. "Besides, I've been wanting to take a crack at you for a while now."

"I won't hold back."

"Good."

"_Gift_!"

Eileen held up her hands, taking the inverse of the poison spell diagram deep into her mind. Quickly, she threw magic into it, and felt the poison spell which Greatspell had been sending her way fizzle and die.

She gasped, and panted a few times at the exertion of casting the counter. It was the first time that she'd managed one.

However, she got no congratulations for her accomplishment, instead, she found herself gazing up at Bartholemue, still several metres away, as he called out, "_Kröte__Werden_!"

She felt the magic spilling forth from him, sending the transforming spell her way. Eileen didn't even bother to try and block this one; instead, she let the protective spell she had cast before take the blow from it. She took this opportunity to point at him, yelling, "_Wasser_!"

The orb of water came in and smashed into his face, sending the nu mou tripping backwards over himself. He hit the ground lightly, rolling up to his feet quite quickly. Eileen sent a wind attack to follow up her water, wanting to keep him on the move. Bartholemue, however, simply took the attack, letting the powerful winds buffet him. As they were doing so, he pointed and yelled something that Eileen didn't hear. A moment later, a great shard of ice shot up from the ground before Eileen.

She tried to get out of the way, but it still caught her on her side. A chill shot through that half of her body, contrasted by a sharp, burning pain where the shard cut through her robes and into her skin. Blood smeared over the ice tip, dripping onto the earth.

Eileen stumbled backwards, clutching at her side and trying to remember the White magic she knew. However, none of the spells would come to mind. She'd never used it all that much, and when using that much magic, it was hard to use less well-known spells.

The alchemist looked up at her opponent from her wound, and bit her lip as she jumped to the side. This saved her from being burned by a fire spell, which went wide of her. Instead, as she pulled herself up to her feet, Bartholemue sent a bolt of lightning at her.

Once again, it hit her straight on. Eileen was thrown backwards by the force, as more painful spasms ran throughout her body. She threw her head back, opening her mouth to let out a silent scream of pain. Finally, the current ended, and Eileen collapsed to the ground, groaning.

She lay there, her robes smouldering, hearing the slow footsteps of her opponent slowly growing louder. They came slowly closer, resonating, until finally they stopped, and Bartholemue's head loomed over her.

"Are you going to give up?"

"No," she hissed.

"Fine," he muttered. "Then I have to kill you."

"If you must."

He pointed down at her, and barked out a command. "_Sie__Sterben_!"

Orange light bunched up around his hands, quickly darkening down to black. It held but one thing in its embrace: death.

Eileen panted, staring up at it.

Bartholemue flared his hands out, sending the darkness down at her.

Eileen, using the last of her energy, rolled out of the way, letting the darkness smash into the ground beneath her instead. She came back up again, and pointed at the male nu mou, letting her own magic build.

"_Energie__Abfluss_!"

Her magic spiked out, almost like a thin blade of some sort. It flew forward, and stabbed into Bartholemue, ripping in one side and out the other. As the blade came out the far side, it dragged along with it, instead of blood, a darker shade of orange magic, sending it spilling across the ground.

Bartholemue's eyes widened, and he slumped down to his feet, panting. His fingers started shaking, and he had to shake his head to keep himself awake. Suddenly, he became aware that Eileen was standing again, and that her hands were pointed at him, an aura of orange and gold surrounding them.

"Due to the laws of magical duels, you can no longer continue to battle," she informed him needlessly. He knew the rules far better than her. "I win."

Bartholemue stared at her, his eyes and mouth wide open. He started shaking his head slowly, then stopped, staring at her.

"Do you know what this means?"

"It means that I get to save the world," she muttered. "If you'd let me talk, you would've heard that that thing _absorbs _magical attacks."

"What?"

"If they set off that combined meteor, Exodus will become infinitely more powerful," she told him, scowling at him in annoyance. "You may have just caused the end of the world."

He looked at her, shaking his head. He couldn't comprehend it. "Then..."

"I have to stop those other eight mages now," she muttered, glancing down at her own shaking fingers. "Fortunately I keep a spare supply of magic."

"Then go," he ordered, glancing back at the building behind him. She started walking towards it, when both of their eyes widened at the same time. They each felt the sudden build in power and energy, reaching upwards.

"They've already started..." she muttered. "It's too late."

"Not yet," Bartholemue countered, pointing. Eileen followed his finger, seeing that he was pointing at a building across from that which the eight alchemists were using. "Your only chance is to wait until their attack comes. Then, use whatever magic you have to erect a magical shield to block it."

"Got it," she muttered, not bothering to comment on the impossibility or the danger of that plan. She simply started walking, headed towards building.

"But Eileen, you do know what this duel means, right?"

She paused, and lowered her head. "Of course."

"Alright, then. Good luck, milady."

She nodded, and her hands curled into fists. Then, Eileen Greatspell, head of the Alchemists' Guild of Cadoan, proven by combat, walked off towards her destiny.

---

Jocelyn's knees finally buckled beneath her as she began reaching the climax of her second Ultima. Veins were bulging out against her skin all over her body, and sweat ran freely from every pore. The Zanmato, lying in her hands, shone so bright that the others had to shield their eyes from it.

"I-it's ready," she stammered, fear coming to her eyes for the first time since she'd left her home those many years before.

Cheney stepped forward, his knuckles white while gripping his bow. He took several deep breaths, and then laid an arrow to the string, offering the length to Jocelyn. She placed the Zanmato flat against it, and took several deep breaths.

"For what it's worth—"

"Don't apologize," she interrupted him. "This may be the first thing I've ever done for somebody else in my life. It'll be the last, too. At least give me the satisfaction of being able to hate you when I die."

He nodded slowly, not needing any other confirmation. They kept their eyes locked as they waited, and then, both nodded together.

"Ultima," she whispered.

Jocelyn's back arched violently, bending partially backwards as all energy flowed from her body down into the Zanmato and through its connection to the Seventh Heaven. As soon as the light burning in the katana failed, Jocelyn's body slipped down to fall on the floor, completely lifeless.

Cheney's eyes shot wide open as the shock of carrying the energy came to him. He suddenly bit his lip, so hard that blood began flowing. He growled in pain, and then started pouring his own power into the Final Ultimatum.

Lini staggered over, staring at the three remaining. She'd had no idea of the pain that the attack would cause for all of them. Even the simple act of transferring one Ultima charge to Jocelyn had nearly been too much for her. Pallanza had said that she reminded him of her father; he had lied. She was nowhere near as strong. He'd been known to accomplish up to three Ultimas in a single battle. She was only just beginning to learn.

Suddenly, Lini, Pallanza and Quin all flinched at once, turning to stare off in the direction of Exodus.

"Did you two feel that as well, kupo?" Lini panted.

"Yes," Quin nodded slowly. "It felt like..."

"Power," Pallanza clarified. "We ssshould invessstigate."

"I'll go," Lini muttered, reaching down to rub the pain out of her ankle. "You guys have a date with eternity, kupo."

"Right," Quin nodded. "Good luck."

"Thanks, kupo." She turned to leave.

Pallanza's voice stopped her. "Don't let it rule your life."

"...kupopo?"

"You're better than we were," he explained. "Don't let the power turn you into something you're not. Remember that you're still mortal, and that you have your own needs."

Lini glanced over her shoulder at the two of them, and Cheney next to them, whose didn't even seem to realize that they were speaking. She took a deep breath. One had been her closest friend growing up. One had been as close as an uncle to her.

"Thank you. Good bye."

She didn't even wait for their reply. Instead, she ran off into the night as Cheney sent his first charge of Ultima into the Seventh Heaven.

---

As Maxwell's voice echoed throughout the street, far louder and far deeper than it should have been, the pain in the dragoon's chest suddenly lifted. He felt the vines which, a moment before, had been squeezing all life from his limbs suddenly slacken. They untangled themselves from him, and pulled slowly away.

A bright light lit up the sky above him, and suddenly, standing over Maxwell's battered form there stood a majestic dragon.

The creature was enormous. Even the Worldwyrm paled in comparison to this beast. Its every detail embodied power. Muscles bulged out everywhere, and the eyes, set on either side of a razor-filled muzzle, radiated a rage tempered by unfathomable wisdom.

Maxwell shook his head slowly, not knowing whether he was hallucinating or not. Before him was the greatest of all dragons, lord of the bangaas, and keeper of the third worldthread, Adrammalech.

The totema turned its gaze down slowly to fix its eyes upon Maxwell. It opened its mouth, and a billion voices began speaking as one. Amongst them, Maxwell managed to pick up those of Pallanza, and Robert of Clan Nutsy. Perhaps the most disorienting of all, however, was hearing his own voice carried along with that cascade of words.

Then, Adrammalech was speaking with him, and without understanding why, Maxwell was replying. As the dragon went on talking to him, Max began slowly shaking his head, his eyes widening even more in horror. He tried to deny what the totema said, but found himself witnessing a terrible series of images of the consequences to the world if he didn't obey.

Finally, his hands clamped in shaking fists, Maxwell nodded. Then, Adrammalech pointed down at him.

"In that casssse," the billion voices said, "I grant you my power, both now and until you shall die. Your gift shall be greater and lessser than thossse of your friendssss, and your fate grander but darker. For now, at leasssst, direct my attack."

Maxwell nodded, and pointed his finger towards the base of the Tower of Adrammalech. He made sure that he was pointing specifically at the plant covered hole in the wall, knowing that it would take most of the power to drill an opening into it.

Adrammalech nodded gravely, and Maxwell prayed that he was making the right choice.

The great dragon sucked in its breath. Maxwell was actually forced to throw himself to the ground to keep from being pulled along with that great intake of wind. Then, Adrammalech leaned suddenly forward, and a light which Maxwell couldn't even describe shot out.

The blast washed over everything it touched, instantly making it disappear. Wherever growths of Exodus got in the way, they instantly burst into black flames, withering away and disappearing. Maxwell's eyes widened slightly as he noticed the light coming towards him, too. He turned and began taking a step to run, but then the light had caught him up and overtaken him.

The dragoon found himself lost amongst the all-consuming light, wondering suddenly if summoning the totema had been a good idea. It seemed as though he, too, would be taken apart, one atom at a time, and have his existence completely erased.

However, after the first couple seconds, Maxwell felt something completely different from his end. In fact, he felt as though he were getting stronger. There was a soft burning in all his veins; it wasn't painful, though. In fact, it was oddly pleasant. It was as though somebody had taken a bolt of lightning and injected it straight into him.

That would have been fine, however, a moment later, the empowerment he was feeling was taken a step further. He didn't understand how, but it seemed as though he was becoming... superior. He moved his tongue inside of his mouth, and realised that his teeth were growing slightly longer and sharper. An itching sensation which was oddly familiar to him passed over his entire body. He tried to recall where he had felt it before, and quickly placed it. It was the same itching he'd felt when his thin scales had grown in as he was becoming a bangaa.

The dragoon reached down to touch the skin of his forearm, and was surprised by the texture. It seemed slightly rougher. He pushed on it, and while he still felt his fingers brushing over that area, the skin itself offered much more resistance to his touch.

More changes, most being quite subtle, came over him, but he didn't have enough time to take note of them. For, a moment later, the light faded away, and the totema with it. Maxwell glanced over at the tower, and his eyes widened.

Standing in the hole which was left by the burnt away plants was Isaac. His right hand was still bound, the blood staining the fabric. His fedora sat on his head, pulled partially down over his eyes. In his left paw, the Avuir Blue hung comfortably down, ready to jump out and bite.

Maxwell's eyes widened as he swayed in his steps. Was he hallucinating? Isaac was out of bed? How was that possible...?

With that thought, Maxwell's knees buckled, and he finally fell forward, smashing into the earth with a heavy thump.

Isaac, seeing his friend starting fall, ran forward to the bangaa's side. He knelt down next to him in the shattered and broken street, reaching down to the bangaa's neck. He was surprised by how hard the skin felt, but ignored that, pushing harder.

He felt it. A pulse, very quick, but weak. Isaac turned Maxwell over off of his front and onto his back, eyes widening as he saw all of the arrow holes which peppered his friend's body.

"What have you been doing, kupo?" he muttered.

Something rustled behind him, and Isaac spun around, blade ready. His eyes widened as a large tree root came into his field of vision, slithering in towards him. He eyed it in curiosity, not completely certain whether this thing was an enemy or not.

He got his answer a moment later. The thing shot forward at an incredible speed, slamming into his chest. Isaac gasped as he was thrown into the air, flying until he hit the wall of a nearby building. He dropped down, landing heavily on his front, and the fedora slipped from his head.

Isaac looked up quickly, and saw the thing heading towards Maxwell, beginning to wrap around one of his legs. Not even thinking, Isaac stood up, hopping easily over the fallen hat and charging at the monstrosity.

It 'looked' up just before he reached it, unwinding and turning towards him. It punched forward again, but Isaac was ready this time. He hopped sideways, letting it shoot by him. Not letting the opportunity go by, he turned, raising the Avuir Blue above his head.

He brought the weapon back down, the point leading. The impact jarred his left paw, sending vibrations running up along his arm and into his shoulder. However, as he continued pressing, he felt the pressure giving way. He drove the weapon down through the root until he felt the hilt come flush against it. The thing started wriggling violently, but Isaac wouldn't let it go.

He let the fire in his chest, the heat he'd felt when he'd seen the thing trying to take Maxwell, and the painful, aching burning in his arm run down into the blade. Much to his surprise, the Avuir Blue accepted his offering, and burst into flames.

The root started writhing even stronger, and then pulled back violently. The surprise and the force of the pull wrenched the hilt of the blade out of Isaac's paw, and it instantly extinguished itself. However, that root of Exodus had had enough, and pulled quickly back and out of sight.

Isaac panted, but knew he had to get moving. There was no knowing when another of those roots would come back, and he no longer had the Avuir Blue with him. He briefly mourned the loss of the magnificent weapon, but then knelt by Maxwell, grabbing one of his wrists with his paw, and reaching forward to grab the other hand.

However, as he did so, he realised that his hand wouldn't move. For that matter, he couldn't even feel his hand. Curious as to why that was, he dropped Maxwell's hand, and quickly undid his bandages. He unwound them, and finally saw his paw.

For a moment, he thought he would be sick. He stopped himself, however, and took it in carefully. Most of the fur on it was gone, having withered up and died. There was a huge scar which took up almost the entire main section of the paw. It had no doubt sealed up from White magic. The fingers themselves looked alright, but they were abnormally pale.

He tried to move his thumb. It didn't budge. He tried bending his wrist. It remained prone. Finally, Isaac reached down to touch his paw, and there was no feeling in the thing.

He stood there for a moment, breathing deep and slow, in and out. Then, he reached out and grabbed Maxwell's hand with his left paw again, and clamped his right elbow around the bangaa's other hand.

He pulled with all his force, and began dragging Maxwell back towards the Tower of Adrammalech at a painfully slow pace. He wasn't sure how, but he _knew_ that those things wouldn't follow them in there. He couldn't explain why; he just did. So, he pulled as hard as he could, bringing the mighty bangaa along with him.

"Dammit," he gasped, pausing to wipe sweat from his paw. "Why do I always get caught dragging them around, kupo? I'm a quarter of their bloody size!"

He took the bangaa's hands again, and kept pulling him along. His grunting and the scrabbling of his feet on the broken pavement made a good deal of noise. However, he still heard the subtle scraping sound from off to his left.

The moogle turned to glance, and cursed beneath his breath. There were dozens of vines and roots, this time, coming towards them from around a corner several streets down. Isaac began pulling harder, kicking at the ground as adrenaline began flowing. He probably had about four metres to go, but that may as well have been miles while dragging Maxwell.

"Come on," he growled, pulling desperately now. "Why couldn't _I_ have been the freaking bangaa? Come _on_!"

Two metres now, but the vines couldn't have been more than a hundred metres away. They would reach them in less than a minute, and Isaac knew he needed more time than that to get Maxwell into the tower. He panted, pulling until he felt his shoulders would rip away from the rest of his body. The closer they came, the more he felt his blood racing. He was so close. Why did he have to be so freaking close and so freaking helpless?

Isaac glanced back towards the vines, and his throat went dry. In that moment, he realized that he was going to die. He wouldn't be able to get Maxwell inside in time, and he would never leave his companion alone. What with neither of them having a weapon, and both of them heavily injured, they stood no chance.

Isaac felt his foot come down on a loose piece of stone, and suddenly, his feet were slipping out from beneath him. He dropped, landing heavily on his bottom and gasping in pain. He looked up, and saw that the vines were already upon them.

Something moved in Isaac's peripheral vision, and suddenly, a flash of red and white appeared between the plant growths and the two friends.

"Isaac, move, kupo!" Lini's powerful voice bellowed.

Not hesitating, Isaac grabbed Maxwell, and began pulling him again. Lini swept the Avuir Red back and forth, beating the vines and roots back.

Isaac finally managed to drag the heavy bangaa into the Tower of Adrammalech, then called to Lini. She jumped back, landing directly in front of the hole facing outwards. Without a moment's hesitation, she jumped again, pulling a perfect backflip through the hole. She stumbled heavily on her landing, her ankle twisting awkwardly.

Just as Isaac had guessed, the vines stopped as soon as they reached the threshold of the Tower, choosing instead to curl backwards and drift around lazily.

"What's going on, kupo?" Isaac demanded, before Lini even had a chance to catch her breath.

"That creature is Exodus," Lini explained quickly between pants. She went on quickly to describe everything else that was happening, pausing for nothing other than the occasional breath. By the time that she was done, Isaac was rubbing the skin between his eyebrows with his left paw, as the right hung awkwardly at his side.

"Where is everyone, kupo?"

"Ben is waiting for the Final Ultimatum so that he can save Jacqueline, and Eileen is trying to prevent some Alchemists from using meteor on Exodus."

"And Thomas?" Isaac asked.

Lini paused for a moment, and looked carefully at him. "When Maxwell came up onto the roof, he said that Thomas was trying to kill you..."

"Where is he?"

"Maxwell killed him."

Isaac's eyes widened, but other than that, he showed no reaction. His hand, kneading the flesh between his eyebrows, rubbed harder for a moment. Then, he started talking again.

"Is your leg alright, kupo?"

"No." She swore briefly. "I think that I twisted it when I sent my Ultima to Jocelyn. I can't move, kupo."

"Then I have to go back out there, kupo," he finally decided.

"Kupopo?"

"My friends are the ones risking their lives right now, kupo. I should be there."

Lini eyed him for a long time, her eyes impossible to read. They went from his face down to his ruined paw, to the empty sheath at his side to the good paw which was clenched in a fist.

"Fine, kupo. You'll need a weapon though."'

With that, she reached up, and pulled the Materia Blade, belt, sheath and all, away from her shoulder. She brought it up so that she held it horizontally before her in both hands, and offered it to him.

"Take this."

Isaac eyed the weapon carefully. "I can't take that Lini."

"You can very easily, kupo."

"That weapon is supposed to be held by the greatest mogknight, kupo."

She nodded very soberly. "Which is why I believe you deserve to wield this weapon more than any in my family ever have."

Isaac studied her face for any hint of joking or sarcasm. When he saw none, he reached his left paw forward uncertainly, fingers extended and shaking. He paused, pulling the paw back, and shook his head.

"I can't."

"Isaac." Lini stared hard at him. "If you don't take this blade, your friends will die along with who knows how many other people. Do you want that, kupo?"

Isaac's paw shot forward, grabbing the sheath and taking it up. In one easy movement, he swung it around his back so that the belt went from his left shoulder to his right hip. Then, he reached up and drew the weapon out in one clean movement.

He leaned forward suddenly, and they each grabbed for each other, his lips finding hers. They pressed their foreheads together and simply stood there in one, simple kiss for several moments. Then, Isaac pulled away, turned around, and took a deep breath.

"I'll help Maxwell, kupo. He should be up soon."

"Alright. Here it goes, kupo."

He jumped, his wings flared, and Isaac zoomed out of the Tower of Adrammalech, the vines and roots instantly turning to give chase.

---

The skin on Cheney's knuckles was beginning to tear, sending small drops of blood out into the air. However, these were all drawn back in to his arrow, the blood being pulled in along with everything else. It was quite odd. None of the remaining three Ultima users had ever seen much more than wind or dust actually accumulate on the arrow. However, this time, there seemed to be a small vortex of things swirling around the arrow's tip, masking it from sight. There were rocks and stones, small bits of debris, and even a few larger chunks flowing in.

The hunter's voice was raw from constant screaming, and his body was weak. It was clear that he was at his peak as he screamed, "It's ready!"

Pallanza instantly reached out his blade, touching the tip to the arrow's tip. A shudder ran through his body upon contact, but he held the weapon steady. The two warrior's eyes met, and then, as one, they nodded.

"Ultima!" Cheney growled, and energy incomprehensible ran from the string, down through the arrow, and into the blade's tip. The force of the vortex leaving him drew Cheney along with it for a few feet, sending his body flopping awkwardly forward across the street. It came to a stop, perfectly dead, face down on the opposite side.

Pallanza instantly bent over double, the blade's hilt audibly clattering in his hands. His clothing began tearing slightly, small bits of it flying off and joining the vortex as he began charging his first of four blasts of Ultima. He made no noise, but the pain was etched into every feature in his face.

Quin stood by, watching impassively. He slowly put the Zeus Mace down, and wiped his sweaty palm on the hem of his robe. He swallowed, then picked the weapon up again. His mind began going through all of the facts he'd read about controlling the Final Ultimatum. There were very few details, because the two or three times it had actually happened in history, only the first, and occasionally the second, carrier survived it. Nobody knew of the pressure that carrying fifteen Ultimas placed on a mortal's body or mind. Clearly, from the last display, it would begin causing physical damage to his body. He would probably be receiving otherwise fatal wounds somewhere in the middle of his pulses of Ultima, and would have to survive to pull off the remaining attacks on will alone.

Quin thought about this, his eyes lidded lightly, as Pallanza let out a small grunt and fired his first Ultima into the Materia Blade.

---

Eileen rushed up the stairs of the small building, panting heavily. She had very little of her own magic left, and she was still quite heavily wounded from her battle with Bartholemue. However, she figured that so long as she made it to the roof, she'd be able to at least buy some time for everybody else. Repelling the combined Meteor attacks of ten high-ranking Third Eyes would be quite a feat, even for the most powerful of mages. Still, she'd make do.

She stepped up to the door which led to the roof, and pushed it open. She came out onto the roof, and glanced around, finally getting a good view of the city.

The damage was incredible. Fires were everywhere, caused by accident by blasts of magic and knocked over torches and candles in houses. The smoke from these fires was rising up, blocking out the dim moonlight high above. The fire itself provided the only light; a ghostly, flickering orange colour which reflected off of the layer of smoke high above to make an apocalyptic vista above the ruined city.

Exodus itself had expanded quite extensively, now taking up a good portion of the heart of Sprohm. It had completely overrun the prison, and had begun cracking some of the walls of the imposing structure. Exodus had apparently decided to use the prison as a base of operations, because it had moved the large, bulbous core which housed Jacqueline into the centre of its ruins. There were several larger roots sticking up around it, prepared to fall and crush anybody who came close.

Much like the prison, every structure that Exodus's five kilometre diameter covered had been torn apart, leaving bits of building lying atop the mass. The only exception to this rule was the Tower of Adrammalech, which was poking up defiantly amongst the green. Oddly, there seemed to be a strange bare patch just outside of the Tower, with a large burn mark at its centre. However, she could see nothing in detail there, so she turned her attention back to where it was needed: the alchemists.

As she turned to face that building, across the square from her, she felt the power emanating from it building to a climax. She knew she had to act.

She reached up to her neck, and her hand closed around the crystal which she had stolen from Tarantalas so long ago. She ripped the thing from her neck, and glanced down at it. This time, the crystal was completely orange; it was filled to the brim. She had been storing a small amount of her energy everyday in the small artefact, and it had finally built up. This was all she had.

However, she'd have to be careful with it. Her power was still limited, and she didn't have the energy to simply overpower all of those spellcasters. They were probably pouring everything they had into those spells, and she couldn't beat that. Instead, she would have to control the energy, and use a little of it at a time to hold the meteor back. That was her only choice.

She reached down, and ran her hand along the open wound in her side. She flinched at the pain, and brought her hand back up. Blood dripped off of the fingers, staining the ground before her with her essence.

Eileen took a deep breath, and rubbed the blood over the crystal. As the first plumes of fire began appearing in the sky, she whispered, "_Alchemie_."

Power beyond her belief flowed into her, suddenly, and Eileen had to grab the wrist of her right hand with the other. She kept the right hand balled tightly into a fist, keeping the energy at bay. It was an incredibly difficult thing, though. The force made her hand feel as though it were being ripped in half from the effort of keeping it shut. Pain began building, but Eileen shook it off. She would have to control it if she wanted survival.

As the great mass of rock and fire finally dipped down below the smoke, Eileen pointed her hand up, shaping the magic in it as carefully as she could. Then, she opened the hand a bit.

She had to turn her head violently away as an orange light whose intensity was unmatched shot forth, spanning out into a great net of orange. She quickly clamped her hand shut again, and glanced back to the meteor.

Her blast of magic was spanning outward, just wide enough to take a good deal of the force of the meteor's power. The thing slowed as it pressed against the barrier, and, to those who used magic and understood its ways, there was a great grating and scratching on all of their nerves. Eileen pointed again, and let out another blast of magic as the first began falling to pieces.

This wave hit the meteor, this time actually pressing it back up a small bit. Eileen let a small grin of victory flash across her face at this, but it disappeared into a frown a moment later. The meteor had sliced straight through it, and was now gathering speed as it plummeted through the skies.

"Dammit," she muttered, pointing up and letting out another volley of magic. The energy of it smashed into the meteor, slowing it for but a moment before being torn apart.

Eileen cursed again, realising that it was becoming resistant to her attacks. There was no way that she'd be able to hold the thing back at this rate. They were all doomed if she kept this up.

Her mind began racing for another option as she forced out another shot of magic. Her eyes scanned the horizon, and then a terrible thought came to her.

She couldn't outright stop the meteor with her magic. However, perhaps she could knock it off course so that it didn't hit Exodus.

She considered this for a moment. She wouldn't be able to significantly change the direction, perhaps just knock it off a couple kilometres. She would have to choose a portion of the city for the meteor to go off in and explode.

The force would destroy anything in that vicinity without fail. She would have to pick a region that had already been evacuated to prevent as many casualties as possible. Naturally, not everybody would have fled, so...

A terrible spasm, both physical and mental, went through her, and she started breathing heavily in horror. What was she thinking of? Destroying that many people's lives, and probably killing several, just to save Jacqueline? Could she resolve herself to that.

She didn't have a chance. That was what she told herself. If the meteor collided with Exodus, everything would die. It was a sacrifice, for the greater good.

But would Isaac approve of that? She didn't understand why, but that thought was incredibly important in her mind. He would never accept that, would he?

Eileen glanced up at the rapidly falling meteor.

"There's a time to think like Isaac," she whispered, to reassure herself, "and there's a time to make painful decisions."

She looked towards the cityscape, and picked her target. A run-down area about three kilometres outside of the radius of Exodus. It would probably have been evacuated for the most part by now.

"Alright," she muttered, pointing her hand carefully. "Please forgive me."

She opened her hand fully.

---

Pallanza fell to his knees, his voice coming out in focused wheezes. There was blood dripping from his body in dozens of little rivulets from where patches of his skin had ripped off to join the swirling vortex which he held. The attack was clearly already killing him.

He had already unloaded his first three charges of Ultima, and was near the climax of his fourth.

Pallanza's voice came out as a weak rasp, hardly registering in Quin's ears.

"It'ssssssss ready."

Quin nodded very slowly, twirling the heavy mace around in his hands. The weapon shook in his grip as he brought it tentatively forward, until it touched against the Materia Blade.

A shock ran through both of them, sending chills up the back of their spines and unlocking parts of their minds that neither had ever used before. Their eyes went wide, and locked onto each other. Pallanza, his voice suddenly stronger, spoke.

"Are you truly prepared to do thisssss?"

"I am," Quin nodded, his face grim. "It's what it will take."

"You're far braver than I," Pallanza murmured. "I wish that I'd managed to know you better."

"Too late now, though."

"We shall meet on the other sssside."

They nodded as one.

"Ultima," Pallanza roared, his voice instantly pulling back into the great vortex of space around his blade's tip.

The energy slipped easily from one weapon to the next, finding the action easy and practised by now. As the energy faded from Pallanza, so did the light from his eyes. He felt his eyes fluttering, and his breath left his lungs for the last time. Pallanza hit the ground, not even moving, plain and simply dead.

Quin's eyes widened as the power hit him. It wasn't what he'd expected. It wasn't what the others had made it out to be. It didn't hurt. Yes, the pressure was intense, as was everything. But he didn't feel pain. He could just feel... everything. It was all there. All of creation, all of life. It was laid out before him, held in his hands.

He glanced down at himself, and realised that he'd already let out a blast of Ultima. Most of his robes had been torn away, swept into the great swirling vortex, and he could see that his skin was beginning to do the same. However, he didn't feel the pain as his blood started dripping out.

Quin, the archmage of Cadoan, closed his eyes for what would be the last time, and sent his second of five shots of Ultima into the Zeus Mace. Those two, the nu mou and the mace, were the only things holding back the greatest power in the world ever given to mortals.

---

Ben stiffened at a sound behind him, and spun, his sabres instantly coming out. However, his jaw dropped as he saw who it was.

"Marche?" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"

The Blue mage was perched on the edge of a toppled building just inside of Exodus' radius. He had crept there using all of his skill as a ninja, and now he simply waited for the Final Ultimatum to come. He had been sitting there with nothing to do, so he had had one of the most unobstructed views of everything that had been happening. He had seen the great dragon descending from the skies and blowing away part of the growth. He had seen the great flashes of orange from far off, and had been watching in awe the duel between the blinding orange light and the massive meteor falling from the sky. However, he had never expected to meet anybody here.

However, there, before him, stood a trio of very battle worn and unsteady travellers. One was Marche, his white cape ripped to shreds and a nasty cut running down his cheek. Beside him stood Babus, the same nu mou from earlier. There were stains all over his normally pristine white fur. His robes were torn in places, and it was clear from how his hands shook that he was very short on magic. Standing behind them was a man who, at first glance, seemed to be a normal judge who had removed his helmet. His hair, long and brown, was plastered against his head with sweat and grime.

"Ben," the paladin gasped, seeing a familiar face. "What's going on?"

"Where have the three of you been the past few hours?" Ben stared at them.

"You would not believe us if we told you," Babus muttered, coughing slightly.

"Try me. I mean, we've all been fighting against Jacqueline, who appears to have been infested by Exodus and is being used to give him power in this world."

The three exchanged glances, then Marche looked back to Ben. "Okay, you win. We got back from fighting Exodus in a rip, and it was chaos. We've been trying to get away from the prison since then."

"What measures has the palace been undertaking?" Babus asked, straightening his robes. "I should probably help."

"They've done nothing."

"What?"

"As of yet, they've done everything they can to hold us up from stopping this ourselves," Ben growled. "Besides, there's not much they could do. Any magic gets absorbed by this thing and makes it stronger."

The judge spoke then, and his voice cut through the anger and annoyance in Ben's tone and the confusion in Babus and Marche. It seemed to calm them even with its sound.

"You don't appear to be despairing, though," he observed, his eyes sharp despite his obvious fatigue. "What are you planning?"

Ben regarded him carefully for a short time, before muttering, "The three of you should get out of here. Things are going to get a whole lot crazier in a little while, and I can't guarantee that you'll survive."

The judge met his gaze and held it squarely for a good ten seconds or so. Then, he broke off.

"We should be far enough away from the prison to teleport now. Marche, I can bring you wherever you need to go. It appears as though this is out of our hands."

Babus opened his mouth to argue, but the judge's hand on his shoulder stopped his outburst. The judge simply shook his head curtly, and the nu mou nodded.

"Good. We'll leave you, then," the judge said. "I hope that you survive whatever you're planning."

"Thank you."

"Isn't there anything we could do to help?"

Ben opened his mouth to deny the paladin, but then a strange expression crossed his face. He seemed to think for a few seconds, and then a crooked grin came across his features.

"Yes, there is, actually."

"What?"

Ben reached down to his pants, torn as they were, and unclipped the small pin of the Blue mage which was fastened there. He held it up, and passed it to the paladin.

"Hold onto that for me."

"But doesn't this give you your magic, though?" he demanded. "Are you going to go in without it?"

Ben laughed, cracking his neck out. "Wrong. You see, that's what a lot of people think. The pin supplies the magic. But they're wrong. Blue magic consists of combining Black magic and White magic in a strategic way to alter parts of your body temporarily. Black magic, which introduces chaos into a system and warps nature, changes the body part as needed. White magic, which restores order and sets nature right, returns the body part to its original form. The problem is, using the two at once is quite a challenge. It's near impossible to control it correctly. That, combined with the wild nature of Blue magic, makes a dangerous combination. The pin is actually a focus for our magic, so that it comes out weaker and more controlled. It also ensures that equal parts White and Black magic get sent out."

Marche stared at him while digesting this information. Finally, he asked the question. "So what will happen by you giving me this?"

"It means that the next time you see me," Ben explained, "I won't be quite as human. Now, go."

They nodded, and stepped backwards. The judge clamped a hand down onto Marche's shoulder, and then, the three were gone, and Ben was alone.

Well, not quite alone.

"Alright, Topier," he growled, his voice suddenly sounding very different. "Come to me. Show me the darkness."

---

Around the city, people were noticing something. Amidst their great rush to escape the massive tree, there was an odd feeling passing through each person. It was a slight tremble, and an odd whistling of wind about them. Then, ever so slowly, the desert sands and any other tiny objects around them began moving.

At first, the movement was barely noticeable. However, not long after, slightly larger things started moving. Pebbles, and even some of the mid-sized stones about them. All of it began drifting and flowing, in a direction roughly the same as that to the great tree that they were all fleeing.

Anybody who happened to be passing by the city in an airship would have seen the cause. High above, one could notice the wind, wrapping itself into translucent chords and strands, wound through the streets and the air to wrap themselves at a single spot in the middle of a city street not far from Exodus's area. They brought with them anything that had been left behind and that the wind had had the power to carry. Around the street, all of the buildings which still stood were beginning to creak and lean in towards the centre of this vortex, preparing to let loose.

At the very middle of the vortex stood Quin. His eyes were still shut, the pupils unmoving beneath the thin lids. His stance hadn't changed all throughout the first three blasts of his Ultima, and now, with the fourth approaching its climax, he still stood strong.

However, that didn't mean that he looked peaceful. Not at all. His skin had torn off in several places, and his own blood swirled in the vortex with everything else around him. As he poured more of his magical self into the Ultima, more and more of his physical self went with it.

Even with his eyes closed, he could see and feel all that was happening in the city around him. He saw Lini bent over Maxwell's form, using her power to heal him as best as she could. Isaac was flapping and diving through the skies not far from the prison, avoiding the vines as he searched for a way in. Ben had thrown his head back as blue light flooded his form, twisting it and filling it with power. Eileen had dropped to one knee, but she still held her hand steady as she sent out an incredible pulse of orange light into the meteor.

A small smile passed his lips as he saw this. They were good. He knew that he could leave the world with them to watch after it. So long as he could help them with his passing, then that would be enough.

A shudder passed through his form, and Quin sent a fourth pulse of Ultima into his mace.

As soon as he did, the force of the vortex increased incredibly. Instantly, the nearby buildings fell to pieces, and these pieces joined the swirling. Quin's body began disappearing as it was drawn into the vortex as well. The features on his face began tightening, then, realising that this would be his test. He felt his arms weakening as they began coming apart and spinning away into the vortex.

He would _not _give in that easily.

Even as the flesh began disappearing, gold light exploded from the Sage, flowing to fill in the space. Soon, his hands were gone as well, but the light rushed forward and embraced the mace's handle, keeping it steady and feeding more of itself into it.

Quin lowered his head, knowing that if he was to do this, he would have to give up everything. All of his physical being would have to disappear, and he would have to focus solely on the magic.

So be it.

Even as that decision ran through his mind, all of Quin's remaining cells separated from each other, disappearing into the swirling vortex. In their place was simply a mass of golden light, with the mace levitating at its centre.

However, the gold light began fading fast as it flowed further and further into the mace. The more gold light disappeared, the greater the vortex became. As the energy built higher and higher, the gold light finally disappeared, but for a small fistful of it.

That small bit wrapped around the handle of the Zeus Mace, just as a hand might, and then flung it in the direction of Exodus just before being extinguished.

And, with that, the Final Ultimatum was released.


	70. The Sprohm Incident

Maxwell sat up violently, his eyes shooting open. He hopped up to his unsteady legs without hesitation, not even glancing at Lini. Both of them had forgotten about the other as they turned to stare in horrified fascination in the same direction. 

---

Eileen finally closed her hand, panting heavily as she watched the meteor crash down into the ground several kilometres away. She felt the impact beneath her feet, and the roar of sound. More than that, she felt the force as the shockwave ran through the air and ruffled her robes. However, she didn't notice this, nor did she think of the dozens of innocents she had no doubt just killed. Instead, she turned, staring towards Exodus.

---

Ben cracked his neck, and opened his mouth, a low growl exiting his throat. He went down to all fours, and stepped up to the side of the ruined building, waiting to spring. Suddenly, he felt it, and turned. His eyes, glowing blue with energy, widened.

---

Isaac twirled in midair, slashing out with the Materia Blade to knock a vine away. He was about to swing again to maybe dent the plant, when both it and he stopped moving, and he raised his eyes, staring as it closed in.

---

The Final Ultimatum roared down the long street, ripping apart buildings and tearing up the ground wherever it passed. Everything that was near got sucked into it, only adding to its incredible strength.

As it closed in on Exodus, the tree lifted up a quick barrier of small trees. Those plants had the strength to repel even dragonfire for some time, making it impossible to get in.

However, the Final Ultimatum simply smashed into it, and, not even slowing, absorbed the great barrier into itself, ripping the thing to pieces. It kept going after that, the barrier only seeming to have added to its power instead of slowing it down.

And, so, the Final Ultimatum flew along, ripping up the earth and the buildings around it, combining all of it into a single entity. It was throwing off waves of power which rippled through the entire city, and people could feel its presence for dozens of miles away. It just seemed that the entire universe had stopped to witness the birth of this force, and to watch, horrified, as it slammed into the bulk of Exodus.

The noise was so great as they collided, the force so powerful, the sight so incredible that for an instant there was nothing.

In short, there was silence.

All feeling stopped.

Everything turned white.

Nobody quite knew how to describe it. It seemed impossible, somehow. It was quite similar to everything just ceasing to exist for several moments, so that every individual was forced to live solely with themselves.

There were only a few people who recognized the feeling. Isaac, Eileen, Maxwell, Ben, and Jacqueline, wherever they were, suddenly took in sharp breaths, and wondered, for one instant, if they were going home.

Then, the emptiness filled with matter and existence, and everybody staggered slightly at the sudden magnitude of everything around them.

Four of them, however, only had time to wonder at this feeling for a moment. The next, each one jumped up.

---

Ben jumped from the rooftop, not even watching where he was going. Instead, he looked at the great cleft that had been carved into the side of the great cocoon which Exodus had erected about Jacqueline. He hit the ground on all fours, and started running as fast as he could. Blue light streaked from him as he ran, turning him into a comet of blue as he raced through the streets.

Soon, however, the roots and vines began growing up in front of him again, preparing to attack. They drew back carefully, waiting for him to approach so that they could whip forward and take him apart.

A small grin appeared in the corner of Ben's mouth, a fang poking out from beneath the lip. A challenge, eh? Alright.

They flew forward, and Ben jumped.

His hands wrapped around one vine even as it came at him, and he threw himself around it so that he crouched atop it. He dug his claws into it, and held on tight as the vine writhed in an effort to throw him off. He watched carefully from the corner of his eyes, waiting for the right moment.

Just as the other vines were coming in to knock him off from their partner, Ben simply pulled his claws out, then rolled off of the vine. He landed on his feet on the broken earth beneath him, and started running while the vines were still off-kilter from charging him.

For a few moments, he was running undisturbed. The path before him was clear to the former centre of the prison, where he knew he would find Jacqueline. The only sound was the pat of his bare feet, tipped with claws and only touching the ground on the balls, on the earth below. Ben slowly bent forward, going faster and faster, until his hands touched the earth as well, their claws digging into the earth. They threw him forward all the faster, and for some time, that was all he knew.

However, it didn't last long. There was a sudden crashing noise as the vines hit the ground behind him, rushing to chase after him. The blue mage growled beneath his breath, and tried to put on more speed. He glanced over his shoulder, and found that the vines were still a little distance behind him, maybe twenty metres. However, they were definitely moving faster than him.

Ben turned his gaze back to the core of Exodus, and his eyes widened in horror. Already, it was beginning to repair itself, sending vines and roots across to bridge the gap and block off Ben's path.

He shook his head, removing the thoughts, and instead kept his focus on his task. It wouldn't matter that the gap had sealed if these vines managed to rip him apart first. He looked behind his shoulder again, and saw that the vines were quickly narrowing the distance between them.

He looked at the path ahead, and made a few quick guesses in his head. Then, suddenly, he bolted sideways, almost at a right angle, and began running down a side street. The vines followed directly behind him, squeezing themselves through the tight path between the crumbling buildings. This slowed them somewhat, but nowhere near enough to let Ben relax at all. They were still moving faster than him, and he could almost feel their strands licking at his heels.

Ben put on another burst of speed, and kept running, ducking his head down and gasping air into his burning lungs. He glanced back up, and swore. Another mass of vines had pulled out from one of the side streets in front of him, and was now rushing at him. He glanced around, and veered off to the right.

He didn't even slow as he hit the door. He simply went up to two feet for a moment and slammed into it with his shoulder. Fortunately, the door wasn't terribly strong, so it gave way before him, snapping right off of its hinges. Ben spent but a moment to take in the house, and then found the stairs. He raced towards them, hoping that this house, like most of the others in Sprohm, had roof access.

It did. He went up another set of stairs and burst through a rooftop door. He glanced around, trying to find his bearings. He quickly caught sight of the main growth of Exodus off to his left slightly. Ben coughed a bit, and forced more blue light out of his body. His bones twisted somewhat, and his claws grew longer still. A growl, fully bestial, issued from his throat, and he took off towards Exodus, leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

It took a few moments for the Exodus vines to find out where their prey had gone. However, once they realised what he'd done, Ben heard a great crashing noise behind him. He risked a look over his shoulder, and stared in horror, still running, as house after house behind him began falling in great clouds of dust.

Ben swallowed, and forced himself to turn his attention back to where he was going. It was taking all of his power just to keep himself from losing his mind to both the fear and the magic. Truly, all of the sheer animal energy running through his veins was quickly making him lose himself.

When Ben was no more than a hundred metres from the main growth of Exodus, he put much less force into one of the jumps across the rooftops, and went down an alley between two houses. He touched against the opposite wall on all fours, and dodged back, hitting the wall on all fours again. Then, he leaped to the ground, and kept running, coming out of the alley and around the corner. He glanced behind himself, and was happy to note that the vines and roots were still some distance away. He should be able to make it to Jacqueline now, with a little time to spare at least.

He turned his attention forward, and his eyes widened. Before him, it looked like a wall was rolling over the ground towards him. It took Ben's mind a moment to understand this, and then he swore. Exodus was sending one of its central roots at him. The thing must have been about his own height and over a half again.

Fine, then. It was time to dance some more.

As it rushed in at him, Ben took a deep breath, and lowered his centre of gravity to his feet. His eyes narrowed. This was the last barrier between himself and Jacqueline.

Just as the root was about to crush him, Ben jumped, snapping his legs out straight. The force with which he pushed off sent spikes of pain up into his knees, but Ben barely even felt it. He was too busy digging his claws into the root, about two feet from the top of the root. He heaved himself up, flinging his lower body up and sideways. Once his legs had gone past the horizontal point, Ben released his claws from the root, and let his momentum take over.

Ben went up, and the root went by.

The ninja landed heavily in a crouch on the other side of the root. He stood, cricked his neck, and glanced about to make sure.

He stood at a broken wall which had stood around the prison before it was torn apart. He glanced down the wall, and saw that, a few dozen metres away, the vines were creeping along the wall, apparently using it as a brace for the new defence.

"Okay," he muttered. He closed his eyes, and, slowly, the red fur which had sprouted sporadically over his body pulled back in. His back and hands cracked, making small spasmodic movements as they changed orientation from digitigrade to plantigrade movement. He opened his eyes, and blinked several times as his eyes stopped glowing. He breathed deep, and, just to be sure, he ran his hands through his hair. He stopped suddenly, realising that some of the strands were softer than usual.

If he could have seen, he would have noticed that his hair was now as much red as it was brown, the two colours mixing in strands and tufts to give his hair and oddly russet colour.

He pulled his hands out of his hair, and shook them out. It didn't matter. He had work to do.

Ben stepped forward, and hopped over the hole in the wall, and began walking forward. It was odd. It seemed as though Exodus had decided to protect Jacqueline beyond a certain point. There were no vines; no roots; no masses of vegetation trying to obliterate him. It was just... there. Very strange.

Ben looked around the ruined prison grounds, eyes widening as he took in the walls. They looked more like unified... green. Yes, that was it. He looked up, and saw the great dome it made as shoots of foliage and vines met in a perfect arc.

It was beautiful, in its own alien way. It reminded Ben of the time he had spent in the Koringwood so long ago.

Had it really been that long, though? How long could he and his friends have been in Ivalice? As he calculated up the days and months in his mind, Ben's eyes widened slightly. A year and a half already. To tell the truth, thinking back to St Ivalice, he couldn't remember much. Of course, there were specific memories of being with his friends, but that was about it. He was forgetting the street names, and the route he used to walk to school, and where Jacqueline's house was...

"Jacqueline," he murmured. Then, he shook his head, and started walking closer to the centre of the old prison grounds. Even as he did, he heard the first crash of thunder from outside of the dome. He turned, glancing through the small open space that was left in Exodus's cocoon. He watched as several fat drops of water fell, and then suddenly there was a full torrential downpour coming from the sky. Light flashed across the small opening, and thunder roared again.

The noise was so loud that Ben almost didn't hear the sound behind him. Fortunately, working both as a ninja in the streets and a Blue mage in the forest, he'd been trained to pick up small noises amongst larger ones. So, Ben managed to throw himself into a sloppy cartwheel, his hands slipping slightly on the cracked cobblestones, and avoided the sword stabbing through the empty space he had inhabited a moment before. Ben came up to his feet, and turned, staring at Jacqueline.

She looked different. Naturally, nothing had touched her since Exodus had taken its hold on her. Her clothing and hair was all pristine, and her skin showed no soot marks or scratches. Her long, thin rapier was clasped loosely in her right hand as it ever was, the left hand dangling easily behind her.

The difference was in her eyes. They looked at him, but it was as though they didn't register his existence. Instead, they just peered on through, showing no emotion. Her mouth was a thin line, and her face wasn't creased with any emotion. She was blank; an unfeeling doll.

"Jacqueline?" Ben asked.

In response, her left hand jabbed forward, lightning shooting from it. Ben, more from his shock than any real skill, slipped over backwards. The lightning passed just over him, and the Blue mage could feel the heat radiating through the air.

Ben turned quickly, placing his hands on the ground pushing himself up to his feet. He stared at Jacqueline, but then had to kick off backwards from the earth as she lunged recklessly at him.

"What are you doing?"

She didn't respond, simply taking another step forward and slashing at him. Ben's sabres came out, and he blocked the attack with his left hand weapon.

Ben cried out in pain, and his sabre flew across the abandoned prison grounds. The force of her attack had ripped the weapon from his grasp. He glanced down at his hand, and instantly knew that the wrist had snapped.

Ben turned his gaze back to Jacqueline, just in time to see the rapier slashing out at his face. He scrunched his eyes up tight, realising that he couldn't dodge this.

At that moment, an odd look crossed Jacqueline's face; one of surprise and horror. She realised what she was doing, and turned her weapon slightly.

Ben was surprised when the flat of the weapon slapped him in the side of the face. Instead of cleaving through and slicing his head in half, the attack tore a long red line along his cheek and threw him into the prison wall. He slammed hard into the stone and the vines, and all air flew from his lungs.

He dropped down from the wall, landing shakily on his feet. He glanced up at Jacqueline, still gasping to get his air back.

She was bent over double, her hands clamped around her head. Occasionally, a sudden tremor would rock her body, but besides that she was still. The rapier lay forgotten at her feet, a small trail of blood still on it from where it had cut Ben.

"Jacqueline..."

The viera looked up upon hearing her name, and her eyes locked on Ben. She took several deep breaths, and then shook her head slowly.

"You 'ave to get away..."

"I can't." Ben knew he probably wouldn't get another chance at this. He had to break her from Exodus's control now. "I have to help you."

"You can't 'elp me this time!" she yelled at him. "I'll kill you if you stay."

"I won't let you do that."

"There's only one way you can stop this thing," she growled at him. The focus that had returned to her eyes was fading, slowly dulling down again.

"Yes, I have to break you away from Exodus!"

"That won't stop it," she shook her head. Her hands began shaking, and she glanced down at them as they flexed. She looked back up at him, and said, more urgency in her voice this time, "You 'ave to stop me!"

"I will! I promise." Ben straightened his back, gasping in pain, and raised his remaining sabre. "But I won't let it kill you."

"That won't _work_!" she roared at him, and, suddenly, her foot flew out. It hooked under the hilt of her rapier, and kicked the weapon upwards. Jacqueline reached forward and plucked it out of the air, already in midstride running towards Ben.

Ben took a step back, horrified by her intensity. As soon as he did, he realised his mistake. His back came flush against the wall of the prison and the vein covered vines which entwined it. Those vines instantly flashed out and wrapped around Ben, grabbing his limbs and yanking them backwards. He found himself plastered against the wall, completely unable to move.

The two of them were about twenty metres apart when Isaac catapulted through the small hole in the cocoon, his blade still swinging from batting away vines. His fur was dripping rainwater liberally, and he was limping heavily whenever he took a step.

He landed, and his eyes took in the situation in a heartbeat.

Ben was tied to the wall.

Jacqueline was running at him with her rapier.

After that, it was all instinct.

He rushed forward, covering the distance between himself and Ben. He arrived an instant before Jacqueline did. Neither Ben nor Jacqueline had noticed him yet, focused as they were on each other.

So, it was an easy thing for Isaac to slip his blade in past Jacqueline's rapier and between her ribs.

There was silence. Out of the three of them, none moved. They were all simply standing there, transfixed by the strange situation laid out before them. Not one of them really understood it; they all just assumed it was a picture put up to look at in an art show. It was tragic and powerful, but it wasn't real.

At once, all of the growths of Exodus shuddered. They began spasming as one unified body, flailing about dangerous. Buildings were toppled and crushed by the force of the movement, and a few more lives were suddenly extinguished by the unexpected action.

Then, without a sound, Exodus disappeared. One instant it was there, towering over Sprohm's ruins and laying down a path of destruction. The next, it was gone as though it had never been.

It was at this point that the three of them finally moved. Ben dropped to the ground, no longer supported by Exodus's vines. He hit hard and stumbled forward, staring. Isaac paw began shaking on the hilt of the Materia Blade, and his eyes were wide and locked upon Jacqueline's.

Jacqueline's body went limp, and slumped forward as the rain, previously held back by Exodus, crashed in on them.

Isaac pulled his blade out, stumbling backwards in horror. At the same time, Ben ran up and caught the body, lowering it down to the ground carefully. He didn't scream. He didn't cry. He reached for her wrist, feeling for a pulse. Then, his hand went to her neck instead, trying to find a beat there.

Isaac watched this, then glanced down at himself. He was surprised to find that he was covered in red splotches. He stared dumbly down at this for a moment, before realising what it was.

He took a step back and tripped, falling hard into a sitting position. The Materia Blade hit the ground and remained there. He looked at it and shook his head, not accepting the blood-stained weapon as fact.

Ben finally took his hand away from Jacqueline's neck and, his hands shaking now, carefully parted the torn fabric to look at the wound in her chest. As soon as he saw it, he pushed the fabric back down, and lowered his head down so that it was pressed against her forehead.

He remained like that for about a minute. Then, slowly, he lifted his head up, and, not even looking at Isaac, muttered, "You killed her."

"Kupopo?" Isaac looked up, not quite understanding.

"You killed Jacqueline," Ben whispered.

Isaac opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out.

"You're supposed to be the pacifist. You're the one who couldn't kill a serial murderer if you caught him in the act. And you decide instead to kill one of your best friends?"

"I..." he shook his head. "I didn't have a choice, she wa—"

"I don't care."

"Ben, I'm sorry," he babbled dumbly. "I'm sorry, I—"

"Shut up!"

Ben's foot flew out and caught Isaac in the chin. The moogle rolled backwards, grabbing his face with his good paw and crying out. A moment later, something hit the ground next to him, and he heard Ben yelling over the sound of the rain.

"Pick up your blade!"

Isaac pulled his paw away from his face, his own blood now running from his nose. He stared at the Materia Blade, lying beside him in the mud.

"Pick up your blade and fight me!"

Isaac looked up, and found Ben staring down at him with his sabre in his hand.

"I won't fight you, Ben."

"Then I'll murder you. I'll cut you open just like you did to Jacqueline!" Ben raised his sabre in his hand.

Isaac grabbed the blade's hilt and rolled out of the way through the mud. He stood back up, and blocked an attack from Ben along its length. Both of them stared at their weapons as the dull noise resonated. Isaac's block had been as weak as Ben's attack.

However, that didn't stop the Blue mage from taking another swipe. Isaac hopped back, stumbling on his feet. The managed to remain standing, though, and blocked another chop.

Ben backed him up, step after agonizing step. As Isaac's blade passed through the air, small flecks of blood would drip from it, falling to the ground. Every time that Isaac raised the weapon and blocked, more drops would be shaken from it to fall into his fur.

Isaac felt something pressing against the back of his legs, and tripped backwards over it. He fell, somersaulting backwards over the pile of rubble which remained of the wall of the prison. He finished hard on his back, clenching his eyes in pain.

Ben yelled something which Isaac didn't hear over the rain, and Isaac looked around for his blade. He found it, and reached out for the hilt.

His right paw flapped uselessly against the handle, and his eyes widened as Ben jumped at him.

Isaac glanced back at Ben, but wasn't looking at him. Instead, he was looking through and beyond him into the sky.

Ben's sabre came down.

Metal rang on metal, and a voice roared, "Isaac, get up!"

Isaac blinked rainwater from his eyes, and stared. Maxwell had blocked the attack on his spear, and was holding the mage back. They stood there for an instant, then Maxwell shoved forward with his spear. Ben stumbled back, and Maxwell followed him, staying between him and Isaac. He glanced around the ruined courtyard, and that's when Maxwell's eyes fell on Jacqueline.

His eyes widened, and he stared back at Isaac. He saw the blood, beginning to wash away in the rain, marking his blade.

Ben came back, and Maxwell blocked the attack again.

"Let me through!"

"Isaac, get up and run!"

The moogle pushed himself up to his feet very slowly, staring at his two friends. He picked up the Materia Blade and stared at it.

"Issssaac!" Maxwell screamed at him. The moogle glanced up suddenly, as though noticing him for the first time. "Ben will kill you if you stay! Run, please, just run!"

And Isaac turned on his heel and ran off with the sounds of Maxwell and Ben's weapons clashing, and disappeared into the darkness of the night.

---

A/N: I should also mention: this isn't the last chapter of Casualties. Heck no. We still got a while to go.


	71. Three Years

"I just want one chance to speak with him, kupo."

"The palace is already on to us here. Look, we've waited as long as possible, but there have been no attacks and no sightings of him. We can't afford to wait any longer."

"He's the only chance we have of getting them together again, and you know it, kupo."

"I still don't understand what's so essential about reuniting them. As far as I can tell, it may be more dangerous to do so."

"You've all heard Eileen's findings, kupo! We can't afford to _not_ have them with us, especially considering who we're up against."

"They don't want to be brought back together, Lini. You shouldn't meddle in their affairs."

"I know them. Some of you know them, too. They're some of the best, and, most importantly, they're closer than any other people in Ivalice, history or no. If I can get one chance, I swear that I can bring them over to our side."

"But how do we know when he'll show up? The ship was supposed to be here days ago."

"Let me stay behind a few days more. I promise, kupo, I won't take any stupid risks, and then I'll meet up with you back in Cadoan."

"...alright. Do it. But for now, we all need to move out. If you get caught, you know that we can't spare anybody for a rescue mission."

"Of course. Thank you, kupo."

With that, all of the commanders of Clan Nutsy stood up from the table and set about to their respective tasks. Lini, however, seated at one head of the table, simply turned around and walked out of the dimly lit room. She pulled herself up to the small hole which was the door, crawled through the fabric which hung over it, and then she was behind the bar in the pub. She glanced up to an elderly moogle who was polishing glasses, and nodded. The moogle, winking back to her, put his mug down, and picked up a large crate filled with dirty ones. He lumbered over to a door which lead back into the kitchen, and pushed it open with his back. He waited a moment as she crawled through the door, and then went through himself.

Lini nodded to him again, and then stepped out of the pub through the kitchen entrance. She hopped over a puddle on the ground, and began walking carefully down the back alley towards the street. She made sure to step along the edges so that her feet wouldn't get wet. It was best to keep quiet in case a passing guard from the palace heard. If she got everybody caught before they even left, _then_ she'd be in trouble.

She reached a point on the wall, and grabbed onto an errant brick which stuck out further than the rest. She heaved herself up, and quickly found several more hand- and footholds for herself. She scaled the building, going up all three of the floors until she stood on the roof.

Then, she found a stable spot, laid back, and stared up at the moon.

She was undisturbed by the sounds of Clan Nutsy sneaking out of the pub below. Once or twice, she heard a chocobo warbling as it was led out of the stable hidden around back. However, beyond this, there was nothing. She heard the clanking of weapons being passed out, and then the creaking as the wagons rolled out. She sighed slowly, and leaned forward to look 

over the edge of the roof. All she saw was a pair of wagons rolling out, the golden emblem of the palace emblazoned upon its side. Beside them walked about ten warriors, each one wearing the red and white robes of the palace guard.

She grinned. They were good. They'd definitely learned a lot in the past while. No more did Clan Nutsy simply walk into a problem and tear apart any opposition. They were subtle and secretive now. Many of them were probably powerful enough to take on an entire unit of palace guard on their own, as proven on many occasions when that exact situation had taken place. Most of the clan believed that they were now strong enough to take on the palace.

Lini knew different, and, though she'd never asked, she knew that Marche and Montblanc felt the same. They were powerful, yes, but they were scattered and unorganised. Also, their numbers were nowhere near strong enough. Nobody could deny that Nutsy would have no problem winning a battle, but waging a war was quite a different matter. They needed far more people to back them up.

That was her current responsibility. Lini had come up with quite a good plan for it, too. However, it hadn't been working quite as well as she'd hoped. They were currently in Baguba Port in an attempt to kick start one of her plans, but the Palace's hold on the port city was incredibly tight. They couldn't stay there long and hope to go unnoticed.

A single moogle in Baguba Port, though? That was just another drop in the ocean. So long as she wasn't forced to draw her blade, then she would blend in easily enough.

She laid out there for perhaps an hour, the darkness of the night leaning in around her. The only thing which kept her from being completely concealed by the blackness was the full moon high above. It gazed down upon her, keeping her safe.

Her eyes flicked open suddenly as the dim light coming in through her eyelids dimmed slightly she. She looked upwards, and a smile spread across her lips.

High above the city, silhouetted by the moon, was an airship. It looked to be a full battleship, and even at that height, Lini could make out the black flag which flew above its central mast.

Pirates. How perfect.

She hopped down from the roof, landing easily on her feet in the street below. A moment later, a magically enhanced voice was ringing out through the streets of Baguba Port.

"There has been a pirate sighting! Please, remain calm and proceed to shelters. Palace officials will have the situation under control very quickly. We repeat, remain calm."

Lini took off down the street at a run, her feet smacking against the earth as she followed a very deliberate route through the streets. Fortunately, with the looming attack, even the few residents brave enough to wander the streets at night had retreated back to their homes for shelter. The few soldiers she saw didn't even notice her, too busy as they were with preparing for the battle.

Soon, Lini was standing just outside of the square which surrounded the central dock of Port Baguba. The great tower was a hub of activity, filled with soldiers preparing to send off 

airships and do battle. All she would have to do was hop onto one of those ships and wait. If he was in the area, there was no way that he could resist this.

With that, Lini ducked her head down, pulled her cloak so that it covered up her blade as much as possible, and began walking purposefully forward.

She crossed the square easily enough. Once or twice, a soldier glanced over to her. However, she would simply nod to them, and they would nod back and get back to work. Her face, held firm and neutral to help her disguise, cracked into a smile as she stepped by a spot where the cobble stones were shattered and scattered in a small spot. Then, she reached the tower, and began climbing.

She went around the outside, figuring that it would be more difficult to see her features if she was in the darkness of the night. She went up and up, occasionally glancing to the airship already in the sky high above. It was dropping lower; a few more feet, and the city's taller buildings would be within firing range. Lini glanced around the skies, wondering what was taking so long.

She turned her attention back to her own task, and casually reached out to help a soldier carrying a large crate.

"Let me help you with that, kupo."

"Thanks," the human nodded quickly, gasping as some of the weight was removed from him. "I don't think I would have managed."

"Why don't you go and rest?" she suggested, nodding towards an empty spot on the stairs. "I'll take this one for you, kupo."

"Can you handle it?"

Lini grinned, and lifted the crate up and out of the human's hands without even batting an eyelid. The human stared at her for a moment, then shrugged and nodded his thanks to her.

Lini turned around and started heading back up the stairs with the crate, being careful not to draw any more attention to her. Finally, she came level with one of the ships, and placed the crate next to a few others which were on the side of the dock. Then, while nobody was looking, she cracked off the top of the crate, and hopped in, pulling the top back over.

She lay there, waiting. Not too long after, she felt the box shudder, and then there was an uneven rocking. Finally, there was a clunk and a sudden shock, and all was silent for a little time.

Lini tapped her finger on her leg several times, beginning to lose patience. If he didn't show up soon, then the attack would probably be a success. So many people would end up dying—

Oh, wait. A sad grin crossed her face. That's why he _had_ to show up.

As if on cue, a call came up muffled outside the box. There were dozens of voices, but all of them had the same few words.

"There it is!"

"They're engaging the pirates?"

"_The Red Flash_!"

"There's no way that they can take them on alone."

"It doesn't matter, both of them need to be dealt with. We're launching immediately!"

The sounds of battle began drifting down to Lini's cramped and dark position, telling her that the battle in the skies had begun. The roaring of magic and the ringing of metal was soon filling the night skies. Then, there was a jerk, and Lini knew that they were in the air.

She settled her breathing, and waited. It would probably take less than a minute for them to reach the battle. From what Lini had heard, though, that would probably be enough time for it to be over. Just so long as they hadn't escaped yet...

The time went by agonizingly slow. The sounds of battle became gradually louder and louder, and soon voices could be heard, too. There were voices yelling battle cries and screams of pain. However, there was one voice, above all, which could be heard.

Soon, though, the voices grew dimmer, and the noises died down. Lini realised with a sick feeling in her stomach that the battle was nearing completion. They hadn't been fast enough. She'd missed her chance. But maybe if she could get out and jump...

"We are now within firing range!" a voice yelled. "We will launch our first volley in five..."

Lini's mind moved fast, and she understood what this meant. Quickly, she stood up, knocking the top of the crate off. She hopped out easily onto the deck, and took a quick look around.

The ship was about mid-sized for a palace airship. The crates where she had been hiding were all arranged on the sides of the ship, up against the barristers and pushed against the wall of the poop deck. Standing on one edge of the ship were several dozen archers and a few mages, all of them preparing to fire. Behind them was a human, clearly their leader, wielding a sword and counting down. Lini glanced up to the poop deck, and saw that several bangaas and humans wielding swords and such were assembled there, waiting for a chance to board.

Deciding that subtlety wasn't the best approach in this situation, Lini stepped forward until she stood right next to the captain of the ship, surveying the ship they were approaching. It was large; far larger than the ship she was currently on. She looked it up and down, but couldn't tell much about it. Lini had never really been an expert on airships.

There was a good deal of action on board this ship; the crew members were milling around, recovering from the battle they had just finished whilst preparing for another.

"...two..."

"Excuse me, kupo."

The captain started, and stared down at the moogle standing next to him. He took a step back in surprise, then cleared his throat and stood up straight again.

"Who are you?"

"Nobody. I just thought that you might not want to attack that ship."

"...what?"

"You really don't stand a chance against them, kupo."

The captain simply shook his head and stared at her in incredulity. Finally, he muttered, "Why are you on my ship?"

"I need to get onto _the Red Flash_ for personal reasons, and you are helping me."

He glared at her, and raised his sword, calling out to his crew. "Attack the moogle!"

Even as he brought his sword up for the downward swing, Lini was moving. She sidestepped out of the way of the blow, and her paw flew down to the hilt at her left hip. The weapon came out and flashed red, slashing across.

The captain cried out and fell, blood pouring from a gaping wound in his side. He looked down at the blood quickly pooling across the ship's deck, and then up to the moogle holding the red blade in a steady hand. He managed to gasp.

"You're..."

"Lini the Mogknight, kupo," she whispered, nodding to him. "For your sake, I hope there's a judge present."

Not saying another word, Lini twirled around, her blade flashing out to intercept an arrow coming at her exposed back. From then on, she was a cycle of nonstop movement; she walked relentlessly forward as the blade wove a path of red around her. Dozens of arrows came in at Lini from the frightened archers, but all of them were stopped. Some of the soldiers, faster than the others, began jumping down from the poop deck and rushing her. However, even as they closed, Lini twirled and slashed. In that one movement, she cut down two opponents.

Like this, she cut a path to the railing which surrounded the ship, where she hopped up and stood balancing on this perch. She looked down at the crew, now fully assembled, advancing upon her apparently vulnerable position.

Lini glanced over her shoulder, checking to see how far _the Red Flash_ was from her. It looked to be about eight metres, but that was wavering all of the time with the two crafts' movements.

The mogknight sheathed her blade, and, in the same movement, her paw went to the hilt of the weapon sheathed right next to that one. She drew it out, and now blue shone in her paw.

She glanced back to the crew of the ship she had just attacked, and couldn't help letting out one last jab.

"I apologize for any inconvenience I've caused!"

With that, she turned to the gap between the two ships and jumped.

Even with her wings, it should have been impossible for her to make that jump. It was too far and the winds were too strong. However, barely even flapping her bat-like wings, Lini crossed the distance between the two ships easily. She soared through the air, not faltering a bit, and crossed over the banister of _the Red Flash_. She landed easily in a crouch on the deck, and there she remained for a moment, taking a few deep breaths.

Then, she stood up slowly, sheathing her blade and looking around her at a second surprised crew. Oddly, she didn't know what to say. Up until then, she'd been working off of a mixture of well thought out plans and pure instinct. She'd never actually considered what she would do once she got onto the ship. She opened her mouth once, and closed it again, thinking.

"Lini the Mogknight."

The voice was familiar to Lini; however, at the same time, it seemed foreign. It was deeper than the last time she'd heard it, and filled with authority. She turned towards its source, and small smile cracked her lips.

"Isaac," she muttered.

A small circle opened around the two moogles, letting the two of them size each other up. Neither of them moved, simply looking at each other.

Isaac was still short. For some reason, that was the first thing that Lini noticed. He had grown, yes, but not that much. He wore a long brown cloak, the right sleeve of which was longer than the left. There was a single thick belt wrapped from his left hip up to his right shoulder, and protruding from just above the shoulder was the hilt of a blade. His ears were pulled back against his head by a black bandanna.

"Mr Bejar, kupo!" Isaac called out, turning away from Lini suddenly and looking towards a human in a dirty blue cloak and a tall yellow hat. The Black mage nodded to him, surprised.

"Aye, sir?"

"Deal with the enemy ship, please. Aim for the base of the mast please. Once that's done, I want Katherine to get us out of here. Did you hear that, Ms Calder?" A viera with a greatbow strapped to her back nodded. "Then return to normal business, kupo. I'm going to my courters and am not to be disturbed. That's an order, kupo. Understood?"

All of the assembled crew, looking to number maybe forty in all, called out, "Yes sir!" Then, they all began moving at the same time. The Black mage Isaac had called to rushed to the side of the ship, his face completely shadowed by his large hat. Only his glowing yellow eyes could be seen as he called out, "_Feueraga_!"

Flames exploded from his gloved hands, roaring across the distance between the two ships. A cry went up from the other ship, but they couldn't do anything about it. The flames quickly caught upon the lacquered deck and spread up to the mast, engulfing it.

The crew of _the Red Flash_ watched the light for a few moments, mesmerized. However, they were interrupted as Isaac's voice rang out.

"Need I remind you that there are a few dozen ships down there preparing to fly up and attack, kupo?"

Instantly, the crew hopped up and started moving, rushing all over the place. People began calling out orders, and soon, the ship was moving very quickly through the skies and away from the dock in Baguba.

Lini watched all this, feeling more than a bit impressed by how precise and skilled the crew was. However, when she glanced over to Isaac, she saw that he was already heading towards the staircase leading down into the ship's body.

She followed him, trying to keep up with the moogle. He walked with his head down, not even looking up at the people he passed. When the two of them went below ship, he walked very purposefully towards a door near to the staircase. He pushed it open, and held it for Lini as she walked in, before closing it again.

There were a few moments of darkness as Isaac fiddled with something. Then, a light came up in the room, radiating from a small globe in Isaac's paw. He held it for a moment to make sure it was working, then placed the thing on a desk in the middle of the small room.

Finally, he turned to face Lini, staring her up and down.

However, once again, neither of them said anything. They simply stared at each other. At this proximity and in the better light, Lini could see a few more details of Isaac's person. His brown fur was longer, and had turned slightly lighter, as was normal amongst unusual-coloured moogles when they matured. There were many small scars which were barely visible beneath his fur, all of them leaving a small lighter line in the pelt. The small bit of extra fat which had been on his body had burned away, being replaced by lean muscle.

"I'll assume you didn't go through all of the trouble of getting on my ship just to stare at me, kupo," he muttered, breaking her concentration on his appearance. She glanced back up to his face, and was surprised to find that his face looked almost... annoyed. "So what is it that you want?"

"I never would have expected that from you, Isaac," Lini muttered, raising her eyebrows slightly. "I thought that I had beaten some manners into you, kupo."

The brown moogle sighed, shaking his head. "Just tell me what you need to say and then we can drop you off at the nearest port. I can guarantee you, though, I'm not interested."

Lini shrugged. "I'll be frank then. Clan Nutsy asks for your aid."

Isaac raised one eyebrow, a mocking smile coming to his face. "Really?"

"Don't act like that, kupo."

"Oh, I apologize. Should I be honoured that the great Marche Radiuju decided to grace me with an offer in the clan?"

Lini glared at him. "I take that as a no, then."

"Yeah, I'd do that, kupo." Isaac turned away from Lini and began pulling off his equipment, laying it out on a small table in one corner of the room. As she watched, she saw that the Materia Blade had some sort of odd contraption attached at its base and extending halfway up the length. Her attention was drawn back to Isaac as he continued speaking. "There's a reason why I only dock as infrequently as is possible."

"Escapism?" The mogknight shook her head, a mocking chuckle coming from her mouth. "You choose to fly off with your crew in your airship and not face your problems? Well, aren't you the hero."

Isaac rounded on her, his eyes as sharp as ever. "That's exactly it, though. I'm _not_ a hero. In fact, I try to remove myself from heroism whenever I can."

"That's what you say," Lini nodded. "Your record, however, speaks differently."

"My 'record'?"

Lini nodded. "They tell stories about you at many of the pubs in Baguba these days. Well, when the palace guards aren't there, anyways. Quite impressive. Over one hundred ships to _the Red Flash_'s name since you became captain, and only one kill. They also say that you banned the crewmember who was responsible for that kill the moment you got to the next port."

"He was a hothead anyway," Isaac shrugged. He finished pulling off his cloak, and, for the first time, Lini got to see his right paw. It was still pink and furless, and the fingers bent out at odd angles. Isaac followed Lini's gaze down to his paw, and quickly turned away, reaching for something on the equipment table. He pulled on the leather glove and attached it tightly, then shook the ruined limb out.

"There are more rumours," Lini remarked, choosing not to comment on this action.

"Probably just rumours, kupo. Let's hear a few."

"They say that you took on three ships at once on your own."

"Very normal thing to do in the skies, kupo."

"No, I mean not with your crew, kupo. As in you, a single moogle, took down three ships."

"...ah," Isaac muttered, tapping his head softly.

"Just a rumour?" Lini asked.

"Yeah, kupo. It was just one."

Lini nodded slowly, and guessed that it had been two. She didn't voice this, though. Instead, she said, "You know, you don't have to act so badly to me, kupo."

Isaac stepped around the desk in the centre of the room and sat down heavily in a chair. A sigh escaped his lips, and he glanced up at her. "Look, Lini, I'm sorry. But I'm not the same person that I was. I've put all of that behind me, just like the others probably have."

"If you've put all of it behind you then why are you afraid to stay on solid earth for more than three days at a time?"

Isaac sighed again, this time in annoyance, and reached up to rub his forehead with his left paw. He looked up at her, and gestured towards a chair. "Take a seat."

"I won't be staying long," Lini said, shrugging. "I more or less came to offer you a place. However, it seems like you don't want anything to do with the ground anymore."

Isaac gave her a very critical eye, and then muttered, "Right, kupo. I'm to expect that that's the only reason you came up here? What do you want?"

"I want to reunite the four of you, kupo."

Isaac didn't move for a while after this. He simply sat there, his eyes wide and staring at her. His face was impossible to read, but for one emotion: shock. Lini looked down upon him, nodding slowly and getting comfortable.

"...what?"

"You heard me. I'm getting the four of you back together."

"But..." Isaac was at a loss for words. "It's been three bloody years, Lini! I doubt that they even want to see me anymore!"

"Eileen and Maxwell have been trying to find you for the past few years," Lini informed him, grinning at the surprise on his face. "Whenever they aren't busy with their work, that is."

"And Ben?"

"Are you kidding?" Lini snorted. "Even _I_ can't get info on him, kupo. Way too secretive."

However, Isaac was already shaking his head again. "This won't work, Lini. I can't go back and face them. I'm not ready, yet."

"And when will you be ready, kupo? You've had three years to sulk in the skies. You'll never try to see any of them again at this rate."

"And that would be a bad thing, kupo?"

"Whether you like it or not, Isaac, the four of you are going to be playing a very major role in this war. At times like these, the greatest inevitably get drawn out to battle. You've been helping out up here. You've taken down at least thirty palace airships, kupo, and you keep the people safe from pirate attacks. However, far more than that, you're becoming a symbol. There are some people who look at you as their only beacon of hope. But you could do so much more on the ground. Besides, everything is beginning to wind down. You must realise that?"

"Are you joking?" Isaac laughed. "Clan Nutsy has done next to nothing. Yes, the occasional scuffles and standoffs, but that's it. The war can't be ending if it hasn't even started yet, kupo?"

"There's more goi—"

"Look." Isaac shook his head. "You didn't come here to discuss politics, kupo. You came here on a pity mission, one which you've failed. I don't want to talk about this, and that's it."

Lini stared at him for some time after this, not sure what to make of it. Finally, she sighed, and reached down to the silver hilt of her blade. She drew the weapon out, and then placed it carefully on the desk at which Isaac sat.

The moogle eyed the sword. "What do you want me to do with this, kupo?"

"It's yours. I've just been holding onto it for you the past couple years, kupo." She turned around and walked to the door, glancing over her shoulder at Isaac. "I'll meet you at _the Golden Gil_ tomorrow morning."

Isaac stared at her, lowered his eyes down to the blade, and then stared at her again.  
"Are you joking, kupo?"

"We both know that you're going to show up, kupo." She shrugged. "See you tomorrow." Lini turned towards the door again.

"Lini?"

She turned back. "Yes, kupo?"

"We're over a kilometre above the earth, kupo. How are you getting off of this ship?"

"I have my ways, kupo."

She walked out of the room, and Isaac remained staring where she left.

--

Even after she was gone, he opened his mouth, thinking to say something, but then closed it again.

"Crap, kupo," he muttered, leaning down to rub his forehead. He glanced up suddenly, though, and said, "Who's there?"

Somebody gasped, and then a white form stumbled out from around the door frame. It was a moogle, and a rather young one. Her fur was a white, flecked with dirty grey in places. Isaac nodded to her as she entered the room.

"Cecilia. Were you listening to that entire conversation, kupo?"

"Yes." She said it with her head lowered, not looking him in the eye.

"Well that's embarrassing," he muttered, leaning back in his chair and running his good paw through his headfur. He sighed, and then looked directly at her. "So what do you think, kupo?"

"She seems very strong," Cecilia shrugged, slowly looking up at him. When she saw that he wasn't angry, she cleared her throat, and said, "She really knows you, doesn't she, kupo?"

"It seems like it." Isaac nodded to the chair which Lini had left. "Sit down. I could use somebody to talk to."

Cecilia nodded, and sat down carefully on the chair. She squirmed slightly, then took another look at him. "Uh, captain?"

"Yes, kupo?"

"I know that you don't like to talk about it, kupo, but, uh... who were you before you joined the crew?"

Isaac shrugged, then leaned forward beneath the desk. He fiddled around audibly with something for a few moments, then came back up with a bottle of brown liquid. He opened the bottle, and tilted it back. He put it down on the desk and wiped his face with the back of his arm. He took a few breaths, and answered as best he could:

"I don't even know. All I know is that I made a huge mistake. I lost somebody incredibly close to me, and then everything fell apart. Before I knew it, I'd lost someone else. But this time, it was completely my fault."

Cecilia looked at him curiously, then asked, "So what happened?"

"What happened, kupo? I ran away as far and as fast as I could, and I didn't even look back. I'd kind of hoped that when they finally came and found me, that they'd be coming to kill me."

"You _wanted_ somebody to come at you in a murderous rage, kupo?"

"Kind of."

Cecilia snorted and shook her head, grinning at him. "Well, I'm glad that you were disappointed, kupo."

"Oh, trust me, it isn't too far off. If I go with her, then I'm bound to run into him again."

"Who, kupo?"

Isaac tapped his foot on the floor a couple times, then muttered, "Nobody, kupo."

Realising that she'd struck a painful spot, Cecilia instead nodded to the blade. "That's a nice weapon, kupo. She said it was yours, kupo. What did she mean?"

Isaac glanced down at the blade. Slowly, he pushed his chair back and stood up. He reached out with his left paw and closed it around the silver hilt just above the amethyst pommel. 

He let out a contented sigh as lightness flew through his body, and then held the weapon up, twirling it around his wrist and catching it.

"This is the Avuir Blue, and it appears that Lini was right, kupo. It's mine."

Cecilia looked at him, and asked, "Does this mean that you won't be teaching me to fight anymore?"

"Sorry, Cecilia," Isaac grinned. "I've got to meet somebody tomorrow. However, you have to promise me one thing, kupo."

"Name it."

"When this is all over, one way or another, I won't be coming back, kupo. After it's done, you have to find the Materia Blade and wield it."

"Me, kupo? Are you joking?"

"I've never been more serious, kupo." Isaac bit his lip for a moment, knowing that he was about to thrust something terrible upon his younger friend. But it had to be. "This blade was meant to be with you next."

"I'm not fit to wield it, though, kupo!"

"I can promise you, Cecilia, if _I _was ever fit to wield this blade, then you're far than more fit."

"Isaac—"

"Please." His voice was hard, and she glanced up suddenly at him. His gaze was intense as it lay upon her. "This is the last time we'll ever speak together in private. I'll promise you that. You have to understand that whether you want to or not, kupo, you will grow to be one of the strongest mog knights in the world. If you ever want to survive, then you have to find this blade and use it. Do you understand?"

She looked oddly at him, confusion clear in her blue eyes. Then, she nodded once, and whispered, "You're serious?"

"Yes, kupo."

She nodded again. "You'll be gone before any of us wake up tomorrow, won't you?"

"Yes, kupo. Mr Newman will be taking over as the captain, and I'd like Katherine to become first mate. But either way, this is goodbye, Cecilia Jones."

The white moogle nodded slowly, and sniffed once. There was barely contained moisture glistening on her eyes. She stood up, and said, "Goodbye, Captain Isaac."

Isaac watched her back as she walked out of his office. He waited a few moments for her footsteps to go up the stairs back to the deck, and let out a heavy sigh. He leaned his head down and placed it in his hands. He had probably just condemned that girl to an early death. He had finally done some research in the past few years; there were precious few wielders of the Five Ancient Weapons who survived to their old age. As far as he could tell, none had died of natural causes.

"It's the way of things," he muttered to himself, and raised his head to glance around the room. "It's the bloody way of bloody things."

He had precious few things to pack. Once they landed at the base in a couple of hours, he could just slip into the darkness with his weapons and a bed roll, then disappear from them forever. Newman and Calder were both good sailors; they'd keep the crew safe. Though, he smirked, he didn't think that he'd ever heard of a White mage captaining a pirate hunting vessel before.

"There's a first time for everything, kupo."

He reached over and opened his desk, pulling out a sheet of parchment. He grabbed a bottle of ink and a quill, then scribbled a quick note. He had much to do, and very little time to do it.

--

Lini glanced up as she heard the footsteps. In the pale morning light, there was a short figure walking purposefully down the road. He kept his head low, the long brown ears pushed back against his spine. He was wearing a long grey greatcoat, the bottom of which was slightly stained with mud from the road. There was the hilt of a blade protruding just above his left shoulder, and a second, silver hilt at his right hip. A bandolier, heavy with bullets, crossed his chest over his green shirt. She just saw the handle of a pistol sticking out from the folds of the greatcoat.

A small smile crossed her face, and she stepped fully out from underneath the eaves of _the Golden Gil_, pulling a packchocobo's reigns with her. The great beast warbled slightly as Isaac approached, but made no other sound.

He finally reached her, and raised his head to look her in the eyes.

There was a moment of silence.

"I hate you, kupo."

"I know. Come on, we need to be at the Roda Volcano within the next two weeks."

"Roda?"

"We've got a bangaa to pick up, kupo."

Isaac nodded and then the two set out, the chocobo following timidly behind them.

* * *

A/N: Okay, a few things I should mention to protect my name. Firstly, it has come to my attention that the breakers I used for my old stories (namely, a long line of periods) have been editted out by for some reason. Dang. I apologize for this, and I'll probably get around to altering that soon to make it legible again.

Second, I came up with the whole three year time skip thing before I'd ever heard of Naruto. I did not steal their idea, or not intentionally at least, so don't accuse me of that.

Third, yeah, this chapter leaves LOTS unexplained. I'll try to give a bit more explanation over the course of the story, but it'll be a long time coming. I apologize for that in advance.

Fourth, just for a random bit of trivia, shortly after starting writing this story, I briefly considered deleting everything and starting from this point. From a literary point of view, that would have been the better option. I didn't.


	72. Roda Volcano

The two of them walked in silence through the hilly countryside. Occasionally, one or the other glanced over at the other, but that was it. The only noise came from their steady footsteps on the road and the occasionally warble from their chocobo. The great bird seemed to understand the tension in the air, though, and kept quiet for the most part. They didn't even trade words when they reached a point where the road had been washed out by the rain; instead, they each just plodded onward without looking up.

It was not until they were approaching the end of their first day travelling that Lini finally tried to speak with him.

"This seems about as awkward as the morning after we slept together for the first time, kupo," she remarked, watching his face carefully.

He disappointed her, however, when his face showed no reaction. The old Isaac probably would have at least blushed a bit and turned away, if he hadn't gone completely overboard. She sighed in annoyance.

"You're no fun anymore, you know that?"

"I'm not really here to have fun, Lini."

"Fine then." Lini glanced up at the sky, barely catching the silhouette of the moon rising amongst the clouds. "Why did you come, kupo?"

"Why don't you tell me?" Isaac managed to catch her gaze, and held it as they continued walking. "You knew I was going to come, didn't you, kupo?"

"Knowing _that_ you're going to come and knowing _why_ you're going to come are two very things. I told you a long time ago, kupo, I don't know who you are."

"And I know any better, kupo?" Isaac shook his head. "You're talking to the wrong person if you ever want any answers."

"Answers? I don't give a care about answers; those are boring. I just want to know what you're thinking."

Isaac continued watching her for several seconds, trying to read her just as she did the same to him. Then, he turned his head away, sighing as he stepped around a puddle. "I'm actively seeking out the three people who I've been doing everything to avoid for the past three years, kupo. I don't even know what I _should_ be thinking."

"What you 'should' be thinking doesn't matter either. What _are_ you thinking, Isaac?"

Isaac tilted his head back, and breathed out sharply through his nostrils. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them and tilted his head towards Lini. "I'm thinking that I picked the wrong travelling partner if I want to keep repressing my problems, kupo."

"Stop dodging the question, kupo. Start with Maxwell, seeing as he's the person we're going to see first."

"Fine. I don't even know what I think about Maxwell. He saved my life and nearly got himself killed doing it. But he also killed Thomas, and I don't know if I can forgive him for that, whether it was to save me or not. Honestly, I don't remember anything from that night, so, for all I know, Thomas could've been trying to save me instead of murdering me. And then, on top of that, I feel guilty about not being able to forgive Max, because who am I to judge him for ki—"

He stopped, and blinked several times. He cleared his throat, then lowered his head without saying anything else.

Lini nodded, and didn't press him any further.

The two continued walking for about an hour after that, wanting go as late as possible. The sky, quite grey and dim to begin with, dulled down further and dropped swiftly into 

darkness. Lini walked along with her head tilted back, watching the moon as it became more and more apparent in the sky. Isaac kept his eyes set ahead, just in case a palace patrol came along.

When they stopped, Lini went over to their chocobo and reached into one of the packs on its back. She shoved things around until her eyes lit up slightly, and she pulled out a large bag. Within a couple of minutes, she and Isaac had unfolded and set up a tent from within it. Even as Isaac was pushing the last peg into the ground, Lini came walking up with a small pack filled with travelling rations. Isaac tied the chocobo's reigns to a peg, and then the two of them ducked into the tent.

Isaac accepted a piece of jerky from Lini and began gnawing at it in silence. His eyes were dull as they stared at a single point on the wall, barely even blinking.

"By the way," Lini said suddenly, shocking Isaac from his reverie. "I've got something for you."

Isaac looked on in interest as Lini grabbed another bag and pulled open the top. She reached inside and carefully pulled out something black.

Isaac's eyes widened as Lini slapped his old fedora several times to get the dust off.

"I found it outside of the Tower after Exodus disappeared," she explained, and then pointed to several points on it. "It was kind of beaten up, so I had to mend it in a few places. The feather was gone too, kupo, so I had to replace that." She turned it around so that Isaac could see the feather, a small red one, then held the hat out to him.

Isaac eyed it carefully before reaching forward and taking it from her. He remained staring at it for some time after this. Lini's voice surprised him when it spoke.

"Are you going to put it on, kupo?"

Isaac raised his head and looked at her, then muttered, "'Scuse me."

He stood up and ducked outside of the tent, walking away into the dimming evening. The chocobo warbled at him as he passed, but Isaac ignored it, stepping off of the path and heading towards one of the nearer hills. He didn't even think of the fedora in his paw as he began climbing, leaning forward into the side. He just felt the overwhelming desire to do something physical.

Isaac didn't really understand his reluctance to put the hat on. It was just a hat. Still, there seemed to be something... wrong... about putting it on his head.

He'd always worn the hat back when he was younger. Since he was twelve back in the real world; he'd simply found it at a used clothing store in St Ivalice with Ben one day. He liked it, and so he bought it. It became his trademark, the one thing that people used to identify him. In fact, after that day, he could barely remember a day he hadn't been wearing it.

That was, at least, until he came to Ivalice. He kept loosing it everywhere while he was there, either in the midst of battles or during one of his insane escapes. He recalled having it disappear after falling off of _the Torrent_'s deck for several days, before Ben's panther Topier had found it for him. There were probably other times which he couldn't recall as clearly, but he knew that it had happened more and more frequently as the danger of his battles had increased.

Then, while fighting off one of the vines attacking Maxwell, the fedora had dropped from his head, and he was forced to leave it behind. Of course, he'd forgotten all about it in his haste to rush off and save his friends, and he'd scarce thought of it since then.

He'd always found the fedora somewhat useful in battles. It helped to keep his ears back and out of his face and prevented them from getting hit by errant arrows during combat. Since he'd lost it, he normally just tied them back with a black bandanna to keep them out of the way.

Isaac twirled the hat around in his paw, then tossed it up into the air. Not even looking, he reached out behind himself and caught it. A small grin crossed his face, and he flicked the hat upwards, sending it spinning up along his arm. He rolled his shoulders back, letting it slide along behind his head, and the hat went over to his right paw. He reached his paw up to catch it.

The hat slapped against his immobile fingers, and dropped to the earth. Isaac stared at it, breathing in and out. It had taken him over a year to learn how to do that back in St Ivalice. With one moment and one bad decision, it was gone.

Isaac sighed, then slipped his foot into the hat. He kicked it upwards, and caught the fedora in his left paw. He tucked it under his arm, and turned back towards their campsite. He wouldn't wear the hat. It wasn't his anymore. It seemed that his suspicions had been true. He really wasn't the same moogle he had been those years ago. Wearing this hat would just be a lie.

The chocobo looked up at him as he approached, and cocked its head to the side. Not even looking to the beast, Isaac stepped up beside and reached towards one of the packs attached to its side. He fumbled with the straps, and then pushed the hat into his bag. He did it up again, then stepped back into the tent.

Lini glanced towards him as he approached. Isaac noticed her eyes flicking up to his bare head, and then lower somewhat.

"It's not the same, Lini. I'd be lying to myself if I tried to be the same."

"You _are_ lying to yourself now, kupo," she countered. Isaac sighed and shook his head, turning away. Lini pressed on. "You're different, kupo. Of course you're different. _I'm_ different. It's been three years; we're all different. Right now, though, you're being ridiculous."

"Excuse me?"

"You're pretending to be something other than what you are, kupo. You believe that you were too weak—"

"I don't want to hear it, Lini!" Isaac snapped, rounding on her.

"You ha—"

"I don't care, kupo. You can say whatever mystical nonsense you want about me being stronger than that. In the end, though, it doesn't change anything! Thomas is still dead. I still murdered Jacqueline. You say nice things, kupo, but they don't mean anything in the real world."

The two stared at each other for a good time after this, not blinking. Then they both turned away and set about to preparing for sleep.

Outside, the chocobo warbled forlornly. It seemed that this was going to be a very awkward journey.

--

Ten days later, the two moogles and the chocobo were walking along a scraggly mountain pass. The weather had improved somewhat; the slight remaining chill had dimmed away, and the sun was high. Isaac had stowed his coat in his pack on the chocobo's back, and now simply wore the Materia Blade strapped to his back. His ears were covered by his bandanna, and he had his head bowed to keep the sun out of his eyes.

The two of them were making good time. They had had to slow down somewhat upon reaching the mountains. The heat seemed multiplied by the added strain of climbing, and so they were taking it slower.

It was as they were climbing a small steppe that a voice called out to them.

"Halt!"

The voice was low, with a grainy quality beneath its surface. Upon hearing it, an exasperated look crossed Lini's face, and she swore.

"Just let us get down from this wall, first," she called out.

"Fine, but no moving after that."

Isaac glanced over at Lini, but she simply shrugged and began climbing downward.

The moment that the two stepped down, a voice growled out, "Don't move."

"Lance, kupo," Lini muttered, rolling her eyes, "you know me. You know that we don't pose any threat."

"I may know you, Lini, but I've never met that one next to you."

Isaac turned, trying to find the source of the voice. However, the moment he began moving, he felt something hard pressing against his back. His eyes widened, and he felt his pulse rise somewhat.

"I told you not to move, moogle."

There was silence as Isaac stood, his back as straight as he could manage, and counted his breaths. "Whatever weapon you have against me, kupo, drop it."

"I'm in charge here, moogle..."

"Could you two stop trying to be macho?" Lini asked, raising an eyebrow to Isaac and the invisible figure behind him. "Isaac, this is Lance, one of Maxwell's commanders. Lance, this is Isaac of the Five."

"Prove it."

Lini sighed, then reached over and grabbed Isaac's right paw. She hefted it up and pulled the longer sleeve down, exposing the twisted and scarred paw. Isaac yanked it back down violently, but he stopped as he felt the pressure on the back disappearing.

His confusion only grew as the voice behind him said, "I apologize, sir. I didn't know."

Isaac's eyes flicked over to Lini. Apparently she managed to read his uncertainty, so she piped up quickly, "I'm sure he'll get over it. For now, could you please escort us to the volcano?"

"Of course."

Isaac finally turned around and caught a glimpse of the man who had been threatening him. He was a human, and a huge one at that. His shoulders were broad, his arms thick and sinewy. Whenever he moved, muscle rippled beneath his clothing. His hair, a fiery in the bright sun, was messy and spilt somewhat over his light brown eyes. He was holding a massive spear which must have been at least his size easily in one hand. There was a sword hanging from his belt, and the hilt of another weapon sticking out above his right shoulder.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," the human nodded to him.

"Likewise," Isaac replied. He was confused, though. Lance's eyes seemed to be... sizing him up?

Without warning, Lance turned sharply around and began walking away. Lini followed behind him and Isaac, after a moment's hesitation, went along as well.

They went for perhaps twenty minutes before the volcano actually came into view. As soon as Isaac saw it, he noticed the differences.

Before, the place had been a spike rising from the ground in the midst of a small mountain plateau. The plateau was bare, and everything around was flat. Over the past three years, though, it had been developed. The actual volcano had battlements and lookout positions built onto it. For perhaps a kilometre around the volcano itself there was a wall fencing the area 

in. This wall, though looking somewhat ragtag, was about two metres thick, and looked as solid as any wall Isaac had ever seen.

As they got closer, Isaac began to make out shapes along the wall, moving back and forth. He identified most of them as bangaas right away from their impressive height. Scattered amongst these were some humans and the occasional moogle or nu mou.

"Alright, you'll have to tell me, kupo," Isaac whispered, leaning over to Lini. "What has Maxwell been up to the past few years?"

Lini laughed a bit. "Lots. Obviously, the bangaas needed a place to live after Sprohm was destroyed..."

"He took in _all_ of them?"

"...not quite, kupo." Her face darkened somewhat, and Isaac noticed a few bags forming under her eyes. Those hadn't been there three years ago...

"How do you mean?"

"I think that you should ask Maxwell that question, kupo. He was far closer to that storm than me; I was off fighting in the evacuation of Cyril when that happened, kupo."

"The evacuation of Cyril?"

Lini glanced over at him, her eyes growing even darker. "You really have been cutting yourself off, haven't you?"

"I..." Isaac stopped, though, swallowing and looking back forwards at Lance. The human was glancing over his shoulder at them curiously. The moogle realized that he really had no defence. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"Are you telling me that you don't know about Jagd Cyril?" the human demanded, his expression turning to a glare.

"Kupopo?"

Lance stared at him and stopped moving for a few moments. Those odd brown eyes were fixed sharply on him. "_He's_ supposed to be at par with Lord Maxwell?"

"Lance," Lini warned.

"No. How can he help us at all if he doesn't even know what's happened in the past three years? He may as well—"

"Lance." Lini's voice was cold, and when Isaac glanced over to her from the human he saw that her eyes had adopted the same look she used to use on himself and Thomas. "Need I remind you that this moogle battled on par with an inquisitor's crew after only a few weeks of combat training? That he was instrumental on the team to recover the Avuirs? That he is one of only four people alive to _ever_ land a meaningful blow on the Worldwyrm, including the Hero Gaol? That he was the one who stopped Exodus from completely wiping out the population of Sprohm?" Isaac winced at that, but Lini pressed on. "He does not need to explain himself to you."

Lance stared at her for a few moments, then shook his head and turned away. Isaac glanced to Lini, raising an eyebrow. She shrugged.

"He's a bit harsh before you get to know him, kupo. He does get better, though."

"I'll take your word for it."

The three of them kept walking until they reached the gates of the wall. Upon seeing Lance and Lini, the guards on the wall called down. A moment later, the gates began creaking inwards. Lance and Lini stepped forward, Isaac following behind them.

"Welcome to the camp of the Red Dragons," Lance muttered, looking over his shoulder to Isaac. "Home of all those who know the truth."

They entered the camp, walking through a straight and wide path which seemed to serve as a street. All around them there were tents and caravans set up, with bangaas of all ages and sizes crowded into them. These temporary settlements, though, appeared to have taken on a more permanent nature. They had additions built onto them and comfortable bits of furniture stuck inside. Many of the settlements along this route appeared to be shops and boutiques, dealing in anything imaginable.

Many of the inhabitants turned to look at them as they approached, and then backed off hurriedly at the sight of the tall human and the moogle. They gave Isaac curious looks, and a few leaned over to whisper to each other while pointing at him.

However, nobody stopped them. They made their way completely unhindered up to the volcano, where they ducked into one of the passages which led inside. Much to Isaac's surprise, there was no increase in the heat levels. When he'd come here to fight Cheney, he'd begun sweating buckets the moment they entered the volcano. He glanced over to Lini for an explanation.

"It turns out something the Worldwyrm did sealed up the volcano," she shrugged. "Maxwell said that he must have used some sort of advanced cold breath attack, kupo. It's the group's main headquarters now."

They wound through the long path which led to the core of the volcano. During his original frantic flight through the volcano, he hadn't noticed, but there were a lot of side passages in this main route. These had all been worked in and hollowed out slightly, being turned into passageways leading to other sections of the volcano.

When they finally stepped out of the passage and into the main chamber of the volcano, Isaac was surprised by how it looked. The small lake of lava which had been at the centre was now fully made of stone; however, this stone was rough and uneven. Some might say it was even bubbly, reflecting its shape when it was instantaneously solidified. At the centre of this uneven floor was a small bit of perfectly flat stone, on which was a large table with chairs set around it. On all of the walls, there were maps and charts showing different locations of Ivalice and their populations.

At the table, there were four bangaas sitting and speaking in heated voices. However, as the human and the two moogles stepped into the room, one glanced up. She leaned over quickly and whispered something into the ear of a bangaa whose back was to them. This bangaa straightened in surprise, then stood up, and turned around.

"Isaac," Maxwell said, his eyes wide as they fell on the brown moogle.

"Max."

There was silence as the two simply stared at each other for some time. Then, Lini cleared her throat, announcing, "I am tired, kupo. Would you kindly show me to my rooms?"

All three of the bangaas hopped up, and, after nodding to Maxwell, crossed the lumpy floor to Lini and Lance. The five then walked out of the room, leaving Isaac and Maxwell alone.

The two remained silent as they continued to simply stare in open amazement at each other. Maxwell had grown. That was for sure. He must have been at least seven feet tall now, with legs the size of tree trunks and shoulders probably as broad as Isaac was tall. There were more scars on Maxwell than before, as shown by his very plain clothing. He wore a simple red tunic with short sleeves and a pair of brown leather breeches. His mostly torn off ear gave his head the appearance of being off kilter in a somewhat comical way. His eyes remained fixed ans passive on Isaac, his mouth gaping.

The silence was not broken until Maxwell grinned and said, "You're not dead."

"Was I supposed to be, kupo?" Isaac asked, a smile playing on the edges of his mouth.

"Well..." Maxwell said, giving his shoulders and exaggerated shrug and trailing off with a smile. The two burst out laughing, and began striding towards each other at the same time. They met in the middle of the former lava, and Maxwell held out his hand. "It's wonderful to see you again."

Isaac took the offered hand, very thankful that Maxwell had remembered to shake with the left. It was always awkward when somebody forgot. "I've missed you too, kupo."

Maxwell turned slightly, indicating the table with his hand. Isaac nodded, and the two walked over the lake. They each took a seat once they reached the table, and settled back comfortably.

"Have you had any contact with the others since... then, kupo?" Isaac asked, his voice spiking slightly.

"Only Eileen," Maxwell replied. "But that was before the evacuation of Cyril and the splitting of the bangaa, so not for a while. It's difficult to meet when you're on opposite sides of the law."

Isaac blinked, then shook his head. "Alright, you have to realise that I've been on an airship for the past three years, kupo. I can count the number of times I've docked in an Ivalicean port on one paw, kupo. I have no idea what you're talking about right now."

"You don't know anything about what happened?"

"No, though I'd love it if you could explain it."

Maxwell sighed, then lowered his head into his hands and kneaded the skin extremely hard. "Alright, where to begin? Both you and Ben disappeared after that night in Sprohm. Eileen and I tried to get involved in the efforts to help rebuild and reorganize the city. That lasted about a week, though. Word had gotten out that it was Exodus that had attacked the city, and a rather large faction of the city chose to blame the viera for the attack. Many of these were led by the more fanatic religious leaders. I tried to stop these sentiments, but it wasn't enough. The majority of the warrior population of the city decided to march to attack Muscadet.

"I gathered together all those who were thinking clearly to my side, and we became the framework of the Red Dragons. Eileen decided to go back to Cadoan in order to summon some mages to help slow the rogue bangaa faction, and so I led my group in pursuit of the others. We managed to overtake them, and arrived in Muscadet several days prior to the attack and warned them. We were expecting some magical back-up from Cadoan, but, as we would learn later, Eileen and her alchemists were called in to deal with the situation in Cyril.

"When the bangaa arrived, we managed to hold them off for some time, but Muscadet was never designed to withstand such attack. Much of the city was destroyed. We decided it would be best if the groups of defenders, the viera and my bangaas, separated and fell back into hiding. We retreated here, and we found out much of the rest of what happened through leaked intelligence reports. Once we find Eileen, she'll be able to explain more to us. That, however, is all I know."

Throughout all of this, Isaac had been silent, rubbing his chin and narrowing his eyes in thought. Now, though, he spoke, slow and measured. "So Muscadet is gone, kupo?"

"Yes."

"And where are the viera?"

"Only Exodus knows that. There are rumours that Clan Ritz has taken on the leadership of the viera, but they are only rumours."

"And Sprohm is gone as well?"

"Yes."

"Then what's all this about Cyril being a jagd, kupo?"

"Things got..." Maxwell mulled over his words slowly. "Complicated. I don't know the whole story."

"Ah."

The two sat in silence again, mulling over the situation. Then, quite suddenly, Maxwell stood up from his chair and began speaking.

"I must be working though. I have a few affairs to deal with before the morning."

"The morning, kupo? What happens then?"

A grim smile came to Maxwell's face. "I pass on the leadership of the Red Dragons, and you, Lini and I attempt to do the impossible."

"Kupopo?"

"Get into Cadoan."

--

A/N: I apologize, I wanted to clean up and lengthen this chapter a bit, and write up until they were actually going to leave. However, I'm leaving at ten in the morning tomorrow and won't be back for a week, so I don't have much of an option if I want a chapter up before then. I'll make sure to add in all the stuff I missed next chapter so it makes sense.

Also, I'd just like to take a second to thank all of the people who have left reviews for my stories who don't have accounts or leave email addresses. I normally try to reply to every review I get to show that I'm thankful for them, but I can't do that with these. Thus, thank you to all of view, especially Sokka's fan/lawyer, who has been reviewing regularly and religiously for quite some time now.


	73. City of Mages

"Alright, just about everything's ready," Maxwell announced.

Isaac started and looked back over his shoulder in surprise. He hadn't heard the bangaa approaching, preoccupied as he was with the view in front of him.

"Sorry," Maxwell said, sitting down next to the moogle. "I thought you'd want to know that you won't have to wait too long tomorrow."

"Thank Famfrit," Isaac nodded, settling back down. He sent his gaze back over the camp, his eyes taking it in. It was extremely organized, apparently, because as soon as the sun had set, the activity in the camp had died. "Everybody keeps staring at me, kupo."

"Yes, they do that quite often with me as well," Maxwell admitted. He leaned back slightly so that he was looking at the night sky above, muttering, "They see us as heroes, now. Wherever we go there's bound to be great happenings. I hear many rumours that the mages of Cadoan act the same towards Eileen, but I can't be sure. It will be the worst for you, though, because nobody ever thought that they'd be able to see you."

"I'm that much of a legend, kupo?"

"Isaac, the people of this nation see you as one of their saviours." Maxwell laid flat out on the stone, stretching out his spine to get more comfortable. He twitched his tail somewhat, before letting it droop over the edge with his legs. "Eileen, Ben and I have done incredible things in the past years, and we've all heard rumours of what you've accomplished. Not to mention, nobody really knows who you are. They all just think of you as..." He searched for words. "...as the final link in the chain."

Isaac snorted, and chuckled slightly. "Ivalice sure is in trouble then, eh, kupo?"

Maxwell, though, replied in a very serious voice. "I do not believe so. Together we can accomplish anything, Isaac. That is what we must hold onto."

Isaac didn't reply, and Maxwell didn't press, so the two simply laid back and kept watching the night sky. All around them, the world was quiet. Not even the soft voices of the guards greeting each other on their patrols drifted up to their position at the tip of the volcano. For a while, it seemed as though nothing were there but for the sky and the two of them.

"So how did you know that you would find me up here, kupo?"

"You have been hiding up in the sky for three years, Isaac." The bangaa, unseen by Isaac, grinned. "Where else would you go to? Besides, this is where I come whenever I need to think."

"What do you need to think about right now, kupo?"

A snort sounded out through the air. "Well, firstly, I have to completely reorganize the force and pass it on so that everything works out well for this group. Second, Lini and I have to think up a way to get to Eileen without a few hundred guards trying to stop us beforehand. Third..." Maxwell stopped, then glanced over at Isaac. The moogle was still staring up at the sky. His eyes were fixed, and Maxwell managed to catch the reflection of the moon in them. He sighed, then reached over, tapping the hilt of the Materia Blade. It was protruding from Isaac's shoulder, lying underneath his back. "I'm sure you've done your research."

It took a few moments for Isaac to reply. "Yeah, kupo."

"Well, there you go. I'm a ticking time bomb, Isaac. I probably won't live that long with this power. And now that we're moving again, it can only be coming sooner."

Isaac nodded slowly, never losing sight of the moon. "You know, they say that the wielders of the Materia Blades are supposed to be the closest of the Ultima wielders, kupo. They match each other, just like their blades."

Maxwell nodded as well. "We're going to change the world, Isaac."

"You know it, kupo. Not alone though."

Maxwell nodded without saying anything, and laid back out again.

* * *

The following morning found Isaac, still rubbing sleep from his eyes, standing out front of the walls of the camp. He had a dark glove pulled over his right paw, but that was the only piece of warm clothing he wore. It seemed as though they were going to be having a very hot summer, as it was only the first weeks of spring and it was already sweltering outside.

There were several bangaa standing out in front of them, dressed rather imposingly. Most of them carried their weapons, and all had made sure to wear clothing which displayed at least a bit of their muscled skin.

"I apologize that I have to leave," Maxwell was saying. He held a massive spear easily in his right hand, and the Materia Blade was strapped to his back from right shoulder to left hip; the exact opposite to Isaac. He wore very little armour, as opposed to usual: a set of shining bracers and a heavy breastplate with a dragon emblazoned upon it. He also wore a dark red cape which covered his shoulders and back. "I can do far more with Lini and Isaac than I could ever do here. Besides, Torquil is a very capable leader, and he'll do better than I ever could."

"I ssstill disssagree ssstrongly with thisss decccision," Torquil, the bangaa Maxwell was speaking to, replied. A nasty scar covered much of his face, and he stood as though the broadsword on his back weighed nothing at all. "We should think of the protection of the Red Dragons firssst."

"I can't stay. You all know that. My power is needed more by my friends."

Torquil opened his mouth to disapprove, but another bangaa standing behind him reached forward and touched his shoulder. He wore the long robes of a bishop. "I agree with Lord Maxwell in thisss matter. He musssst go."

Torquil opened his mouth to argue again, but instead sighed, shaking his head. "Fine. I can't ssstop you, anyway."

"That's the spirit," Maxwell smiled at his second in command. Then, he glanced over to the other bangaa. "Thank you, Evan."

"Of courssse," the bishop nodded, offering a small wink over Torquil's shoulder. "When will Lanccce be returning to ussss?"

"As soon as we've found Eileen," Maxwell explained. "Unfortunately, until then, he's necessary to me."

"Well, we'll expect him back sssoon, then," Evan said, and his wrinkled face broke into a smile. "We wish you all the bessst, ssssir."

Maxwell smiled back, then turned around. He nodded to the other three who were with him: Lini, Isaac, and Lance. They all nodded back, and so the four set out without any further discussion. Lini took the reins of their chocobo, now loaded down with even more baggage, and the four headed off over the mountains.

As they were walking, Isaac kept casting glances over at Lance. The large human was completely passive, not seeming to even notice Isaac's curiosity. What surprised him more than anything about the strange man was his weapon of choice. A spear. The huge weapons were a typical weapon for stronger bangaa like Maxwell. Their incredible range and versatility made them adaptable to nearly any situation. However, there was a reason that they were exclusive to bangaas. Isaac had once tried to life a spear, and had barely managed to get the blade off of the ground. A human could carry one occasionally, but it was a great strain. Fighting with one would be far beyond any human's capability, no matter how strong they were for their own race.

However, Lance carried his weapon almost as comfortably as Maxwell. He used it as a walking stick as much as anything, swinging it up and down in a steady rhythm. Yes, the human was a mystery. A very powerful mystery, too, it seemed.

They kept walking for some time after this. As they went, Isaac found himself becoming more and more uncomfortable. Surely they'd noticed? But if they had, why wouldn't they have done anything yet? He chose to wait another five minutes before speaking.

"Uh... you all know we're being followed, kupo, right?"

"Yes," all three said at once.

"Good. Just wanted to make sure." Isaac nodded, then waited for somebody to add something. When nobody did, Isaac took a quick glance around at them. "So, uh, are we going to _do_ anything about it, kupo?"

"No," Maxwell shook his head, a small smirk on his face. "Let her attack."

"...okay..."

Isaac carefully shrugged his shoulders, making it look as though he were stretching, in order to make sure his blade was still hanging from its belt. Right, it was there. Good, now he just had to make sure that nobody was about to assassinate them. He really hated being out of the loop.

It was another ten minutes before anything happened. Then, when it did happen, it was fast. There was a stamping of feet from the top of a natural wall next to them, then a scraping of steel, and a shadow passed over them. Isaac glanced up, and caught sight of a figure silhouetted by the sun, coming down at them with a blade held in both hands over its head.

Isaac jumped back and out of the way, his left paw going to the silver hilt at his waist. Lini and Lance jumped as well, but Maxwell, strangely enough, stood his ground, and simply drew the Materia Blade.

The assailant came down, her blade smashing into Maxwell's. The force of the block held her stationary for a moment, which gave Maxwell a chance to sweep his hand out and punch the other bangaa in the stomach.

She gasped and fell, stumbling backwards on her landing. Maxwell didn't press the attack, simply waiting for her. Once she'd regained her breath a moment later, the bangaa rushed in at him again, her blade slashing.

Maxwell parried several of her two-handed blows without even changing his stance; he simply wove the blade around and caught each attack along the weapon's length. Then, he blocked one of her attacks, gave his wrist a slight flick, and her weapon flew from her hands, spinning through the air.

Maxwell raised his blade up so that the tip was resting just beneath her chin, and then stood there, calmly regarding his attacker.

"You've been doing extra practise, Amy."

The bangaa panted, sweat making her thin scales shine. "Not enough though, apparently."

"No," Maxwell shook his head, "not enough. I'm sorry, but you're not ready to wield the Materia Blade yet."

"But how will I ever manage to become ssstrong enough to wield it if you leave?" she demanded, her eyes darkening.

Isaac stood back, then, understanding. He relaxed, watching the young female bangaa as she glared at his friend. This Amy figure appeared to be similar to Cecilia. The next in line...

"You'll become stronger. Remember, though, there are only three ways that one can inherit an Ultima weapon. First is if the wielder loses or becomes unfit to wield the weapon. Second is if the wielder believes that another is more suited to the weapon than them. Third..."

"...isss if the wielder diesss." Amy nodded, careful to keep her neck from scraping against the blade.

"There you go." Maxwell pulled the weapon back, twirled it around, then shoved it into the sheath on his back. He stretched his neck out a bit, saying, "It shouldn't be too long before one of those events happens, though. Just remember..."

"...it isss my duty to find the blade should anything happen to you," Amy said, leaning her head from side to side as she did so. Apparently, this conversation was well rehearsed. Then, she turned to look at the company, and her eyes fell on the human. They widened considerably. "Oh, Lanccce..."

"Amy."

"You're going with them?"

"Only for a while."

"That'sss good. I'll ssssee you when you return."

"Yes, I guess so."

With that, Amy ran over to where her blade had fallen, picking it up. She dipped a quick bow to Maxwell, and then started moving along the path back the way that the other four had come.

The four of them watched her going for a few moments. Once her head had bobbed out of their vision, Maxwell turned to them. "I'm sorry. It was just a little last-minute business. Let's go." He turned to leave, then cast a glance over to Lance. "Are you ready?"

Lance nodded his head very slowly. "Yes."

"Good, kupo," Lini said. "It will take us a few days to get to Cadoan, and we should try to be as rested as we can when we arrive."

With that, the four set off for the city of magic.

* * *

Four days later, they found themselves staring across a great desert plane towards Cadoan. It didn't look that much different, from Isaac's point of view. It was almost as though nothing had changed in that one city.

However, as they approached, Isaac began noticing the differences. There were flags hanging from the previously clear walls; white with a red stripe down the middle. The flags of the palace. Also, unlike before, guards patrolled the perimeter, their weapons held clearly visible even from that great distance away.

"What happened there, kupo?" Isaac asked Lini, trying to keep Lance from hearing him.

"The city is under martial law, kupo. The palace took control of it shortly after the incident with Cyril. So long as people keep their noses clean, they stay safe."

Isaac nodded, understanding at once. It was almost the same as the situation in Baguba Port, from what he knew. The palace had a tight grip on everything. However, so long as you knew where to go, it was possible to slip between their fingers. Of course, in Baguba, it was probably easier to find such flaws in the palace's control. The inhabitants of the port had never really been ones for order, and it was almost impossible to monitor all of the people entering and leaving the city.

Cadoan, though, had already been under the watchful eyes of all of the mage guilds. All that the Palace would have needed was to plant a few people on all of the councils, and there would have been complete and absolute control.

"So how are we getting in there?" Lance asked.

"The usual," Lini muttered, nodding towards the chocobo. "I brought some palace uniforms with me."

"They're going to just let us ride through because we're dressed differently, kupo?"

"Let's just say they don't pay the guards enough for that kind of security, kupo."

"Ah."

They pulled several pieces of clothing out of the pack on the chocobo's back, all of them the same shade of white and red as the flags. Lini and Isaac hid the Avuirs in their packs, and Lance strapped his great spear to the chocobo's back.

"Are we ready, then?" Maxwell asked, pulling on a great shining helm to cover his face.

"It seems like it, kupo," Lini nodded, looking over the other three slowly. "Yes, we can go now. But _please_, all of you, let me do the talking."

They rolled out, all of them keeping their heads low. Before long, they were riding up towards the main gate to Cadoan, its great wooden doors sealed shut before them. A guard on the wall haled them, and Lini called back. They stopped their movement, and another guard popped out of a smaller door in the gate. He approached, and he and Lini began speaking very quickly. Isaac barely caught sight of the golden flashes passing from Lini's fingers to the guard's, and then they were being waved through.

Isaac kept his head low as he entered the city, knowing that it was important that nobody recognized him. However, he couldn't help but cast the occasional glance upwards to the red and white banners hanging from all of the buildings. Occasionally, there would be a house with boarded up windows and a white 'X' painted across the doorway. These houses were all badly kept, clearly not being lived in for some time.

It surprised Isaac a good deal. Cadoan had always been such a place of life. Perhaps not the frantic energetic life of Baguba or the natural and beautiful life of Muscadet, but life nonetheless. All of the people who passed by on the street had had a look in their eyes of... knowledge. There was no other word for it. They understood the happenings of the world better than most, and they reveled in it. Everybody would have been willing to help or explain something if asked, simply because they had all of the time and the intelligence in the world to do so.

Now, though, the few people who passed by on the streets kept their heads down and walked fast. More than a few wore scarves or hoods so that it was difficult to make out their features or identify them.

Lini had to give him a light tug on his sleeve to get his attention. He looked up at her suddenly, and she jerked her head over to the side, where there was a dark alley between two buildings. Isaac nodded, and followed her and the other two into the shadows.

Once they had gone sufficiently far, they pulled off the palace uniforms, throwing them into a pile of rubbish. They all grabbed their packs and their weapons, strapping them on wherever they would be the most easily accessible. Then, Lini reached up behind the chocobo's head and pulled its reins off. She patted it lightly on the beak, then nodded to the others.

Isaac and Lini's wings spread, flapping hard to get them off of the ground. They rose up, fighting the dead air the entire way, until they landed on the roof of one of the buildings beside them. Lini then waved to Lance and Maxwell down below, and backed up.

Suddenly, two forms flew up from the alley down below, catapulting up into the air. They both followed almost the same path, one just to the right and behind the other. They landed in easy crouches, barely making a noise.

Isaac nodded to Maxwell, and then stared at Lance. That had been a dragoon's jump. Humans couldn't learn how to do that...

"Let's go," Lini whispered, surprising Isaac from his thoughts. "We've got a lot of distance to cover, kupo, and we have to be quiet."

They all nodded, and set out over the rooftops.

* * *

It took about an hour for them to make it along their improvised pathway deep into the city. A few times, they had to stop and duck down because somebody was up on a roof cleaning out the eaves or trying to escape the heat inside of the buildings.

Finally, they reached their target: the Temple of Ultima. It was just as grand as when Isaac had first seen it; the great dark orb of crystal surrounded by broken and jagged hunks of coloured gems. There was only one difference, which was quite noticeable. From each of the gems and crystals there now were banners hanging down, bearing the same familiar white and red colours of the palace.

Behind the main orb centrepiece of the temple there was the actual building that was used as both the meeting place for the leaders of the mage guilds and as the headquarters for the Sages' Guild. It wasn't all that large or grand, when compared to other guild headquarters like the Alchemists' Guild. However, it held much more significance. It was the first building ever built in Cadoan, and thus also one of the oldest recorded buildings still standing in Ivalice. It was essentially a large brown sandstone building, long and square and flat. Within, apparently, was a rat's nest of hallways and plain rooms. One of the rooms, larger than the others, would be where the leaders of the city met.

"How much time do we have, kupo?"

"I think that we've made it just in time, Lini." Maxwell was looking to the sky, his fingers tapping down on his spear shaft.

"Excellent, kupo. So, you all know what you're doing, don't you, kupo?"

The other three nodded. Isaac reached up to his shoulder and pulled the Materia Blade from its sheath. He glanced down at the attachment he'd built onto it, and flicked a small switch on the side with his thumb. There was a click, and then a piece of metal which looked like a trigger dropped down from the hilt's attachment, ending just above his grip on the weapon. Isaac slid his paw up so that his index finger was pressing against the base of it, and took a deep breath.

"Don't wait up at all after you've lost them, Lance," Maxwell was saying. "Just go straight back."

"Yes, sir," the human nodded. Isaac glanced over, and noticed to his surprise that the human's knuckles were white on his spear. He was scared? "I hope to see you again soon."

"It might be no time at all," Maxwell shrugged. "Then again, it might be eternity. Personally, I hope it's not the latter."

Lance grinned at him; it was the first time Isaac had seen him smile.

"They're coming out, kupo," Lini whispered, drawing all of their attention back towards the entrance of the Sages' Guild. They all tensed as one as they watched the first few robed figures emerging, their collars turned up and their hats pulled low.

"Black mages," Lini identified at once, looking over to them. "We'll have to wait until they've moved some distance away before we move, kupo."

After the few Black mages came a rather large group of mages in white robes bordered with either blue or red. They waited for these to pass, and also a company of Time mages, Illusionists, and Morphers. It was only after all these had gone by that they noticed a twinkle of gold on the heads of one group which was leaving.

"They're here."

Two Alchemists wearing the hats of Third Eyes came out first, walking shoulder to shoulder. Then, Eileen stepped out.

Even from that distance, Isaac's breath caught in his throat as he noticed her. He felt his cheeks turning hot, and was thankful as always for his fur. She walked differently than before; her posture better, her back far straighter. She cast her eyes about her as she stepped, as though she were expecting an attack from any direction.

"Now?" Lance asked.

"Now," Lini and Maxwell said as one.

The human stood up straight, took one step to the edge of the roof, and then jumped.

"I declare an engagement!" Lini yelled, touching a paw to one of the judgepoints in her sash.

That's when everything turned into chaos.

Lance landed in the middle of the crowd of Time mages, crushing one beneath his feet. He twirled quickly, sending his spear out to full extension. It cracked off of one moogle's skull, sending the small spellcaster flying into the wall of a nearby building.

One nu mou, standing behind him, held up a hand, and flames began building in it. He drew his hand back, and pointed it forward, letting the fire shoot forth.

Lance, hearing this, twirled. He sucked in a deep breath, and expelled it. Along with the used air there came a jet of super-cooled water vapour in the form a blue mist. It hit the flames and pushed them back, throwing them straight into the face of the mage who'd thrown them.

Isaac stared. Now _that_ had definitely been a dragoon ability. How had he—?

"Isaac, stay focused!" Lini ordered. Isaac shook his head, drawing his attention away from the bizarre human below. Instead, he turned his head towards Eileen.

She looked as confused as everybody else by the sudden attack, and was reaching for her mace. Her two companions had already rushed ahead to join in the battle subduing the human.

It was then that the cobbled stones next to her exploded, throwing the rocks up into the air. She turned, surprise etched into her posture as she leaned back. Then, a fist shot out from the small cloud of dust and smashed into the side of her face, dropping her instantly.

A pair of strong hands grabbed her, hoisting her unconscious body up. Maxwell turned, throwing her over one shoulder with one arm, and then jumped again, flying back towards their hiding position. A few mages with faster instincts turned their way and raised their hands, preparing to attack.

Isaac raised the blade, pointing it down at the spellcasters. Without even pausing to aim or concentrate, he squeezed the trigger several times. Each time, a bullet flew from the built on mechanism which was attached to the hilt and the lower half of the blade's base. Every shot hit its mark, and the mages froze in their movements.

The moogle turned his attention back to Lance, and swallowed. The human was taking a beating. He had several burns and cuts on him from different spells, and he was definitely beginning to slow down. Realising that the human wouldn't last long without support, Isaac pointed his gun again, actually focusing this time. He squinted his eyes for a moment, then pulled the trigger.

His bullet slammed into the side of one of the unhurt Time mages. The nu mou staggered for a moment, looking confused. Then, he turned to one of his companions fighting beside him, and threw a fistful of lightning into his face.

A small smile crossed Isaac's face as Maxwell landed next to him. The bangaa panted.

"Let's get out of here!" Maxwell yelled. "They'll start attacking our position soon."

"Will Lance really be alright down there?"

"Don't worry, he's gotten himself out of tighter spots than this before. Once we're gone, he'll start running."

"Let's go then, kupo," Lini said, glancing over to Maxwell. "Can you handle her?"

"So long as we don't get attacked, I'll be fine."

"Good."

With that, the three took off, Maxwell jumping, and the two moogles flying as fast as they could.

* * *

It didn't take them long to reach the Alchemists' Guild. Fortunately, most of the guards were running off to help in the fight taking place at the temple not too far away, so it was a small matter for Isaac, Lini and Maxwell to sneak in through the window of Eileen's office around the back of the Guild. Maxwell passed Eileen through the window to Lini, and then followed them in himself.

The three stood there nervously for some time after this, waiting for Eileen to wake. Isaac found himself looking around the office, but was disappointed that it was actually quite normal. There were a few bookcases crammed full of thick old books, and papers spread out across the desk filled with notes. There were a couple small magical trinkets here and there, but nothing that impressive.

A groan alerted the three that Eileen was rousing. They turned all at once, and saw that the nu mou was already sitting up, rubbing her chin.

"Wow, Maxwell," she muttered, eying the bangaa ruefully. "You really hit me good, there."

Twin smiles broke across Isaac and Maxwell's faces as the bangaa said, "I knew that I had to hit hard to get through that thick skull of yours."

Eileen smiled back at him. She glanced around, and her eyes fell on Isaac. As soon as those green emeralds fell on Isaac, he felt paralysis setting in all over his body. His mouth went dry, and he was shaking. Finally, she stood up and walked towards him, regarding him curiously.

Then, she drew her hand back and delivered a heavy slap across his face.

The force of the blow sent Isaac staggering and almost made him trip. When the moogle looked up again, he saw Maxwell had turned away and found a great deal of interest in a note on Eileen's desk and that Lini was holding a paw over her mouth. She was clearly laughing.

A strong hand grabbed the front of Isaac's shirt, forcing him to look back at Eileen.

"That was for leaving without saying goodbye," she hissed at him.

Isaac stared up at her, fear clear in his face. "N-nice to see you again t-too, Eileen."

She remained glaring at him for a moment, then deflated. The anger left her face, and for the first time Isaac noted the patches of grey in her fur. She rubbed a hand over her temples, and muttered, "I never thought I'd be so happy to see such an idiot."

"Funny how those sorts of things work out, isn't it?"

She smiled, then released him. She turned away, and walked quickly over to her desk. One again, Isaac noticed how much more proper she looked. Whereas before, there had always been a bit of disorder about her robes, they were now perfectly pressed and wrinkle free. Her step was more careful, and her eyes had a searching quality to them. She searched around the desk for a moment, grasping with her hands. They finally closed around something, and she held up a pair of small, wire-rimmed glasses, pressing them onto her face. She blinked a few time, then nodded.

"Ever since Nutsy contacted me I've been getting my things ready," she explained, nodding to a thick leather folder which was on the very top of the desk. It was filled to bursting with papers, all of them shoved in at odd angles. Eileen walked over to one bookcase and began running a hand along the spines, searching. "There shouldn't be many problems when I go; everybody will accept the kidnapping story." She grabbed one book down, and tucked it under her arm, searching for one more.

"We should be quick, kupo," Lini urged, looking to the door. "It shouldn't take them long to look here."

"Don't worry, I'll be fast. Ah, here it is." She pulled one more book, and returned to the desk, placing the two books on top of the folder. She reached underneath the desk and pulled out a bag, shoving the documents into it. "I couldn't move these books, or else somebody would have noticed—"

It was at this moment that the doors of the study burst open, and somebody rushed in, yelling, "Lady Greatspell!"

Everybody turned to stare at the young nu mou who had just walked in. His robes were rumpled and he was clearly sweating. His chest heaved as he stared first at Eileen, and then the other three gathered in the room.

"...ah," Eileen muttered. "Adrian. I hadn't expected you to figure it out and get here so soon."

"You can't leave, Lady Greatspell," the young nu mou declared. His face was desperate; the blue eyes wide and his mouth still hanging open as he panted. "Who's going to lead us if you're not here?"

"Sean is more than ready to be Greatspell," Eileen muttered. She turned away from him, going back to packing things into her bag. "Not to mention, he's got Emma and Simon with him in case he needs anything. The three of them wi—"

"That's not what I mean." The youth was almost yelling. His face was visibly red even beneath the short layer of fur. "They don't have the connections or the experience that you do. Besides, who will teach me?"

"I've had it set up so that Master Greaves will take care of your magic. You'll learn more from him than you ever would have from me; I'm not the best teacher."

"But Lady Grea—"

"Adrian!" she snapped, rounding on him and glaring. The young Alchemist stopped in his tracks, swallowing and staring at her. She held his gaze for a moment, then broke off and continued speaking. "I have other commitments which supersede these ones. Unfortunately, I can't teach you forever, and I never could. At current, your responsibility is to become as strong as possible. It won't be long before you're called out to lead the people of this city, and you had better be ready."

"...what?" Adrian asked, his eyes widening slightly at this mention.

Eileen sighed. Then she sat heavily at the chair behind her desk, and reached underneath the top. She fiddled around, and then there was a clicking noise. A door swung open in the wood, and she reached inside a rather large secret compartment. When she withdrew her hand, it was holding the Zeus Mace in all its splendour. Adrian stared at it as though it were made of pure gold.

"This is going to be yours one day," Eileen explained, staring at him. "You had better be ready to wield it."

"Me?" he asked.

"Yes. Every generation, there are those who are demanded to wield these weapons. I'm the current bearer of the Zeus Mace. These two," she indicated Isaac and Maxwell, "hold the Materia Blades. The other moogle used to wield one of the Materia Blades. You will one day join our ranks, and if you don't do us well, mister Jewett, I promise that I'll find some sort of fitting punishment. Now go, I have things to do."

Adrian looked as though he were about to complain, but stopped, and instead simply swallowed again. He nodded, and said, "Goodbye, Lady Greatspell."

"Goodbye, future Lord Greatspell."

The younger nu mou bowed slightly, and, after casting a quick frightened glance towards each of the other three in the room, left.

Everything was silent as Eileen finished shoving things into the bag, then grabbed a sealed envelope and laid it on top of the desk. She took a deep breath, and sat back in her chair for a moment.

"Are you alright, kupo?" Isaac asked, stepping forward.

"Yeah, of course I am," she whispered. She closed her eyes for a moment, took another breath, and opened them. "Let's go. They'll come searching soon."

A/N: Ahoy, y'all. So, I'm holding a tiny bit of a contest. It's already been unofficially running since the first chapter after the time skip, and will be finishing next chapter. Now, you all will have noticed that all of my main four remaining characters have their own little entourages. Well, if you look at the names of the members of their groups, they are all the names of either band members or songs of several of my favourite bands. So, in short, the first person to PM me or write a review containing the names of the four bands (one each for Isaac, Maxwell, Eileen and Ben) after next chapter comes out wins a prize which I will send you the details of. Also, a small note, Lance doesn't count as one of the names in the band associated with Maxwell. That's a special case.

And no, my prize has no monetary value, as I'm cheap, and it is not storyline secrets, because without a doubt I would alter events before I got to whatever secret I'd revealed.

Finally, I apologize to everybody who wrote me reviews last chapter. Due to both my computer disliking me and me getting probably a grand total of about thirty hours of sleep over the past two weeks, I didn't respond to any. I swear that I'll get to replying soon, and if not then I'll reply to both in your next review or make it up somehow. Very, very sorry!


	74. Reunion

There was a screeching as the two blades rang off of each other. Lini's eyes widened somewhat as the Avuir Red was pushed back about an inch from its defensive position. However, beyond this small twitch, there was no flaw.

"You've gotten better, kupo," Lini murmured. She pulled her blade away from his and sheathed it. She looked down at her sweaty palms, and grinned. "A lot better."

"I would hope so, kupo," Isaac replied. His chest was heaving, his brown fur darker with sweat. He replaced the blade in its sheath with a shaking paw. "It would have been a disappointment to fight all of those pirates and not learn anything, kupo."

Lini leaned back against the trunk of a towering tree as Isaac began gathering the rest of his equipment and slinging it on. He couldn't wait to get back to their camp and get a drink. On top of practising with Lini, the late spring heat was painfully hot. He looked over to the other mogknight as he buckled the Avuir Blue to his belt, and felt his cheeks reddening as he saw that she was staring at him.

He stood up straight, rolling his shoulders back a bit. "What is it, kupo?"

"You've been quiet ever since we found the other two, kupo."

"I was trying quite hard to be quiet beforehand, kupo."

"You know what I mean," Lini said, rolling her eyes. "At least you would speak to me a bit. Now, though, you don't say a word."

Isaac sighed, then jerked his head towards camp. She nodded, and they began walking.

"It's just odd, kupo," the moogle explained.

"Odd?"

"They keep acting like..." he stopped, and got a strange look on his face.

"Yes...?"

"...like nothing happened, kupo."

She made an odd noise, and Isaac glanced sharply over at her. He just caught the slight upward curve of her lips as she forced herself into a straight face. "What did you expect of them, kupo?"

"I don't know," he said, shrugging. "I had expected some kind of... hostility, kupo? Or at least a bit of recognition of what I've done."

"To be honest, Isaac, I strongly doubt that either of them really care about that."

"Kupopo?"

Lini sighed, then reached up to rub her temple. "Just ask them yourself. You still haven't even tried to find out from Eileen what happened in Cyril."

"To tell the truth, after everything I've learned about Ivalice over the past few years, I don't think I want to know."

Lini shook her head. "Look, Isaac, I'm very sorry to say this, but you've been drawn into this wheth—"

"I know!" he interrupted. "I don't plan to shirk my responsibilities, alright; I never have. I just don't know if I'm ready, kupo."

There was silence as the two of them walked on for a few moments, the tension in the air palpable. However, when Lini finally spoke, it was very quiet.

"I think that you would feel much more ready if you were willing to open up to the people who care about you, kupo."

Isaac didn't reply. He simply kept on walking in silence until they reached their camp.

It had taken them just over a week to reach the outskirts of the Koringwood. They had mainly had to take back roads and forest paths to go there, because the main roads were too 

carefully watched. Eileen and Maxwell were speaking as though they'd never been separated. The two discussed politics, and strategies they'd each employed over the years, and, most disturbing to Isaac, their memories of St Ivalice.

The sound of water running over stone alerted Isaac that they had reached the camp. The two tents were still set up from the night before, and they blocked Isaac's view of the river. The two moogles stepped around their shelters and finally saw Eileen.

She was hunched over, her hands splayed out and held about two inches away from each other. A brilliant orange light was building in between the two, so intense that both of the moogles had to shelter their eyes as they approached.

When they were no more than five steps away, the alchemist glanced up, her eyes widening. The light instantly disappeared, and she shook her hands out.

"Sorry about that!" she said, her hand going to rub the ring on her left hand. "I forget to pay attention while I'm doing that sometimes."

"Where's Maxwell, kupo?" Lini asked, removing the Avuir Red and laying it on the ground.

"He left a while ago to see if he could find any trace of Ben," Eileen explained, gesturing her hand off towards the trees. She snorted. "Good luck to him."

"I have to speak with him," she replied. "Would you two mind watching the camp, kupo?"

"I was thinking of going to the market and getting something to eat, actually," Eileen muttered, stretching her neck out, "but if you insist..."

"Thanks." She nodded to them, then walked off into the trees.

Isaac watched Lini leaving, then turned to glance at Eileen. She was eying him, and Isaac realised that it was with unease. It was the first time that the two of them had been alone together since the party had picked her up. Realising this, Isaac's throat went dry. Lini had done this on purpose.

"So..." Eileen said, drumming her fingers very obviously on the log she was using as a chair. "You seem to have held up pretty well."

"Yeah, kupo. We, uh, we get a lot of exercise in the sky."

She nodded, her fingers making a bit more noise.

"So, uh..." Isaac looked down at the ground. "Most awkward conversation ever, kupo?"

"Probably," she nodded, a small grin crossing her face. "Tell me, is your paw still as disgusting as it was three years ago?"

Before he could react, Isaac felt a flinch running through him. However, he paused in the middle, seeing her surprised expression. Before she could ask him about the reaction, Isaac said the first thing he thought of.

"Do you want to see it, kupo?"

Eileen eyed him curiously, then muttered, "Sure."

Isaac, not quite sure why he was doing it, reached down to pull his right sleeve up somewhat. He grabbed the fingers of the glove and tugged hard at it. The leather came off of his fur, and Isaac lifted his limb up to let her see.

Eileen stepped closer to the moogle, staring at his paw. She glanced up to him, then asked, "Do you mind?"

"Sure."

She reached forward, her fingers brushing lightly over the scar on the back of his paw. Then, she turned it around and felt the scar on the other side. Her hands were shaking somewhat as they stroked his furless paw.

"That's three years of healing, too..." she muttered, shaking her head.

"I don't normally show it to anybody," the moogle said suddenly.

Her eyes went up to look into his. "Why?"

"I don't know, kupo. It reminds me of... well, it."

"You really _have_ been running for the past few years, haven't you?"

"I guess so, kupo."

Isaac pulled his hand away and rubbed it gingerly, then began sliding the glove back onto it. Then, he shook his arm out so that the sleeve dropped down and hid the entire thing from view.

"Besides, kupo," he said suddenly, standing up straight. "I don't think that it would be good for my crew to see me like that."

"How so?"

"Well, I'm their leader. So long as they think that I can't be taken down, then they'll have hope. I can't just go around showing off a massive scar to them, kupo."

Eileen leaned forward slowly, a smile widening on her face. "Why, Isaac the Mogknight, I think you might just be acting like a hero."

Isaac's throat became dry. She was so close to him. Their faces couldn't have been more than an inch apart. He opened his mouth for a moment to speak, but no noise came out. He stuttered for a few more instants, and finally managed to speak.

"Hey, Eileen?"

"Yes?"

Isaac cleared his throat, then leaned back as casually as he could, muttering, "What _did_ happen in Cyril, kupo?"

Or, in other words, he chickened out.

"Oh, that." Eileen leaned back as well, and her eyes focused somewhere faraway. "Long story. Not to mention, I can't tell you everything. Lots happened."

"What do you know?"

"Well, that was just after the judges had split with the palace," she explained, sitting up straighter and assuming a pose which Isaac guessed was for lecturing. "Bartholemue had just passed the title of Greatspell over to me officially, and most of the Third Eyes didn't accept me at that time. Then, I received a message from Clan Nutsy saying that they'd received information about a planned attack on Cyril by the palace. After Sprohm, they were terrified that another totema would break loose and fuse with its species. Of course, the only totema left that hasn't been set loose is Mateus. So, they figured that if they were to round up all of the humans and keep them from accessing any powerful abilities, Mateus might not choose to join with them. I got as many mages together as I could and headed over there. I figured that we would finish up the situation pretty quickly and then circle back around to help Maxwell with Muscadet.

"When we got there, though, things went a bit crazy. The palace came to Cyril in full force. It was incredible. Every single one of their higher ranked officers came. Marche managed to get Clans Dip and the Sprohm Knights to help out with defending, but all of the members of Dip got either wiped out or arrested by the end of the second day. About half of the population of Cyril had been arrested by the end of the first week. We did what we could to hold 

off the palace's forces while the other half evacuated. We don't know where most of them went; we were too focused with getting them out to care about where they were headed. They probably got arrested anyways; the palace was doing a lot of sweeps around the area at that time.

"We were there for about three weeks in total; don't ask me for many details, because I was too exhausted from magic use to remember much. But on the last day, it was just Clan Nutsy, thirty mages, Ezel, Lini and I left. The Sprohm Knights had left earlier with one of the larger groups of refugees to help them out. There were about ten thousand people left who had to evacuate, and we knew that we couldn't hold out for another day. So, we decided to make a last stand while they got out."

Eileen stopped for a moment, then glanced over to Isaac. "Do you know of the mage Babus Swain, the Runeseeker?"

"Yes," Isaac muttered. "He's the prince's personal guard, right?"

"Exactly. Ezel, Bartholemue and I ended up in a duel with him and couple other palace mages. And it was dangerous, too, because for some reason by that time it was only possible to open up one engagement field at a time, and we let the others have that one. See this?" she asked, reaching down to pull up the sleeve of her robe. There was a missing patch of fur with a burn scar underneath. Isaac's eyes widened as he stared at it. "That's from trying to fully block one of Babus' spells with just my magic. We realised that we were going to die if we kept fighting like that, so Bartholemue..." she stopped. She didn't make any physical reaction, but simply remained silent for a moment. Then, she said, "He overloaded his magic and more or less pulled a self-destruct to cover Ezel and I as we were retreating back to Clan Nutsy. That one blast of magic took out about a twentieth of the city."

Isaac's eyes widened as he thought of the size of Cyril. He'd had no idea of how powerful Bartholemue was. That Alchemist had probably been on par with the wielders of Ultima.

"When we got back to where we were supposed to meet Nutsy, everybody but Marche, Robert, and Lini had retreated with the refugees. Lini was holding back a unit of the guard while Marche and Robert were fighting against the palace's new military leader. While you've been travelling, have you heard of Llednar Twem?"

Isaac flinched at the name, gasping, "The Biskmatar?"

"The Biskmatar," Eileen confirmed. "Robert and Marche together were barely a match for him. It wasn't human. Eventually, Llednar managed to trip Marche up. There was a judge present, but we all knew that if somebody went down, we would have to leave them behind until they woke up. So, Robert jumped in front of Llednar's attack." Eileen shuddered suddenly. "It wasn't a normal attack. I can't explain it to you Isaac; it didn't make any sense what happened. He just suddenly yelled out 'Omega,' and then he tore through the engagement field. He hit Robert and killed him."

"Killed him, kupo?" Isaac demanded. "As in actually _killed_ him?"

"Yes. Llednar managed to kill him inside of an engagement. It was horrifying. However, the attack tired him out, so he had to fall back. Lini, Ezel, Marche and I got out of there as fast as we could and met up with Clan Nutsy in Cadoan. We spoke with the Judgemaster Cid later, and he said that so much intense magic had been used there over such a short time that engagement fields wouldn't open anymore; it was a jagd. That was when Ezel and Lini decided to join Nutsy, and I became their secret informant in Cadoan. We knew that supervision would start soon, so I took up the post of Greatspell until they needed me. Babus 

was the only person from the palace left alive who knew that I'd been there, but he didn't betray me. And that's everything that happened at Cyril, as far as I know."

Isaac nodded slowly, his eyes resting upon his friend. "You guys have gone through a lot, kupo."

She looked up at him, her eyes somewhat hard. "Yes, we have. How about you, up in the sky?"

"I've had a few adventures..."

"Right..." she nodded. "Anything like fighting a war?"

Isaac stared at her. What was she getting at? "I don't know, kupo. Like I said, there were a few adventures."

Eileen nodded, then glanced up suddenly behind Isaac. The moogle turned to see what she was looking at and saw the short white form of Lini and Maxwell's towering figure emerging from the trees.

"There doesn't seem to be anybody nearby," Maxwell declared, giving his spear an easy twirl in his hand. "We should probably set out."

Isaac and Eileen nodded. The four set about taking the camp apart, packing things up as quickly as they could. They had taken to travelling only in the afternoon and early night-time, as that was the safest. They managed to get all of their gear packed within a few minutes, and then they set off, being sure to keep close beside the river. It had been their guide since they'd entered the forest, helping them to remain straight. Normally, they would have relied on a path or the position of the sun to help them through, however, the path was too dangerous, and the sun was blocked out most of the time by the canopy above them. All they received was pale green light filtered down through the leaves; nowhere near enough to navigate by.

As the four continued walking, they began finding that the river was growing wide and also curving a bit. At first, this didn't concern them, but soon it became clear that the river would be turning them back the way they had come.

After about four hours of walking, they stopped, Lini holding up their hand to halt them. "Alright, this is ridiculous, kupo. We're going to have to cross."

"There may be a problem with that," Eileen pointed out.

"Kupopo?"

"Well, it's fine for you and Isaac to fly, and Maxwell can jump, but I'm not exactly steady enough on my feet to cover that," she said, gesturing towards the river. It was now extremely wide; at least thirty metres across, and running fast. Everyone turned to look at it, taking in their problem.

"Right..." Lini murmured. "Ideas, anybody?"

"I'll deal with it," Isaac offered. Before anybody could stop him, he had drawn out the Materia Blade, and was stepping into the water. He dipped the weapon into the river so that his body was sheltering it from the current. Then, he took a long deep breath, and concentrated.

A blue mist began rising from the small bit of the blade which wasn't submerged. Isaac began walking forward, and wherever he went, his blade left a thin trail of ice. The other three stared as the brown moogle advanced, his stepping sure, across the river. His feet didn't slip once, nor did his control over the ice falter.

When Isaac reached the far side of the river, he pulled the blade out of the river and replaced it in its sheath, glancing over his back towards the river. Stretching across it was a perfect line of ice, not deep enough to block the river, but large enough to keep from being by the water's current.

"Use that as a handrail, kupo," he called across, turning to face them fully. The other three nodded, and stepped into the water.

It was as they were crossing the river that it happened.

Isaac was watching them, his eyes monitoring their steps for slipping. However, he straightened up suddenly, and his ears twitched. A moment later, he spun around, his paw going to the hilt of his weapon. The Materia Blade sprung from his back, and metal rang out off of metal.

Eileen, Maxwell and Lini looked up upon hearing this, and their eyes widened. On the opposite side of the river, Isaac was holding a pair of sabres at bay with his weapon. These two weapons were held by a tall figure in a long, brown cloak who stood glaring down at him. A hood blocked much of his face; the only discernable features were a few long strands of red hair and two, glowing blue orbs for eyes.

"Ben?" Eileen whispered.

"So I'd assume," Maxwell growled, nodding forward. "Let's move!"

Even as Maxwell said it, Ben and Isaac disengaged their weapons from each other, jumping backwards to put some distance between them. They came back together, and Ben swept one weapon across. Isaac parried it, then drew the blade back, ducking under a swipe from the second sabre. He jumped backwards, and his blade came out vertically before him, predicting an attack.

Ben, however, appeared to have disappeared. Isaac glanced around, gripping his weapon tighter, but the Blue mage was nowhere to be seen. He turned in a slow circle, raising the blade and cocking back the hammer of the attachment with his thumb.

"How long until you guys get over here, kupo?" he asked. His voice was monotone, betraying nothing.

"You go ahead, Lini," Eileen muttered, shaking her head as she slipped again. The bottom half of her robes were soaked with river water. "I'll take too long."

"Alright," Lini said, nodding to Maxwell. She let go of Eileen's arm, and then turned, walking purposefully through the water towards Isaac.

The male moogle fidgeted, then turned and pulled the trigger on the hilt of his blade. As soon as the bullet was off, Isaac threw himself to the side, hitting the ground and rolling. Ben landed kneeling right next to him, the two sabres stabbed into the ground. He stood up quickly, both blades pulling out. He twirled with both sabres extended, letting them revolve about him. Isaac stepped back carefully, ducking the occasional swipe as Ben spun ever closer to him. Ben stopped his rotations suddenly, facing him. He dropped the two weapons at once and dove forward, red fur covering his hands.

Isaac's head turned and he staggered back violently. He reached up and wiped the dark, warm liquid from his fur. He glanced up and jumped back again, ducking underneath another attack.

The moogle found himself staggering as he went back, completely off-balance. He was unused to this type of combat. In the skies, all of his fighting had always been against other pirates; not monsters. He seemed to have forgotten how to fend off beasts.

As Isaac ducked under another attack, he felt his heel catch on a tree root. He tried to put his feet back under him, but he was too late. He tripped over backwards, smashing hard onto the earth. He looked up just in time for a fist to catch him in the face. Even as he was crying out, a hand was grabbing him by the front of his shirt and wrenching him up. Isaac's eyes managed to 

focus again in time to see the claw covered paw raised above Ben's head, prepared to drop. Isaac closed his eyes.

The next few moments seemed to take an eternity. Suddenly, he heard a scuffling, and then he was falling back again. He hit the earth, and an instant later, he heard something else smashing into the ground a few feet away. His eyes snapped open, and he looked around.

Lini was standing above him, the Avuir Red out of its sheath. Not far away, Ben was sprawled across the ground with a large welt along his face. The hood seemed to have been thrown off during his fall, and so Isaac saw Ben's new face for the first time.

It was different; quite noticeably so. Whereas before his hair had been an average shade of brown, it was now extremely bright red through and through. It was so bright that it shone even in the dim light which the canopy allowed through. Even more shocking than that, though, were his eyes. Even though they were currently half-lidded, they emitted a pale blue light. The first thing that it reminded Isaac of when he saw it was the way that the eyes of those who used Black magic turned yellow. However, that was caused by the extreme strain placed upon the body by controlling chaos. It should have been nearly impossible for a Blue mage to use that much energy...

His thoughts were interrupted when Lini spoke. "Well, Ben, we were afraid that we would have to look all over the forest for you; how lucky that you decided to pay us a visit, kupo."

Ben glared up at her, his unnatural blue eyes seeming to focus on hers. "Why are you here, and why did you bring _him_?"

"_I'm_ the one who'll ask questions from here on in, kupo," she reminded him, giving the Avuir Red a slight wave. "But I'll answer you. Firstly, we're here because we knew that this was the one place you were most likely to be. As to why I brought him, well, he's not the only person I brought."

She glanced over her shoulder and gave a slight nod. Ben moved slightly so he could look around her, and his eyes widened. Eileen and Maxwell were just arriving at the shore, the bangaa supporting the nu mou. For a moment, his face was confused. Then, he became angry again.

"What do you thinking you're doing here, especially with them?"

"I told you that I'd ask the questions," Lini muttered.

"Since when did I take orders from you?" he growled, and it was a true growl. All four of the others flinched slightly upon hearing it; there was nothing human in that voice. "Tell me why you're here or else, whether you three hold me back or not, I'll tear his throat out." His eyes shot over to Isaac, and the moogle felt a shiver running up his spine.

Lini opened her mouth to reply, but Eileen stepped around her suddenly, walking towards Ben. "That's fair, I guess. You deserve to know why you're here. You two do, as well," she said, turning to glance at Isaac and Maxwell. "Well, now that we're all together, I can explain it."

"Explain what?" Maxwell asked. There was a somewhat worried look on his face.

"I've been researching the past few years; and I've found out some things which you all should know. Also, there are a few things that I withheld from all of you before... before Sprohm... and you all deserved to know it. I'm sorry for keeping all of it to myself."

The other three stared at her throughout this odd speech. She kept her head down, staring at her feet. Her hands were clenched tightly at her sides, so tightly that they were shaking. Finally, Ben asked, his voice strangely soft, "What are you talking about?"

"I know how to bring back Jacqueline."

They all reacted differently. Isaac simply stopped breathing, and the Materia Blade slipped from his grasp. Maxwell glanced up and stared at her, his mouth moving without making any noise. Ben however, took it the best. He simply nodded once, and then focused those terrifying eyes on the alchemist.

"How?"

Eileen took a deep breath. Then, she whispered, "Don't interrupt me, and don't ask me how I know; I'll explain it. But, in short, we have to destroy this world."

A/N: Good number of sorries. Firstly, due to this chapter being unexpectedly long, I decided to break it into two, so the last clues for my mini-almost-pseudo-whatever contest thingy aren't in this one. Also, I apologize that it took me so ridiculously long to write this. Life and I need to start organising our schedules so that there's more time for writing. Anyways, sorry!


	75. Avatars

There was silence in the clearing in the wake of Eileen's words. Isaac, Maxwell and Ben were all had their eyes focused on her, each one studying her face. They all knew, in some way, how her mind worked, and that even on her more insane ideas she was correct more often than not.

"Destroy this world?" Maxwell was the one to finally break the silence. "How do you mean?"

"Listen to me, and please don't interrupt me until I'm finished. You probably won't believe me, but that doesn't matter. I should have told all of you a long time ago. Ben," she turned to face the Blue mage squarely. "Do you remember when you stole my map from me when we'd first arrived in this world?"

"Of course," Ben nodded. There was a bite of impatience in his voice.

"You looked at it, naturally, and I'd guess you noticed the same thing that I did."

"What?"

"All of Ivalice's main cities are located in the same relative location as the appropriate district of our town. All of them. I mean, if you were to lay out a map of St Ivalice over a map of Ivalice, our high school would be exactly where Cadoan is now."

"What does that have to do with Jacqueline?" The annoyance in Ben's voice was growing. "I can't see how geography can—"

"Give me a second; I'm getting there. That pattern with the cities repeats itself. In fact, Koringwood is in the same relative location as Balsam Park in St Ivalice. That lead me to look a bit more closely at everything. It seems that St Ivalice is just a scaled down version of Ivalice, in every possible aspect. Whatever happened to change our hometown into this place, all it did was increase everything's size exponentially."

"But then why is it that we're here, and not just a bunch of lumbering giants?" Maxwell asked. He looked genuinely interested, almost as though he was listening to a particularly good ghost story.

"That's what I was getting to," Eileen muttered. "Uh, well, here it is, and don't laugh me down for it. The mass of each individual's body did increase on the same scale as the rest of the world; however, there was one thing which couldn't be exaggerated in the same way as the rest of the physical world."

Eileen fell silent, and looked down at her feet. She raised a hand as though she were about to speak again, but hesitated, and dropped it.

"What is it?" Ben demanded.

"The soul," Eileen stated.

Everyone gazed at her, eyes wide, and Ben even tilted his head slightly. They all began to take breaths to speak, but Eileen held her hands up and began speaking quickly.

"Hear me out. A soul is one thing we don't understand and never will; it has no physical evidence to support its existence. And, so, how can something with no actual physical mass have its mass increased? So, instead of being increased in size, each individual's soul was fractioned into many different pieces. Let's call these pieces fractions. Each fraction had a different aspect of the original individual's personality, emotions and memories exaggerated to compensate for any pieces missing from the original. Then, these fractions were each given a body, which was simply a manifestation of the original person's body, multiplied like the soul was. Much like the soul, each one of these new bodies was enhanced and lessened in some ways to compensate. However, the bodies, for some reason, tended to fraction along five distinct paths."

"The races?" Isaac asked.

"Exactly. Then, a fraction soul was placed with each body. This means that every citizen of St Ivalice has several hundred if not thousand different versions of themselves wandering around in Ivalice, each one exemplifying a different one of their qualities." She looked up awkwardly at them. "Are you guys following me so far?"

There was silence for a few seconds after she said this. Then, Ben muttered, "Okay, so, assuming that your theory is at all right, I still don't see the relevance to Jacqueline."

"Right," Eileen nodded. "Well, like I said, everything in Ivalice is just an extreme exaggeration of something in St Ivalice. That probably would extend to actions. So—and this is only theory, you understand!—it's possible that what was a stab through her chest here in Ivalice is only a scratch in St Ivalice."

They eyed her carefully, all of them slowly grasping at what it meant. Isaac spoke first. "Meaning that if we were to destroy this world, kupo, everything would return back to how it was in St Ivalice, and Jacqueline wouldn't have died!"

"It's just theory, though!" Eileen exclaimed, seeing the other three's eyes widening. "I've spoken with Marche, Montblanc and Lini." She nodded to the mogknight. "It's completely possible that if we destroy this world, it will mean just that; we've destroyed this world and murdered billions of people in the process. It's incredibly high-risk."

"Still, it seems likely, though!" Ben's eyes were wide, and they were showing far more life than they had been since he'd appeared. He began pacing. "That means that if we can find the last Worldthread and break it, then the world will go back, an—"

"One question." Everyone stopped upon hearing Maxwell's tone. They turned to glance at him, and saw that he had one hand raised in the air, as though asking a teacher if he had permission to speak. His eyes were piercing as he spoke. "I'm not saying that I disbelieve your theory, Eileen; it seems quite possible. However, it doesn't explain one thing. You said that a person's soul would be fractured and divided so that no memories of the old world would be wholly intact. Well, then," he glanced around. "How do you explain us?"

Eileen sighed, her eyes closing. They saw the skin pull in as she bit the inside of her lip. She ran one hand through her thick white hair, and muttered. "Of course you noticed that, Maxwell. I thought it would be you. Well, here's the part that I should have told you guys three years ago. When I summoned Ultima to attack the Worldwyrm, It spoke to me. I can't tell you what It said to me; truth be told, I don't know if It was speaking English. But I knew that I had to find It and get It to explain things to me. So, I did. That's what I was doing while you were all off having your adventures. I found out where Ultima lay, and I sought It out. What It told me..."

She sighed again, kicking at the dirt beneath her feet. She glanced up, and for some reason her eyes came to rest on Isaac for a few short moments. Then, she went on.

"We're not like most of the people who came here. In a sense, the Totema were already in existence before Ivalice was created; they were a piece of the natural belief which lies in all living creatures. So, when they were brought into Ivalice, they, like everything else, were exaggerated. Or the belief in them, at least. They couldn't yet take a physical form; they existed only in the mental plane. They realised that they needed to find forms in which they could manifest themselves on the physical planes.

"Now, these forms would have to be living creatures, and they would have to embody more than anybody what that Totema represented. They would have to be as purely Human, Nu Mou, Bangaa, Vierra and Moogle as possible. They looked for these creatures, and they found us."

"What?" Ben snapped.

"I know, it seems bizarre. But it's the only possible explanation. Our souls were already near-perfect embodiments of our races; just think of it. Maxwell, you were the best athlete our town had ever seen. Isaac is better with his hands than a lot of recognized carpenters and mechanics. Ben, you're great at just slipping your way into any group and getting along with about anybody. I, at the risk of sounding arrogant, am the smartest student in our school. And Jacqueline, well, she was a beautiful athlete who could read anybody within a few minutes of meeting them. We match up with our races perfectly. So, when we were being brought over from St Ivalice, the Totema protected us from most of the effects of the change. Instead of being split into a few thousand different people, we remained the way we were. Our bodies and abilities were all enhanced, and we gained an extra little thing, too: the power to bond with the Totema."

"Then when Jacqueline...?"

"Yes. That was her unlocking that part of her which connected her to Exodus. We all have some way in which we can connect to our Totema, though most of us won't know of it until we actually use it or need it."

"So what you're saying," Ben said, his voice very tight, "is that each of us is just going to explode like Jacqueline one day? That each one of us will go on a rampage and massacre thousands of people until somebody manages to—"

"No," Eileen said, her voice hard. "Nothing like that. From what I can discern of the events surrounding what happened in Sprohm, that was a result of a compound of things. We know that at the time, Jacqueline was feeling extreme rage towards those guards. She wanted to defend Isaac, and she understood that she didn't have the strength to do it. She was grasping for any kind of power she could draw from herself.

"Then there's Exodus. According to Marche, it was existing as a parasite at the time. Unlike the other Totema, which simply stood guard around the Worldthreads, Exodus was actually drawing its power from the Worldthread and then using that to build a massive defence around it. Marche had just managed to destroy that power source. So, Exodus was in an aggravated state, and it was also grasping for power.

"Now, they already had a bond between the two of them. When the remains of Exodus passed through the rip which Marche, Babus and Cid used to return to Sprohm, that bond was reawakened. The two of them, already counterparts, felt along the bond and felt another being with the same thoughts as it; helplessness, rage, and a need for power. When they actually joined, these three base emotions took over, and Exodus began flailing out at anything and drawing as much energy as it could from the world around it. Jacqueline provided a physical anchor, and, at the beginning at least, she needed that power to help defend Isaac and the rest of us. However, soon, both of them completely lost control over their rage, and they began perceiving everything as an enemy. The result..."

Eileen stopped suddenly at a look from Max. She had been speaking for the most part without paying attention to those around her for the last few minutes, lost as she was in her subject. However, now she followed the bangaa's gaze first to Ben and then to Isaac. Ben was glaring across the small clearing at the moogle, who had his head lowered and was clenching and unclenching his fist. Maxwell gave her another look, and she nodded quickly, understanding.

"In short, we'll probably have more control when we go off. If we go off, that is. Of course, it would take an extreme emergency for one of us to make a connection to our Totema in such a way. I mean, the physical and emotional stress that it woul—"

"If you'll excuse my interruption," Maxwell stated, drawing everybody's gaze to him. "I believe that I already have 'gone off,' as you put it."

Eileen and the other three stared at him. She spoke first. "How do you mean?"

Maxwell cast his gaze about him, his eyes scanning the landscape. They came to land on a rather large boulder which was lying on the ground, half-covered in moss. A small smirk crossed his face, and he murmured, "Stand back."

Isaac, Ben, Eileen and Lini moved until they stood behind him, all the while watching Maxwell carefully. Once they were safely out of his way, Maxwell sucked in an extremely deep breath, leaning his body back.

Then, he lunged his torso forward, opening his mouth, and a torrent of flame of intense brightness ripped from his mouth.

All four of the others raised their hands over their eyes to shield them, and Isaac, who stood closest to the bangaa, took a step back. A roaring filled their ears, and all of them were terrified to learn that it wasn't just the flames; it was also Maxwell's voice adding in with the cacophony. Heat washed over them in a wave, so much so that Isaac, Lini and Eileen's clothes all dried instantly from the river water, and Ben's face turned a bright red colour. The flames seemed to just come and come, never slacking or letting up at all. Maxwell must have stood there, shooting fire from his mouth for about a full minute, before he finally closed his mouth again. He staggered, and began sucking in deep breaths.

As he did this, the other four stared at the remains of the boulder. Leading up to it there was a smouldering black path, and it was clear to see that there was a depression over where the flames had passed. The stone itself was essentially gone. There was simply a giant black stain along the landscape, with a few puddles of what looked like cooling magma. There was a small platform of stone where the boulder had been, and even this had that incandescent colour.

"Since when could you do that?" Eileen demanded, her head tilting to stare at Maxwell.

The dragoon sucked in several deep breaths, then glanced up at them from his position on the ground. "Isaac, do you remember when I summoned Adrammalech to free you from the tower while Exodus was attacking?"

"Barely," the moogle said, his eyes scrunching up in his attempt to remember. "All I remember was that there was a bunch of light, and then I was standing by the hole, and you were collapsing. Why?"

"Adrammalech spoke to me when I summoned It. It told me that I would receive a gift, just like the other four. But, my gift would be different from the others." He shrugged. "I had no idea what that meant at the time, but now I think I do."

"Excuse me?"

"Adrammalech is changing me partially into a dragon."

"What?" Ben demanded. "Is that even possible?"

"It makes sense, though," Eileen whispered. The others looked to her, and it was clear in her eyes that the gears in her brain were turning. "Rumour and legend states that bangaas descended from the original dragons; that's why they can biologically replicate dragon abilities. It could be that Adrammalech, the greatest dragon, save for Bahamut and Tiamat, is giving his avatar the gift of reversing evolution back slightly and putting you in closer contact with those dragons. Can you do anything aside from that breath attack?"

"Well, my skin is much tougher now."

"How so?"

"While I was fighting in Muscadet three bangaa from the attackers snuck upon me while I was unarmed and I wasn't wearing my armour. I have a few scars from that, but those are all. That, and my muscle strength is much greater than it was three years ago."

"That covers most of a dragon's trademark tendencies," Eileen nodded.

"While this is fascinating," Ben interrupted, "I don't see how it's helping us. So, what do you want the three of us for?"

"I can answer that for her," Lini spoke up. They all jumped; they had forgotten her presence in the wake of their conversation. Now she walked into the middle of their circle and turned slowly, facing each one for a moment at a time. "Recently, Clan Nutsy received a report which reveals the likely location of the final Worldthread. If we could get to it and destroy it, then the world would probably turn back, kupo. The problem is that the palace has also noticed this abnormality, and they managed to reach the location first. There's quite a strong contingent of guards there waiting for us. In short, we need somebody to hold off the guards as the rest of Clan Nutsy takes on Mateus."

"Why can't the other members of Nutsy cover that?" Ben asked. "From what my intelligence tells me, you guys have grown quite large."

"Right now, Nutsy is spread out all over Ivalice, kupo. We have to keep an eye on the situation everywhere, just in case something springs up. Now, to fight on par against those guards, it would require a small and elite group who are experts at fighting alongside each other. Most of the more competent warriors and adventures have either signed on with the palace or been arrested already, kupo; you four were the only option."

"Will the three of you do it?" Isaac, Maxwell and Ben glanced over to Eileen. She was biting her lip again, and her hands were shoved into the pockets of her robe. "Just so that you know, I'm going whether or not you decide to come. It's just that we've got a much greater chance of surviving if we all do this."

"I'm coming," Maxwell declared without hesitation. "I've been waiting since the battle in Muscadet for a real chance to show the palace that they aren't as powerful as they think."

Eileen nodded to him, then turned her gaze over to Isaac. The moogle realized that all of the other four were watching him, waiting for his action. He took a deep breath, and swallowed once. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. Finally, he simply looked over to Eileen and nodded his head once. "I'll do it, kupo."

A grateful smile crossed her face, and Isaac looked away from her as quickly as he could. The burning in his cheeks was painful. His eyes came to rest upon Lini, and when they did he saw something odd on her face. Lini's eyes were on Eileen, very critical and alarmed. They flicked over to Isaac, but when she saw that he was watching her, Lini's face went back to being an unreadable mask. The male moogle continued watching her for a moment, but Ben's voice drew his attention away.

"You've put me in a difficult place..." he muttered. His glowing eyes were focused somewhere far off. "I..." He stopped. Then, he glanced over to Isaac, and said, quite clearly, "I want to speak with the moogle. Alone."

Maxwell and Eileen both looked to Lini. She, in turn, gave Isaac a questioning expression. He shrugged, then nodded. Lini nodded back, and the three walked off through the trees.

Isaac and Ben stood in silence for about a minute after they left. Neither of them was looking at the other. Finally, Isaac opened his mouth.

"I—"

"No. Don't talk. This isn't a discussion. We aren't going to work out our problems and cry and make up or any of that crap. This is me telling you how this is going to work. Got that?"

Isaac looked up at Ben, stricken. The mage wasn't even looking at him, instead opting to keep his gaze firmly rooted on his own feet.

"Yeah, kupo, I get it."

"Good. You don't talk to me. You don't try to help me. I'm only agreeing to do this with you because I know that, whether I'd back her up on it or not, you were Jacqueline's friend and she'd want you to do this. However, outside of combat, I don't want to know that you exist. Do you understand me?"

Isaac breathed out sharply through his nose. "Fine."

A moment passed. "Good."

Isaac remained silent as Ben called the others back. Once they had returned, Ben rubbed his hands together and said, "I'll go, but I have a few things that I'll have to take care of before we go. Not to mention, we'll need supplies. So, I guess you guys will get to visit New Cyril."

Everyone glanced up at that. It was Lini who spoke.

"New Cyril?"

Ben glanced at them, and then a small smile crossed his face. "You've never heard of us? Don't tell me that we're _that_ good."

"What are you talking about, kupo?"

"Follow me. You'll see."

--

Roughly five hours later, they were still walking. Their pace had slowed drastically as the day wore on and Ben led them into deeper and deeper foliage. By the end of the third hour, Isaac was completely convinced that they were crossing ground that nobody had ever seen, let alone charted. There were no tracks anywhere, aside from the occasional set of paw or hoofprints in the deep undergrowth.

Gradually, though, they all realised that they were being watched. Whether it was the occasional shadow darting away from the corner of their eyes, or the slight prickling at the hairs on the back of their neck, they each had that odd sense of unease.

As the sun began setting, Lini, who was second in line after Ben, whispered, "Where are you taking us, kupo?"

"It won't be much further," the Blue mage stated, sniffing lightly at the air. "If you're wondering about the people watching us, don't worry. So long as you're with me they won't attack."

"So don't get separated?" Maxwell asked.

"Yeah, I wouldn't suggest it."

The five continued wandering through the heavy undergrowth for a while, before Ben came up abruptly. The others stopped behind him, trying to see what was happening.

A voice called out from ahead, suddenly. "Why did the concert end at noon?"

"That's when the audience died," Ben replied, his voice clear.

There was silence for a moment. Then, the first voice called again. "Alright, come on."

Ben glanced over his shoulder and nodded, then he started walking again. The others followed.

No more than five metres later, they stepped suddenly out of the brush, and into a large clearing. Isaac, who was last, found himself somewhat annoyed as, one after another, the others ahead of him paused for a moment before stepping out of the way.

"In the name of Ultima..." Eileen, who was just ahead of him, breathed, before he poked her in the back and she hurried out his way.

Isaac stepped out of the foliage, and his eyes widened as he stared up at the sight before him. There was a great hill, which was covered in criss-crossing trees and roots which obscured his vision a bit. Beyond this, at the top of the hill, there was a wall made of what appeared to be nothing but trees. These trees were somewhat shorter than the others, yet much stockier. They were pressed in so close to each other that they left no gaps; it was a living barrier with not a single flaw.

Everyone turned to look at Ben. He, however, wasn't looking at the wall. Instead, he was turning his gaze about him slowly, as though waiting for something. His eyes stopped wandering, suddenly, and fixed on one spot.

The others turned to look, and were shocked to see somebody walking towards them from, apparently, out of a tree. He was a human, probably in his mid-teens, with a greatbow held easily in his left hand. A full quiver of arrows was hanging off of his shoulder, and the telltale golden pin of a blue mage was stuck through the belt which held the quiver on. His clothing was mostly of dark browns and greens, but for an odd thing: one armband of red which was wrapped tightly around his left upper arm.

"Sir," the youth said, making a quick salute. "We were beginning to get concerned. You've been gone far longer than we'd expected."

"I've told you before that nothing in this forest will harm me, Owen. Besides, I noticed Win and Regine spying on me throughout the day," Ben said, shaking his head. "These are my... companions. They will be staying with us this evening."

"Yes sir," Owen nodded. He looked over the four newcomers, clearly sizing them up. His eyes widened considerably, however, when they fell upon the gold and silver hilts of Lini and Isaac's twin weapons, the golden eye which was emblazoned on Eileen's hat, and the scars on Maxwell's face.

"Is there a problem?" Ben asked, eying the hunter carefully.

"No sir! It's just that... well..." his eyes flicked over the four once again, before returning to his commander. "Aren't they...?"

"Yes," Ben nodded. "Yes they are."

"Then that means...?"

"Yes it does."

Owen nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Ben's. "Should I call together the council for an emergency meeting?"

"I'll attend to that. I'd like it if you led these four to their rooms."

"Of course, sir," Owen nodded again, and sent Ben another salute.

Without a word to the other four, Ben turned around and began walking towards the wall of trees. They were left little time to consider this odd behaviour before Owen turned to them and began speaking.

"Well, then," he said, sweeping his hand out towards the wall of trees. "I guess it's my duty to welcome you into New Cyril. If you'll just follow me..."

"Excuse me for interrupting," Lini said. "But why is it called 'New Cyril'?"

Owen looked at her oddly. "Well, where do you think all of the refugees that you and Nutsy managed to get out of Cyril went?"

"All of the refugees of Cyril are _here_?" Eileen asked incredulously.

"Yes," Owen nodded. "Ben and the rest of the protectors of the forest took us in a few years ago. Now, come on, sorry to rush, but I still have duties to attend to after I've shown you to your rooms."

With that, he turned and began heading up the hill. The other four, after exchanging bewildered looks, followed him quickly, none of them having any idea of what was going on.

--

A/N: Yeah, contest is open. Remember, the first PM/Review with ALL of the band names I get is the winner. It's a bit of a cheap move that I've pulled; the names in this chapter could refer to two possible bands. However, there was one song name mentioned which ought to explain it. Also, I'm going to try to leave fewer Author's Notes from now on, 'cause I've been doing it a lot lately, and it's probably starting to get some people PO'd. Finally, the issues the chapters have been having with paragraph spacing is because of uploading to FF. If I remember, I'll delete all the problems manually, like in this chapter, but I can't guarantee it.


	76. New Cyril

A/N: So, here are the answers to my contest, just to get that out of the way.

Isaac's Crew: The New Pornographers (imagine the stares I get whenever I mention that name (I swear that they're a non-dirty band!))

Maxwell's Red Dragons: Stars

Eileen's Alchemist Guild: The Most Serene Republic

Ben's Subordinates: Final Fantasy

It was the last one that caught most people; Owen Pallett, sole member of the one-man band Final Fantasy, tours with Win Butler and Regine Chassagne of Arcade Fire, yes, but he is not a member. He also has a song named "This is the Dream of Win and Regine" which is named for the lead members of Arcade Fire. The tip-off would have been the song name "That's When the Audience Died" which is from Final Fantasy. Anyways, as a result, Rushien-kun and the White Iguana won. I know I said there would be one winner, but Iguana got it in first, and I thought it would be suspect if my real-world friend won. So, I altered a few things and made both of them winners. Yay! Thanks to everybody who took part. It was a lot of fun. I hope nobody's crushed by the results/annoyed by the trick in the last one/ready to go into a murderous rage due to the copious number of author's notes involving the contest. Also, short chapter. Next will be _long_.

--

"This place has become somewhat of a beacon of hope for the humans," Owen explained as they walked through the makeshift town, nodding occasionally to people as they passed. It was an odd experience for the four companions; the trees had simply creaked and bent out of the way as Owen approached, and they'd made their way inside. What they had found there was beyond any of their expectations.

There were no roads; instead, there were simply path beaten down solely by foot passage in the wild growth. In the few dominating trees which were within the city, there were primitive tree houses and platforms built. Along the earth, small huts had been made, mostly from dead or scrap wood. The humans, and one or two bangaas, moogles, vierra and nu mous who lived there, all had a haggard look about them. Their clothes were all dirty, and they were all in pale shades of brown and green. In fact, the party was quite certain that they would miss any of them in a forest if they hadn't been paying attention. They all eyed the four as they passed, but a look from Owen would silence them. Some of the people carried weapons; however, they all wore red armbands.

The most surprising thing, however, was the nature of the other inhabitants of New Cyril. All throughout the city, or campsite, more like it, were animals. These ranged from normal woodland creatures, such as small snakes or foxes, to domesticated creatures, even to outright monsters. The most common amongst the monsters were great panthers and coeurls, but there were also many goblins and antlions. At one point, Isaac was even sure that he saw an ahriman's single eye gazing down mournfully at him from a tree branch. None of them had ever seen monsters and any of the civilized races living in such harmony before.

"You've probably noticed all of the animals," Owen said, glancing over his shoulder to look at them. "That was Ben and the rest of the defenders of the forest's one condition when they took us in; we had to live in harmony with the forest and its creatures as much as possible."

"So you were originally from Cyril?" Eileen asked, stepping forward so that she was beside the human.

"Yeah," he nodded. "My family was one of the first ones arrested. My dad managed to buy me enough time to get away, though, and I left with the rest of the refugees. Ben picked us up when we got out of the city, and he led us back here."

"There was a perfect sanctuary just waiting here?" Eileen demanded, incredulity clear in her voice.

"According to Ben, this place is an ancient hideaway for the protectors of the forest. He was more or less leading them at that point, so he decided to help as many of us as he could."

"And he managed to fit the whole population of Cyril in here?"

"No, nowhere close," the human sighed. He gestured vaguely with his hand. "We've only got a couple thousand people here, at most. Even Ben wasn't good enough to get most of us out. The rest are in the prisons."

Everybody nodded at that; even Isaac had heard tales of the mysterious prisons. Nobody had ever seen them; nobody even knew where they were. However, occasionally, people would simply go missing. Sometimes there was a note left, stating simply that they had been taken away to the prison for defying the palace. But that was it.

"This is where you'll be staying," Owen said suddenly, gesturing towards a hut slightly off from the others. It was clear that nobody was living their; the path through the undergrowth leading towards its entrance was slightly overgrown.

Owen led them to the curtain which served as a door, and brushed it carefully aside. Inside there was a simple earthen floor and four bed rolls set out.

"I'm sorry, but I have to get going," Owen said. "I'm supposed to be doing the rounds right now."

"Of course, kupo," Lini spoke for them. "Thank you very much."

Once the human had left, Maxwell glanced around at the other three. "I'm not sure about you, but I'd like to get a look at this city. It seems fascinating."

"I'll come with you," Eileen offered. She shrugged off her pack, dropping it to the floor. "Are you two coming?"

Isaac shook his head, and Lini glanced at his face, saying, "I'm going to take a look at those cuts. I should be able to seal them up, kupo."

Eileen and Maxwell nodded, then stepped out of the hut, leaving them alone.

"So," Lini muttered, turning towards Isaac. "What are you thinking, kupo?"

"Sorry?" Isaac asked. He had already thrown down his pack, and was rummaging around in it.

"Are you kidding, kupo?"

"What?"

Lini gave a very exasperated sigh, then said, "You've just been told that you house the power of Famfrit inside of you. You can't tell me that you're comfortable with that."

"I'm not Famfrit's avatar, kupo," Isaac muttered.

"Kupopo?"

"I'm _not _Famfrit's avatar," he repeated. He hadn't even looked up at her yet.

"Why not?"

"Look at me, Lini." He faced her now, holding his arms out away from his body. "I'm a half-grown moogle teenager with a ruined paw walking around with a bunch of heroes, kupo, one of whom wants to kill me." He shrugged. "Do you honestly think that a Totema would ever take interest in me?"

"Ultima has already recognized you," Lini pointed out, nodding towards the blade strapped to Isaac's back. "Would it be that much of a stretch to believe that your own Totema has taken note of you?"

Isaac didn't say anything. He simply lowered his head for a moment. Then, he spoke. "Well, don't act like I'm the only one dealing with large issues, kupo. How can you believe that you're just a fraction of somebody?"

That set Lini back on her heals. Her eyes widened, and then she looked down at her feet. She stuttered, and Isaac nearly went into cardiac arrest. "I-I... it's complicated, kupo."

"Welcome to my life, kupo," the moogle muttered, shaking his head and collapsing into a seated position on the earth. "Do you actually believe everything that Eileen says?"

"She seems fairly certain, despite what she warns," Lini reasoned. "You know her better than I do; would she let us know about that theory if she wasn't quite sure?"

"Never, kupo. She would never get our hopes up like that if she didn't think it was true."

"I find it difficult to accept that I am a fragment of some other entity, kupo. But, then again, how much more outlandish is it than any other belief or possibility? Eileen is very smart; I don't doubt her. In that case, I simply hope that I can join back up with the rest of my parts soon."

"Why, kupo?"

A sad smile crept over Lini's face. "It is no mystery to me that I am a very aggressive and dominant person. It is quite likely that that is the attribute that was most predominant within the fragment of soul that I was given. As such, there are several other pieces of myself out there right now who are missing all of their combative instincts."

"That," Isaac nodded, "or your real self is just a wanker, kupo."

She grinned. "That is a possibility. Now, kupo, tell me: what do you think of this idea that Famfrit resides within you?"

Isaac actually laughed outright, shaking his head. "I have no idea, kupo. If Famfrit's power lies within me, then I definitely haven't felt it over the past while. In case you hadn't noticed, I've been smashed around more than most over the past few years. If that didn't unleash Famfrit's power, then I don't know what would."

"Still, you have to admit," Lini said, a smile playing on her lips, "you do embody much of what defines a moogle, kupo."

"How do you mean?"

Lini advanced slowly on him, placing a paw on the fur of his shoulder. "You work with your hands, kupo. You're hesitant, but only because you're a perfectionist and you hate to fail those around you. You love everybody that you meet, but once they've betrayed you, you never forgive them. And," her smile grew wider, and, much to Isaac's surprise, she pulled him close to her, "for some odd reason, despite how completely dim and pathetic you are sometimes, kupo, I love nothing more than watching you succeed."

Isaac blinked rapidly, going rigid in her grip. "Lini, it's been three years—"

"You keep saying that like it means something, kupo," she whispered. "It's the only defence you've got against the things you've done. But let me tell you; the time you cut my cheek open in the desert was the most emotional moment in my life. Whether you like it or not, kupo, I'm going to be beside you until one of us dies."

Isaac's breath was shuddery, and he was trying very hard not to look at her eyes. "I'm not ready to—"

"I wasn't ready three years ago, kupo, so shut up."

She kissed him. For one moment, Isaac's body bunched up in her arms, all of his muscles seizing in surprise. Then, she felt him shake, and he relaxed, returning her embrace.

As they pulled away from each other for a moment to breathe, Lini whispered, "There's something else you should know."

"What's that, kupo?" Isaac replied. "It had better be pretty important to interrupt this for."

"When you and Ben were fighting, I wasn't going fast enough to stop his attack."

"...kupopo?"

"He hesitated."

Isaac stared at her. "What?"

"Don't think about it right now, though," she muttered, nuzzling his face with hers. "Stop thinking at all. Just feel. Help me remember how I felt in the desert."

Isaac nodded, and they kissed again.


	77. Departure for Delia

Isaac's eyes snapped open as a hand shook him. He glanced over, and was met with Lini's face lying quite close to his. For a moment, he was confused, before he recalled their conversation the night before.

"We have to get going, kupo," she whispered. "Owen came in last night after you fell asleep and said we should meet with Ben at dawn."

"Right," the male moogle muttered. A grin found its way to his face. "How did Owen...?"

She smiled back. "There were a few awkward moments. I think he had a nosebleed when he was leaving."

The two of them laughed, and then they kissed once before Lini rolled out of the bed. "Get dressed, kupo. We really need to move."

The two of them met with Eileen and Maxwell outside. They had all of their clothing and equipment on, and were clearly alert. Isaac looked curiously at them, realising something.

"Where were you two all last night, kupo?" he asked.

A blush crossed Eileen's face, visible beneath her grey fur, and Maxwell cleared his throat and spoke.

"We thought it would be... prudent to get another room for the night."

"Didn't Owen say that that was the only place open?"

"After he went in to inform the two of you about this morning, he, ah, quite understood about it."

Isaac's mouth dropped slightly, and he muttered, "Ah."

"There's the Isaac we like to see," Eileen said, smiling despite her blush. "Embarrassed, awkward and completely uncomfortable."

"Nice to know you think of me like that," the moogle whispered, barely managing to look any of them in the face.

"There you are!"

The voice drew all four of them from their highly awkward conversation, and they turned to see Owen walking up. There were two ravens with him, one perched on each shoulder. Their small black eyes followed the four companions as the hunter approached.

"Nice to see you again," he said. He cast a quick glance at Isaac and Lini, his cheeks red, and then decided to settle his gaze upon Maxwell. "Ben wants to leave within half an hour. Come with me."

The group set off, following the hunter and his two ravens as they strode swiftly through the grass. This time, they went deeper into the camp, to where there were larger and much more permanent tents set up. Isaac's eyes took these in, and he had to shake his head in admiration at the quality. Even at a glance, it was clear that those would put up with quite a beating. He asked their guide about them.

"The people of New Cyril made them," he explained quietly, still hurrying them along. "They might not be the cheeriest bunch, but they'll never give up or back down from work. They're doing what they can to make the best of this situation. Even more impressive, almost all of them have been learning how to fight. They want revenge."

"Is that what Ben has promised them?" Eileen demanded, concern clear in her voice.

"Ben promised them safety," the boy clarified, shrugging. "They all appreciate it, but everybody, even he, knows that this is just temporary. As soon as there's a chance, the people are going to rebel."

"And you with them?"

Owen was quiet for a moment. "We'll have to see."

There was no more conversation as they made their way towards the head tent of the camp. It was clear that this had been in place far longer than the other shelters. Ivy had grown over and covered the entire thing. Part of the supports were attached to a tree, which appeared to have grown up and around to accommodate for the tent's location.

Owen held the entrance flap open, and they entered. All were surprised.

It looked like a war room. There were maps with circles and lines drawn on them everywhere; stuck to the canvas walls with pins stuck in them, laid out on the table with rocks holding the corners down. A few rustic chairs were arranged around the table, most of them showing bite or claw marks on them.

Inside the room were Ben and a decrepitly old nu mou. The Blue mage was carefully selecting maps from a large pile and laying them with reverence into a pack. He wore a ragged brown cloak, with a white shirt underneath. His pants were dirty and dark blue in colour, almost black in the dim candlelight. The thing which surprised Isaac about the mage's appearance, however, was what he could just see under the white, unbuttoned V-neck of the shirt. What looked like a series of bones were criss-crossing his chest.

The mage looked up suddenly, his glowing eyes casting over them. He saw where Isaac was looking, and quickly reached up to do up the top of his shirt, hiding the strange sight from view.

"You're ready," he stated, nodding slowly at them. "Good. Good then. Oh, yes, a member of the community has decided to, um, accompany us."

He glanced over at the nu mou standing next to him, and, to the surprise and fear of the others, nodded to her with more than a bit of trepidation.

They all looked the nu mou up and down, giving her a quick assessment. She was old; oh yes, she was old. Wrinkles lined her face, in some places so deeply that Isaac was quite sure that they could have split the lady's face in half. Her eyes, however, lined by those multitudes of wrinkles, were sharp, and were tilted just enough to make her look mischievous despite her age.

She wore the casual and somewhat ragtag clothing which was customary in New Cyril. However, her clothes were, without a doubt, of better quality. They were sewn together with care, from the pale white shirt and green pants beneath, to the large, light brown travelling cloak overtop. Her hair, reaching back all the way to the base of her spine, was free of the confinement of any hat or tie. A leather satchel hung around her shoulder and waist, and wound around it was a long, tough whip. The handle was dusty, and worn with use. Isaac eyed the cracker carefully, noting that it was beginning to fray from age.

There was silence as the group stared at her, each one wondering whether or not this decrepit nu mou would be able to manage the journey. The nu mou, for her part, simply eyed each one for a moment, before turning to Ben.

"Will you introduce me, or do you intend to have them ogling me all day?"

That set everybody back on their heels for a moment. Ben nodded suddenly, muttering, "Right. Uh, this is Bertrudiana. She, uh, she's accompanying us to our rendezvous with Nutsy, and uh..."

"You have already said that, Ben," the old nu mou said, a grin crossing her features. "If I did not know better, I would say you were frightened."

Ben appeared to consider this thoroughly for a moment, and began opening his mouth to speak. She shot him a look, and the Blue mage seemed to think better of it.

"I apologize if I offend," Maxwell said, apparently having missed this short non-verbal exchange between them, "but, uh, are you certain that you are strong enough to make this journey? It _is _quite far, and..."

Maxwell stopped, noticing Ben's very exaggerated gestures of dragging a finger across his throat. He was confused for a moment, until he glanced down to find that the nu mou was standing directly in front of him.

"Hello," she said, eying him carefully. "You are the dragoon, Maxwell?"

"Er, yes?"

"Right. Your reputation precedes you. I have heard that you are the strongest bangaa alive."

"Well, I..."

"And you once managed to fight off six dragons on your own with naught but your spear and the clothes on your back."

"Euh... yes, I did..." Maxwell muttered, too flustered to notice the looks of astonishment from his three friends.

"Well, you are highly impressive, I must say." She nodded, a smile on her wrinkled lips. "However, though nobody else agrees with me, _I_ am the strongest _nu mou_ alive, and I once defeated eight dragons and several antlions with a flute."

Maxwell stared at her, his mouth searching for words. They found none.

"I was just letting you know," she said, giving him a suspiciously welcoming smile. "In case we get into a somewhat precarious battle along the way, you can stick close to me if you need protection."

When Maxwell didn't reply, she walked by him, saying, "If you wish, you can call me Grans. It seems as though everybody else does. Ah," the nu mou said, her tone changing suddenly as her eyes came to rest upon Eileen. "You are the Greatspell!"

"Former Greatspell," Eileen corrected. She took the offered hand, nodding quickly to 'Grans.' However, her eyes were on Maxwell, who was still trying to think of something to say. "I've lost that distinction by now. It's just Eileen."

"Ah, yes, the strange ways of those academic types." Grans shook her head, sighing. "They can be obnoxious. And I had heard that there were two more warriors coming with us on our trip?"

There was an awkward silence for a moment as Grans looked around. Finally, Isaac cleared his throat as softly as he could, catching her attention. She stared down at him for a moment in surprise.

"Uh, hi, kupo," he said. "I'm Isaac."

"Oh, well look at you!" she said, approaching him quickly. Then, she reached down, and, to the surprise and horror of Lini, Eileen, Maxwell, and especially Isaac, pinched his cheek, giving his face a little shake. "Well, you are a big guy."

Isaac sputtered, and finally muttered, "Excu—"

"Oh, and such nice fur. I have never seen a brown-furred moogle."

"Well, I, uh..." he stopped suddenly. "Wait, I—"

"So the two of you will be accompanying us?" she asked, glancing over to Lini as well, who was busy trying not to burst out laughing at Isaac's misfortune. She glanced over to Ben. "They are both so small, though!"

"Don't worry," the Blue mage said, waving a hand at her. "They can handle themselves. Both of them are good warriors. However, we should be moving soon. We're headed for Delia, aren't we? It's a long journey."

"Alright, then," Grans agreed, nodding to the mage. Then, she turned back to Isaac, glancing over at Lini as well. "If there is anything that either of you need, then please do not hesitate to come and speak to me. Alright, dears?"

Isaac simply stared at her, not replying. He glanced over to Lini for assistance, and fortunately, she was ready.

"That's very nice of you, kupo," she said. "Thank you very much."

"Grans, is it?" Eileen asked suddenly, drawing the attention away from the moogles. She took the old nu mou's hand, and started leading her away towards the exit of the camp. "How about if you and I walk together? It would be nice to have some intelligent conversation."

As Eileen led her away, the remaining three all turned to stare at Ben.

"She's a harmless prankster," Ben offered. He paused, thought for a moment, then added, "So long as you don't piss her off. She's quite good with that whip."

"She also seems to want to make a rug out of Isaac's pelt," Maxwell muttered, glancing at her receding back.

"What was that, anyways, kupo?" Lini asked.

Ben shrugged. "Not sure. I don't think that she's ever been around many moogles. She seems to just think of most of them as children now, and, well..."

"To clarify," Isaac said, rubbing his cheek, "my _grandma_ never pinched my cheeks. Ever."

"Duly noted," Ben grinned. "I'll tell her that she should do it more often when we get back."

Isaac shot the mage a mock dirty look. However, as they were looking at each other, something clicked in each of their faces, and Isaac looked quickly away again as Ben's expression darkened.

"Let's go. It wouldn't be good to keep her waiting too long."

* * *

A/N: Hey, all. Uh, sorry about this. I wanted to write more, and I actually have been. The next chapter is about half done, but I had to post this. I'm starting work tomorrow, and, as such, I'll only have access to a computer two days of the week. And, on top of that, those two days will mostly be filled up with buying groceries and trying to meet up with friends. Anyways, in short, expect far fewer chapters from me over the summer. Very, very sorry everybody, but them's the breaks!


	78. Biskmatar

"He's here," Eileen hissed. Sweat was pouring down her forehead, her shuddering fingers grasping ineffectually at the burning sand.

"What are you talking about? Who?"

"The rift is opening," Montblanc announced, glancing back to the pair who were crouched on the sand. "Is she alright, kupo?"

"We have to pull out," Marche ordered, his voice shaking.

"We can't, kupo. We've been waiting three years for this!"

"But you don't understand; it's _him_! It's—"

Eileen's voice caught in her throat as a shadow appeared over the sun. The entire assembled group turned, and each one felt all of their courage draining away. For there, standing at the top of a sand dune, was an armoured figure with a knightsword already drawn.

"Llednar," Marche whispered, his hand already clamped around the hilt of his own knightsword.

Suddenly, behind them, it seemed as though a tear opened up in... well, in everything. It was simply a giant black hole, and, in one incredible moment, all of them were sucked in. The hole sealed again, and nothing was left on the lonely sand dunes but for a few footprints.

* * *

The day started ordinarily enough. It was the group's eighteenth day of travelling together. Isaac was walking point guard, as he had been doing a good deal over the trip. Grans was initially quite opposed to the idea, thinking it a monstrous thing to send 'the small thing' to do such a dangerous job. However, after Maxwell promised to jump forward and help the moogle should something happen, she relented.

The situation with the rest of the group was far too uncomfortable for Isaac to handle. True, Ben had been willing to travel and fight beside Isaac, but his order for the moogle to remain out of his attention as much as possible still hung in the air. That was quite a difficult thing to do with the aged nu mou constantly fawning over him and asking him how he was doing.

On top of that, despite his recently rekindled romance with Lini, Isaac continued to find himself thinking about Eileen whenever she was around him. It was as he was kissing Lini one evening and found himself looking over her shoulder at Eileen that he realized just how desperately he missed Jacqueline.

The only person who seemed to be safe to speak with was Maxwell. It appeared that over the past three years, either the bangaa had loosened up, or Isaac had become more grounded, or perhaps a bit of both. Whatever it was, the two of them had a relationship that was almost better than it had been before.

Of course, as they travelled, the summer's heat only got stronger. Not only was the summer advancing, and the weather thus getting hotter, but also they were travelling further south. They were, of course, heading to a dessert, so all were prepared for it to get a good deal warmer.

"So what is it that tipped Nutsy off about Delia, kupo?" Isaac asked the dragoon as they stopped for lunch. By this point, they had reached the outskirts of the desert, and were camped under a few sparse trees. All of them had stripped down to cooler clothing, and were carrying as little baggage as possible. For the most part, it was just weapons and bare minimum food supplies.

"There was a mission request just before the Sprohm Incident," Maxwell explained. "Apparently, the 'Whispering Sands' have fallen quiet. Nobody thought much of it at first. However, after things had begun calming down after the situations in Muscadet and Cyril, Nutsy started looking around for anything out of the ordinary that had come up. It took them a while, but this is what they found."

"I don't see what the big deal is, kupo," Isaac muttered. "There are stranger things happening all the time, kupo."

"Nutsy's looked into most of those." Maxwell shrugged. "This seems like the best bet at this point. Also, the palace is guarding it, so something important has to be there."

"Sound reasoning, kupo. So we're just here to make a hole in the palace's defence?"

"More or less."

"Sounds like a suicide mission, kupo."

"Oh, you have no reason to worry!" a voice called.

Isaac shot Maxwell a terrified look, and the bangaa, with quite a smirk on his face, nodded just over the moogle's shoulder. Breathing a deep sigh, Isaac turned around and forced a smile to his face. Everybody else may have adored and enjoyed the old nu mou's company, but Isaac had never taken kindly to being treated like a child.

"Hello, Grans," he said, nodding to her as she approached.

"If we do get into a dangerous situation, just stick by Grans. She will protect you." The nu mou tapped a finger to the side of her nose, as though sharing a very important secret.

_And she'll do it in third person_, Isaac thought, but instead said, "That's nice of you, Grans. But, honestly, I'll be fine. I _can _fight."

"Oh, but of course you can," she said, using a voice which left Isaac less than convinced that she meant those words. "But, in case you need some help, stick by me."

"Alright, Grans," Isaac said, nodding. "By the by, kupo, I was, uh, wondering, um, well... why _did_ you want to come with us?"

At that question, an extremely thoughtful look came to her eyes. She seemed to rock back onto her heels, not even looking to Isaac or Max on the sand. "It is a rather long and complicated tale. However, the essential of it is that I refuse to sit back as this world burns. I may be getting on in years, but I can play my part. Perhaps on this journey, or perhaps in some battle off in the future. It matters not how my part is played, or its weight overall. However, I know how unlikely it is that that part will be in a small village in the midst of the peaceful Eastland. And, so, here I am, journeying through the desert with all of you." She glanced over at them again, and that smile returned to her wrinkled face.

Isaac and Maxwell stared at her for a moment, then turned to each other and exchanged looks. Finally, Maxwell swallowed, and managed to speak. "That's an extremely... deep answer."

"Not really," she shrugged. "When you think about it, it is very simple, as all answers should be. Still though," she went on, and her tone changed abruptly, "I must say that I am extremely appalled that they are allowing one such as yourself to take part in this battle, Isaac."

The moogle hung his head as she continued speaking, describing how horrific it would likely be, and how it was no place for such innocent eyes and ears. Alright, so, the nu mou _could _show remarkable levels of clarity and insight sometimes. It didn't change the fact that she was a bit delusional.

A voice broke into Grans' ramblings, however, as Lini called over. "We should get moving, kupo. I don't think that Nutsy's hideout is too far away."

All five of the others nodded, and they rose, beginning to walk again. Isaac drew his gunblade, and pulled ahead, his eyes scanning the horizon.

After about fifteen minutes of this wandering, they found themselves approaching a small outcropping of desert plants; just tall, brown bits of grass and the like. It appeared to be much larger than most such spots, but the group thought little of it.

Aside from Lini, that was. As soon as she saw it, the mogknight began leading them over towards it. Once they reached the edge, she called out, "Hello, kupo!"

"Who goes there?" a voice replied from within the bushes. It was feminine, with a bit of gravel to it.

"Oh, you know that it's just me. I'm back; let me in, kupo."

"Alright, alright," the voice replied. "Come right in."

Lini nodded, and the six began pushing their way through the vegetation. When they came out on the blanket of sand on the opposite side, they found a woman standing and waiting for them.

"There you are!" Caitlin crowed, a smile crossing her scarred features. She rushed forward and gave Lini a great slap on the back, her smile only widening as she looked at the other five. "You managed to get them."

"All of them, kupo," Lini said with pride.

"I knew you would do it. Most of the others didn't, but I did. Which reminds me: Montblanc now owes me thirty gil."

"Good to know at least _somebody_ had faith in me. Could you show us to Marche?"

"Yeah, of course. Just follow me."

With that, the woman turned and began walking towards a gigantic sand dune that was in the middle of the empty space within the patch of vegetation. The six of them set off behind her, following closely. Caitlin didn't appear to have changed a good deal in the past few years. She wore a simple shirt of chain mail over her normal clothing, and the the belt of her sword hung diagonally across it. There was still a long red ribbon attached to the hilt, fluttering about behind her in the wind. The only addition to her equipment was a long blade which hung from her right hip.

The group followed her up the dune until they reached the crest, and all of their eyes widened somewhat as they stared down into the hollow centre of the hill.

"Impressive, kupo," Isaac muttered, summing up all of the others' thoughts.

"It's what we go for," Caitlin nodded, a small smile coming to her face.

The dune appeared to be almost completely hollow at the centre, the outer shell hanging in place. As Isaac stared at this impossible sight, with the sand being held up as though by the air, he saw a soft glint of pale blue, and instantly understood. They were using magic.

The shell of the dune was sheltering a series of neatly set up tents and one small open field which appeared to be for training. There were a few chocobos lazing about, and three or four unattended wagons at the far side.

"Montblanc's getting better with his magic, kupo," Lini commented, glancing at the shell and nodding appreciatively.

"This is _all_ Montblanc?" Eileen demanded, shaking her head at the idea.

"Over the past few years, he's more or less mastered the use of Time magic," Caitlin explained. "These days, given enough time to say the enchantment and the ethers to back it up, he can do just about anything."

They were given little time to further consider the great work of magic, however, as Caitlin gestured towards an edge of the dune about a quarter of the way around. They set off after her, and saw that they were approaching one small section where the sand hadn't been cleared away. Instead, it had been shaped to produce a small slope heading downwards into the camp. They followed this path down, and then they were in the heart of the place, following the fighter towards a tent slightly off to the side. The tent was identical to the others but for one detail: an acorn woven into the side. There was a slight buzz of conversation coming from the tent, barely audible above the desert wind.

Caitlin ducked into the tent without announcing herself, and Lini followed, so the other five decided that it was best if they did the same.

The moment that Isaac, Eileen, Ben and Maxwell stepped into the tent, it went dead quiet. The four of them glanced around the structure, and found a long wooden table with several individuals sitting around it, staring at them. Amongst them were all of the members of Clan Nutsy they had known before, along with a few new faces. For a moment, Isaac thought that somebody was missing, before he felt a pain in his chest as he realised why Robert wasn't present.

"Well…" a voice said, and all eyes turned to look as it continued, "I see that you were succesful, Lini."

There, at the head of the table, stood a youth in his mid teens. A long white cloak covered much of his body, barely showing the pale blue long-sleeved shirt and bright red pants underneath. His skin, though tanned, was obviously of a normally light nature, and his limbs, despite how slender they were, rippled with muscle. A shock of neck-length blonde hair framed a set of crystal blue eyes, remarkably mature for their age.

"I told you I would," Lini replied, giving a small bow to her commander. "I try not to break my word, Marche."

A smile came to Marche's face, and he gestured towards several unoccupied chairs around the table. "Of course not. We did get a bit worried when you didn't meet with us in Cadoan."

"Unfortunately, the nature of Eileen's 'recruitment' didn't give us much time to hang around, kupo," the mogknight shrugged, taking a seat. She nodded to everybody at the table, and Isaac noted her barely apparent smugness at their looks of disbelief.

"Nothing to worry about. Now, all of you are here," he nodded, looking to the five others. He came around the table, approaching them with a smile. "You have my thanks. What we'll be doing isn't exactly the safest, but I think you're all the best for the job." He offered a hand to Maxwell, who he reached first, and went down the line quickly, giving each a handshake or a pat on the shoulder as he spoke. "Good to see you again, Max. I'm sorry that we had to pull you away from the Dragons. Eileen! Hopefully things will go better this time than the last time we were together. I'm most surprised to see you here, Ben; nobody even knew where you were. I can only guess at what you've been working on over the past few years. And Isaac! Lini managed to drag you down from the skies, did she? Let's hope you're as good as your reputation, if you…"

His voice dwindled as he looked at Isaac in mild confusion. Out of the four, he was the only one who hadn't taken his hand the moment he'd offered it. The two simply looked at each other for a moment, until Lini cleared her throat. Marche glanced over his shoulder at her.

"Left hand," was all she said.

An embarassed and pained look came to Marche's face as he quickly switched the hands he was offering out to the moogle. Isaac took it and they shook slowly, both wishing they could escape the awkwardness of the situation.

"Pardon me," came a voice from off to Isaac's left, and the moogle gave up a silent thank you to both Famfrit and Ultima as Grans stamped a foot on the sand. "I would greatly enjoy to shake hands with the legend."

"Oh, uh, of course," Marche said, turning away from the moogle and facing the nu mou. "I guess you already know that I'm Marche. I don't think that I know your name, though…"

"You do not," Grans confirmed. "This is our first meeting, but hopefully not our last. My name is Bertrudiana, but you can simply call me Grans. I—"

She stopped and everybody turned to stare as somebody at the table stood up, sending their chair falling backwards into the canvas wall in their surprise. "Bertrudiana?"

Grans's face lit up as she called out, "Ah, Guinny! I should have expected to find you moving around with this group."

The old male nu mou simply stared and shook his head slowly, his eyes wide as he attempted to back up over his fallen chair. Guinness was pale, even beneath his fur. "Why are _you_ here?"

"I could ask you the same question," she replied, shrugging. "Then again, I can probably discern it for myself. You grew tired of serving as the doctor of a small backwater community, realised that you still yearned for those long ago days of adventure, and joined up with a promising group of young adventurers?"

"Wha…?" he started, then stopped, shaking his head. "I was one of the founding members of Clan Nutsy!"

"Oh, I am certain that you were. All of us in the old clan agreed; you always were the one who most enjoyed the clanner's life, both on and… _off_… the battlefield."

Several coughs and snorts rang out around the table as people made (poor) attempts to cover their laughter. Guinness glared quickly at them, then sputtered, "Th…that was a long time ago, Bertrudiana!"

"An old dog never changes his tricks," she said, waving his protests off. "And the same is doubly true for an old fox. Besides, I never heard any complaints from anybody about your ways. _I _certainly did not complain about it."

"I…" he searched for words, completely conscious of the fact that everybody was staring at him. "Well, it has no bearing, anyways! What are you doing here?"

"Ah, that," she nodded, gracefully allowing the White mage to change subjects. "I have come with the intention of joining Clan Nutsy."

Several of the people sitting around the table glanced at each other, each one grinning at the thought of having the boisterous old nu mou as a member of their group. The only individual who seemed at all opposed to this idea was Guinness, whose jaw had quickly dropped upon hearing the suggestion and had yet to rise again.

"Are you certain?" Marche asked, instantly drawing everybody's attention back to him. His arms were crossed, and the look in his eyes was serious. "You should know that we don't exactly lead the easiest life. We scarcely stop moving from one battle to the next, always planning for the next engagement. Once you're seen with us, there's no going back until this war is settled."

"Those reasons are precisely why I chose to join your clan," the old nu mou answered evenly. "Despite how I may look, I am a tough old bird. If I wish for my grandchildren to grow up in a land that they can call their own without shame, then I shall have to fight for the privilege. Even if I am of no aid in combat, I will do whatever is necessary to help your cause." She paused. Glancing up at Marche, she said, "One way or another, I am already allied in favour of your cause. Not to mention," she sent a quick grin over to Guinness, "any chance to make Guinny uncomfortable is greatly appreciated."

Marche returned her smile, and then offered her is hand. "In that case, welcome to the clan." She shook it, and the two of them nodded to each other. Then, he stepped back, and looked the assembled party up and down. He glanced over his shoulder to Lini, and said, "For now, all of you should rest. You must have made quite a journey to make it here, and you did it quickly. You seem to have joined the clan a bit late in the game, Grans; tomorrow will be our final battle. Until then, all of you, prepare your strength."

All of them nodded, and they turned to leave. Isaac was out of the tent first, walking as quickly as he could away from the structure. However, he just managed to catch Marche's voice as he said, "Ben, wait a moment. I have something for you."

The moogle cut a quick path through the path, moving towards the outskirts. There didn't appear to be many people about; it seemed that they were all either in the war meeting or resting for the following day. It didn't look like the camp could hold many people, though. At most twenty, and that was if people were pairing up in some of the larger tents.

It wasn't until he was sheltered beneath the lip of the shell of sand that he stopped and sat down heavily. He reached down and grabbed the tip of one of the fingers on his glove, yanking on it as hard as he could. It came off easily, slipping over skin and fur like it was nothing.

Then, he simply sat and stared at the large scar covering the paw, and breathed deeply, in and out. He kept the pace constant, bending all of his focus on the limb.

"It won't work, you know."

Isaac glanced up, surprised and embarrassed. He reached down and fumbled with his leather glove, trying desperately to pull it back on. He stopped, though, completely surprised, when his eyes fell upon Ben, standing not ten feet away from him.

He hadn't heard the Blue mage approaching, even with his keen hearing. However, there he stood, not even looking over at the moogle as he leaned up against he shell of sand.

"All of your nerves and tendons were severed, Isaac," the human simply said, as though completely unaware of the moogle's gaze. "I don't know if you ever heard the full diagnosis from a doctor. You were a bit… busy when you woke up. But they explained it to us. You're not using it again."

"I know, kupo," Isaac muttered, deciding not to question the mage's surprising openness with him. "I guessed as much, at least. Once during an engagement, a spell lit it on fire. The bizarre thing was, I didn't even feel anything below my elbow, and even above there all I was getting was some warmth."

"Then why were you trying to move it?"

"I don't know. Maybe if I can get it to move, it means that none of this is actually happening. Maybe it means that I'm finally waking up from this dream."

Ben laughed, shaking his head. "If only it were that easy. This isn't a dream, Isaac. It's not a dream or a book or a movie or a game or anything stupid like that. This is real, now."

Isaac watched him, and then asked, very cautiously, "What did Marche give you?"

Ben turned his glowing blue gaze over to Isaac, and the moogle just managed to hold in his desire to shudder. Then, the mage reached into a pocket, and pulled out something that glinted gold in the sunlight. He opened his hand wide, and Isaac clearly saw the old Blue mage's pin that Ben used to wear.

"I gave it to him just before I went in to save… to try to save Jacqueline," Ben explained, clenching his fist around it again. "I knew that, as I was, I didn't stand a chance of saving her. If I wanted her, I knew that I had to be willing to let go of everything; even some of myself. So I did. I figured I would put the pin back on once I was done, and I'd just keep myself from changing more. But then, after you… after I failed… I, uh, well…" He stopped completely for the first time, simply nodding very slowly. "I could have gone to Marche and asked for that pin back. I could have remained mostly human. I didn't, though. I _chose_ to give in and let the other side take over. For a while there, I was more beast than human. I managed to take control of myself again when I realised that there were people who still needed me. But it's just a ruse. I'm still mostly a beast."

"You can't be that much of a beast, kupo," Isaac said, shrugging. "Aside from your hair and your eyes, you don't look any different—"

"I can _smell_ your jugular right now, Isaac," Ben interrupted, glaring over at him. Isaac's breath caught in his throat, and he stared at the mage in surprise. "I know exactly where I'd have to dig my claws in and bite to kill you quickest without you losing much blood. I can almost _taste _your blood right now. And it's the same whenever I'm around anybody." He shook his head. "I can barely stand it in a crowd. I can control myself, but the more people there are, the more the beast wants to lash out and feed. But it's always there. I mean, while we were travelling here, I was talking to Eileen one time, and I realised that, in the back of my mind, I was sizing her up as prey. As prey! Do you have any idea how that feels?"

Isaac simply shook his head slowly, not knowing what else to say. Ben was almost frantic now, glancing around. Then, a thought came to Isaac, and he said, "But couldn't you start wearing the pin now, and go back?"

Ben glanced down at the pin, and a wry grin crossed his face. "No. No, it doesn't work that way. I don't get to just go back. What I've done to myself is permanent, and I don't even know whether I want to go back. This is part of me now." He flicked the pin into the air, then caught it between two fingers. "This pin was a symbol of myself and the control that I had three years ago. Now, it's nothing." He snapped his fingers out, and the pin went flying through the sky, over the lip of the shell, and out into the desert, sending a stream of gold light into their eyes for an instant. Then, it was gone, lost amongst the sand. "It's just scrap metal."

Isaac watched Ben hard for some time. Then, he said, and both of them understood what he really meant with his words, "There's no going back, then?"

Ben sighed. Then, he said, "No. Not for me, at least. Good night, Isaac. Be ready for tomorrow."

And then he was gone, walking noiselessly towards the tents. Isaac watched him go, shaking his head.

So that was the way it was going to be.

He glanced down at the glove clenched in his left paw, and the prone, scarred right paw.

No, there was no going back. It didn't work that way. Things were different; he had to make do with what he was now, and try to pay for his sins.

Isaac shoved his paw back into the glove, and walked slowly towards the camp.

* * *

"Isaac, it's time, kupo."

Isaac glanced up in the semi-darkness, finding the outline of Lini's face against the orange canopy of the tent gazing down at him. She looked like she was already dressed, and Isaac could see the sword belt which held the Avuir Red wrapped around her from shoulder to waist.

"Right, kupo," Isaac nodded, sitting up and rubbing his face hard with one paw. He looked over at her, then asked, "How long do we have?"

"Twenty minutes until we're supposed to meet with Marche and the rest."

"Twenty minutes," Isaac repeated. "Twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes, then one last battle, and then you get to leave this world and find Jacqueline again."

Isaac stood up slowly, stretching out kinks in his back and slowly flexing the wiry muscles hidden beneath his brown fur. He glanced down at his right paw, and focused on it for a moment.

When it didn't move, he sighed, and then grabbed his glove off of the floor and shoved it over the limb. "Lini?"

"Yes?"

"When we get back to the real world, will you…" he stopped. "Will you remember me?"

"I don't know, kupo," she said honestly. "If Eileen's right, then there's a lot of 'me''s out there. If that's the case, who knows who I'll be?"

Isaac nodded. "I'll find you, then."

"No, you will not."

"Kupopo?"

"Think about it, Isaac. There are thousands of people in your city. Will you ask each and every one if they remember you from a fantasy world where we were both creatures called moogles, kupo? I hope that I've taught you better than that. No, you'll live your life, as you did before, and you will remember everything I've taught you. Be happy with your friends, Isaac."

The two of them watched each other for a moment. Then, Isaac turned away, and said, "I don't know if I'm strong enough to keep doing this."

"You are, Isaac."

"I'm not, though. I'm not a fighter, like the rest of you."

"You most certainly are Isaac." She sighed, then shook her head. Finally, she looked up hopelessly at him. "Alright, I'll tell you this, and I'll tell you it only once. You're the strongest fighter I know, and that's including me. Fine, your muscles aren't as strong as Maxwell's, your knowledge of magic doesn't begin to measure up to Eileen's, you lack the natural grace and agility of Ben, and you don't swing a sword quite as perfectly as me. However, during my journeys, I've never met somebody quite so determined to continue fighting and throwing themselves into hopeless situations for what's right.

"I've met many individuals who had been taught the ways of the sword and who, given the opportunity and the motivation, could easily have defeated me in single combat. The difference between me and them is that I know battle and they know of battle. The difference between _you_ and _I_ is that I was destined to battle, whereas you _choose_ to do battle for what is correct. True, I taught you how to hold a blade. However, I never taught you to be a fighter. You already had that with you when we met."

Without another word, she stepped out of the tent, leaving him alone.

Isaac stared after her, his eyes looking very confused as he mulled over these thoughts. Then, he set about gathering his equipment together and slinging it on. Once he had finished, he looked up, and saw Lini's shadowed outline on the wall of the tent, just outside of the entrance.

Isaac stepped out of the tent, and, even as the sun blinded him, he grabbed Lini and pulled her close.

"I love you," he whispered to her, realising it was the first time he'd said those words to anybody.

"I love you, too," she said back, and then they kissed.

The two of them walked to the training field, and found everybody waiting for them there. Eileen, Maxwell, and Ben were standing off to the side, with Guinness and Grans not too far away. In the centre of the field were Marche, Caitlin, Lindsay, Montblanc, and a vierra decked out in the black garb of an assassin.

"Are you two ready?" Marche asked, his eyes resting carefully on them.

Isaac opened his mouth, but found that his throat was completely parched. He wanted to speak. He wanted to say he was ready. But he couldn't. It just…

"We're ready, kupo," Lini said, carefully reaching over and grabbing Isaac's paw so nobody could see.

"Good," Marche nodded. "Let's head out to where we're going to make our attack. It's time to head home."

* * *

"That's odd..." Marche murmured. His confusion was evident through his voice, and the way he shifted his position to look closer.

"What is it, kupo?" Montblanc asked, moving forward to stand beside his leader.

"There's a hole in their defence," the paladin explained. He waited a moment, and said, "It's quite obvious. If we wanted, we could probably get through right now without anybody noticing."

"Then why don't we?" Ben asked, his voice soft above the desert wind. "It'll save us a lot of headache."

"Yes, but they've _never_ shown a single flaw in their monitoring of this thing," the leader of Clan Nutsy argued. "It's not right."

"Marche, whether it's a trap or not, we should take it," Montblanc said. "Look, I can probably open the rift without any trouble, but it will take a lot of time and concentration. I don't know if I'll be able to do that while all of you are engaged against the palace guard. This might be the best chance we've got, kupo."

"And what about when the ambush they no doubt have set up attacks?" Marche demanded. "Even if we win against whatever they have planned, we'll still have to fight Mateus right after. We're not strong enough to fight both the palace and a totema at once."

"If there is an ambush, we will handle it," Maxwell said, his voice cutting through the argument without any hesitation. He glanced towards Isaac, Eileen, and Ben, all of whom nodded their assent. "It is what you summoned us here for."

Marche regarded them oddly for a moment, then turned to look at Cid, still astride his great grey chocobo.

"It is your decision," the judgemaster shrugged. "I can't give you any council in this."

"Alright then," Marche nodded slowly. Then, his hand went to the hilt of his knightsword, drawing it out so that its steel shone in the bright sunlight. "Let's begin our final battle."

They all nodded, and their weapons came out. Then, at a nod from Marche, they jumped over the hill, and began running, silent as death, to the stone plateau.

As soon as they reached it, Montblanc raised both hands, and energy began radiating from him. Eileen, Guinness and Lindsay's eyes all widened at the sudden surge of power, and Isaac and the other melee fighters were forced to take several steps back at his energy. The mage, however, noticed none of this, simply keeping his eyes clamped tightly shut as he chewed his lip and searching for... something.

"Something doesn't feel right," Eileen said suddenly from beside Isaac. He turned to glance at her, and saw her eyes darting around.

"Don't worry," Caitlin counselled. "Even if this is an ambush—"

"I don't mean that," Eileen said quickly. "I mean I can actually feel something. Something about this entire area, it's warped somehow, just... wrong."

"Could it be the tear?" Guinness asked, eying her carefully. "They sometimes put my magic on edge."

"No, I've been through a tear before," Eileen said, surprising most of those assembled. However, she went on without stopping to consider. "This feels more like a... a distortion."

"It's nerves," Ben muttered, shaking his head. "It's normal, Eileen."

"No, I feel it too," Marche said suddenly. He cast about himself, turning slowly to stare at the dunes. They could see his grip tightening on the hilt of his weapon. "Something is wrong here."

"Wrong how?" Isaac asked. He was still watching Eileen, seeing how distressed she was.

"I don't know, but it's familiar," Eileen muttered. She opened her mouth, as though she were going to speak again, but, suddenly, a cry wrestled itself from her throat, and she fell to her knees, gasping.

"Eileen!" Isaac yelled, dropping his blade and kneeling beside her. He grabbed her shoulders and tried to shake her, but she pulled away forcefully from him.

Across from them, Marche dropped to one knee, and his hands went to his head as a low moan of pain rose from his throat. "No..." he whispered. "No."

"What's going on, Eileen?" Isaac demanded, grabbing her again. He felt Maxwell approaching behind him, but didn't turn to look. Instead, he moved until he was forcing Eileen to look into his eyes, and held her there.

"He's here," Eileen hissed. Sweat was pouring down her forehead, her shuddering fingers grasping ineffectually at the burning sand.

"What are you talking about? Who?"

"The rift is opening," Montblanc announced, glancing back to the pair who were crouched on the sand. "Is she alright, kupo?"

"We have to pull out," Marche ordered, his voice shaking.

"We can't, kupo. We've been waiting three years for this!"

"But you don't understand; it's _him_! It's—"

His voice caught in his throat as a shadow appeared over the sun. The entire assembled group turned, and each one felt all of their courage draining away. For there, standing at the top of a sand dune, was an armoured figure with a knightsword already drawn.

"Llednar," Marche whispered, his hand already clamped around the hilt of his own knightsword.

Isaac scooped up his blade, and began turning to face the shadow, but stopped as he felt an incredible tug from behind. He gasped as his feet suddenly came off of the ground, and then, he was flying backwards. His eyes seemed to go inside out for a moment, and all that was black was white and all that was white was black. A sound reached his ears, somewhere between the whistle of a boiling kettle and the screams of a poorly played violin.

Then, just as suddenly, the moogle was on his knees again, kneeling next to Eileen. However, instead of warm sand, there was only cool stone beneath him. The scalding sun was gone, replaced with a cool, dark, and almost moist atmosphere.

Isaac stood up and turned, taking in the mid-sized chamber in which he found himself. It appeared to be more or less flat, aside from two pits in the floor which seemed to lead to nowhere. The various members of Clan Nutsy and his own group were arranged around him, each one glancing around to take in their new surroundings.

"How interesting..."

The voice which spoke chilled Isaac. There was something odd about it. It was almost as though somebody had taken a normal voice, and drained any happiness or joy there could be found within it. It was monotone, yet cold and menacing at the same time. Isaac, along with everybody else, turned to face the source of the voice.

"It appears we shall have our battle in the hall of one of the totema," Llednar Twem, biskmatar of the palace, said, nodding slowly. "How appropriate."

"Dammit," Marche muttered. His knightsword rose, and he began issuing orders. "Alright, I'll hold him off. Everybody else, find a way out, and I'll—"

"Marche, kupo, we're in a tear," Montblanc muttered. "We don't have anywhere to run."

"Right," the paladin muttered. His eyes had not left Llednar's yet, and he didn't blink as he continued. "In that case, we attack as one. If we all do this together, we might be able to defeat him."

"I highly doubt that," the biskmatar stated. He held his free hand out, and suddenly, darkness gathered there in a concentrated mist. It flattened and then spread out, before stopping and falling away to reveal a black shield. "You may try, though."

"Marche, you and everybody else go ahead," Eileen said, her voice hoarse. Everybody but the paladin and the biskmatar turned to watch as she rose unsteadily to her legs. She was shaking, but beside that, she was fine. "The four of us will hold him for you. That was the plan, so let's stick to it."

"But things are different now," Marche said. "He could—"

"Kill us?" Eileen asked. She looked to the other three, and knew their thoughts as she knew her own. "We were ready for that possibility before we came here. This changes nothing."

"I'll stay behind and help them," Lini offered. "You managed to take down the first few Totema without my help; might as well do the same now."

"I will help them as well," Cid agreed. His chocobo gave a quick warble as he nudged it forward. "I should be able to prevent him from using his Omega ability. That at least removes his greatest strength."

"Do it," Marche whispered. He looked to the other members of Clan Nutsy. "Let's go. We have to move and get this done _fast_." He glanced to Cid, and ordered, "Keep them alive."

The judge nodded, and the clan left, so that only Isaac, Eileen, Ben, Maxwell, Lini and Cid stood facing Llednar. The entire time, Marche didn't turn away from Llednar, the two keeping their eyes locked. He didn't turn away until he'd passed through the small door which led to the next chamber, and disappeared.

"Let the engagement begin," Cid said into the silence, his voice echoing. He pulled out a card, and then tossed it into the air. It disappeared in a flash, and an odd look crossed Llednar's face. "Law forbidding the use of A-Ability: Omega."

"Why," Llednar said, a look of mild amusement crossing his face, "that seems hardly neutral, Judgemaster. Does this go with your mandate?" Cid remained silent, and, so, Llednar sighed, and said, "Well, if you refuse to let me use Omega, I'll at least even the odds like this."

With that, he raised his hand into the air. What could only be described as a flash of darkness exploded from it, engulfing everything in black for a moment. Once it cleared, there were, standing behind the biskmatar, two bangaa wearing heavy silver armour and carrying spears, and two fairies. There was something odd about these creatures, though; they didn't seem to move at all. Their chests didn't even rise with breath. They stood, as though they were statues, waiting.

"Well," Llednar said, tilting his head slightly, "are you coming?"

"Lini, take down those templars," Eileen said, her voice sharp as she nodded to the bangaas. "Isaac, left fairy, Ben, right fairy. Max, you _are_ the strongest bangaa alive, right?"

"Yes," the dragoon said, all thoughts of polite modesty disappearing.

"Good," she whispered, taking a deep breath. Orange light began gathering around her, sending shadows flickering across the walls. "Let's see if the strongest warrior and the greatest spellcaster alive can hold him."

The five of them stood for a moment, sizing up their five opponents.

Neither side moved.

Then, as one, Isaac and Ben jumped clean across the pits, Lini's blade flashed and sent out a blast of moonlight, and Eileen and Maxwell took a synchronised step towards the biskmatar.

Llednar, however, was already there. He charged forward, his knightsword leading in a devastating slash at Eileen. He stopped suddenly as Maxwell lunged sideways with the butt of his spear, catching the knightsword and whipping it out of the way. Llednar twirled with the force of the block until he was facing the dragoon, and then pressed his attack, slashing back and forth two quick times.

That one cycle nearly knocked the spear from Maxwell's hands, so hard was it. He barely managed to keep his grip on his spear and twirl it, pressing hard on the sword with the pole as he went around. The butt end twirled about, aiming for his enemy's face.

Llednar raised his shield, knocking the attack out wide. He slid his sword out from under Maxwell's spear, and drove the hilt forward into the bangaa's face. Maxwell staggered back from the blow, cursing beneath his breath. He shook himself, and then raised his weapon, preparing for the next exchange.

He was saved from this, however, when Llednar twirled suddenly to intercept an orb of water flying in at his back with his sword. The water lost its solid form, and simply dropped to the ground with a splash. Nobody noticed it, however, as Llednar began advancing on Eileen.

The alchemist, not pausing after throwing her first spell, reached out and grabbed tendrils of air with her magic, twirling and throwing them at her opponent. Llednar took another step forward, and then ducked, holding his shield up so that the wind parted over it, breaking off to the sides. He began rising, then, upon hearing something, twirled, raising his sword and shield in a double block of a thrust from Maxwell's spear.

Maxwell removed his rear grip on the spear and replaced it on top, just behind his other hand. Then, he put on pressure, and pushed the weapon so that it flipped around, smashing the rear end into the biskmatar's two weapons from below. Maxwell continued his weapon's spin until the point was back at Llednar's face, jabbing forward.

As Llednar threw his head back to let the attack fly over, behind him, Eileen reached for her magic. She raised wind from the air around them, and, as soon as a sufficiently sized tornado was in front of her, she drew one hand back and called out, "_Wasser_!"

Water blasted from that hand, filling the vortex and joining with it. Eileen continued feeding the thing water and wind while Llednar beat Maxwell back step after step, until there was quite a sizable waterspout in front of her, twirling and roaring in place. A grim smile crossed her face, and Eileen forced it forward.

Maxwell held both of his hands spaced about shoulders width apart on his spear, blocking a slash in the middle. The force of the blow buckled his knees, throwing the bangaa into a kneel. He glanced up, and knew that he probably wouldn't be fast enough to block the next attack, especially from that disadvantageous position. However, much to his relief, the dull roar which had been growing for some time became louder, and, suddenly, Llednar dodged to the side, out of the path of a gigantic waterspout which was racing across the floor. It turned, and began following the biskmatar.

Understanding what this meant, Maxwell rushed to cut off Llednar. The biskmatar, as well, had realised that Eileen was the source of this new development, and was making towards her.

Max, knowing that he was wasn't going to be fast enough, drove his spear into the earth, pulled back on it, and then jumped, flying towards his opponent across the room. All around him, he could dimly make out the sounds of the others' battles; gunshots, magical explosions, and metal ringing from metal. However, his own fight was all that he focused on.

He came out of his jumping position and touched his feet to the earth several metres early. This slowed him, sending him skidding over the earth to come to a stop in front of the biskmatar just next to the wall. Hoping to get the surprise, he swung his spear at him. Llednar, somehow, managed to block the blow with both sword and shield.

Exactly as Maxwell had hoped. The dragoon released the weapon without a second thought, and drew back his left hand. Electricity suddenly bunched up there, assuming the shape of a blade. Maxwell whipped it across, aiming at Llednar's exposed right side.

There was no way that he could possibly block it. Both Maxwell and Llednar knew. He couldn't dodge backwards, for Eileen's waterspout was still just behind him. To his left, there was only the wall.

So, that was what Llednar used.

He jumped suddenly, up and slightly towards the wall. His left foot came out, kicking hard into the stone. Then, flexing all of the muscles in his left foot and hip, he pushed off and up from that wall, spinning in the process.

As a result, the blade of electricity, which had been aimed at his chest, flew by beneath his feet. As Llednar spun in midair, he came to face the waterspout. His knightsword came out, and bit deep into its side. Then, somehow, in some way which made no sense, his weapon slashed through both water and wind, severing the waterspout completely in half. It dissipated, and fell into nothing but a puddle of water.

Behind him, Maxwell was just recovering from his missed attack, staggering back into position. He saw Llednar, still in the air, with his back exposed to him.

That's when his left foot flew backwards, kicking the bangaa in the face.

The force of the attack threw Maxwell back off of his feet, and sent him flying back several metres. Unfortunately, he had been perfectly in line with Eileen, trying to block Llednar from reaching her, so his body flew back and smashed full into Eileen, knocking the nu mou off of her feet.

The two fell, and hit the ground with Max on top of her. He rolled off of her as quickly as he could, and pushed himself to his feet. There was a pain inside of his skull somewhere, and his eyes were watering and seeing double. He realised with dim shock that his nose had been broken, and reached up to feel the blood pouring from his nostrils and mouth. That explained the metallic taste, at least.

He turned to look at Eileen, but she was already on her feet, holding her hands before her and burning with orange light. Llednar was only just turning as she drew one hand back and yelled, "_Meteorit_!"

Maxwell wondered for a moment where she was planning to get her meteor from, as they weren't outside. However, his eyes widened an instant later as fire and energy began gathering in Eileen's hand, building up into a gigantic ball of rock and flame. She took a deep breath, and then whipped her hand forward, releasing the meteor with a trail of flames behind it.

It crossed the distance between herself and Llednar incredibly fast. The entire process, from saying the words to the meteor reaching him, couldn't have taken more than one and a half second. However, even as the meteor closed, Llednar simply turned, brought out his shield and, as though it were no more than a stone, knocked the spell and sent it to fly into the opposite wall, exploding with flame and debris.

Eileen and Maxwell stared. He had just blocked the most powerful alchemist spell in existence away with nothing but his shield.

"Is that all that you have?" Llednar asked tiredly, glancing with mild interest at the small dent in his shield. He gave it a slight shake, and darkness gathered around it for an instant. The darkness dissipated, and the shield was as good as new again. "If it is, you should just let me murder you and have it done with."

The two stood there, panting and not responding for some time. Then, Maxwell glanced to Eileen and whispered, "Do you think now isss a good time?"

"Yes. Now."

The two moved suddenly, their hands each going to their hips. As one, they drew forth the weapons strapped there: one blade and one mace.

They each took a deep breath, and moved so that they were several steps apart from each other. Then, they each closed their eyes, and everything began leaning in towards them.

It was odd, having two blasts of Ultima being charged at the same time in such close proximity to each other. However, it didn't change the fact that it was happening. They all felt the energy building, and choosing the weapon held in either Maxwell or Eileen's hands to centre around.

Even as the power was building, they began taking steps forward, perfectly in time with each other. Llednar watched them carefully as they approached, their eyes shut, all of time and matter leaning in towards them. This could be difficult.

When they were about three metres away from the biskmatar, they each said, at the same time, "Ultima."

Then, they charged, each one leading with their weapons.

However, as they were about to strike, Llednar threw his arms out wide, smacking the blade with his sword and the mace with his shield. The contact lasted no longer than an instant, but it sent both alchemist and dragoon stumbling away from him. Each of their hands connected with the wall, and discharged, suddenly sending a rumbling throughout the entire chamber.

When the dust cleared from around the three figures, Eileen and Maxwell were staring at each other behind their opponent's back, eyes wide with terror. The wall in front of Eileen had a gigantic hemisphere carved into its face. Maxwell's blade was embedded into the wall in front of him up to the hilt, and there was a massive crack running from each of the edges out through the stone. From everything that they knew, that shouldn't have been possible. _Nothing_ could stop Ultima, not even a totema. And yet, he had managed to deflect _two_ blasts of it at once!

Llednar turned to regard his two opponents, one at a time, and shook his head.

"That was disappointing," he muttered. "And now look. You're both too exhausted to raise a weapon."

Eileen dropped her mace, and turned suddenly to face the biskmatar, yelling, "_Aufflackern_!"

Llednar glanced down at his feet, awaiting the rumbling which foretold the explosion. A somewhat confused expression crossed his face, however, when it didn't come. It wasn't until he felt the sudden build up of energy behind him that he understood. Then, he turned to face the small kernel of flame which was behind him, and jumped, holding his shield out in the direction of the spell.

It exploded, and the force slammed into the biskmatar's shield. It sent him flying backwards, but not in an uncontrolled limp bundle or anything like that; no, this was with grace and measured balance. He twirled in midair even as he was flying, holding his knightsword and his smouldering shield out to either side like wings to guide him in his flight. Eileen staggered back a step as he came in, but was too exhausted to really dodge. His sword moved forward, slashing through her robe and biting into the skin. He ran her through on his blade until his feet touched the ground, just in front her. Then, he ripped the weapon back out, and she fell, gasping in pain.

"The ability to alter existing spells to fit the situation..." he whispered, nodding slowly. "Not to mention, managing to do it _after_ creating a blast of Ultima. You _are_ quite powerful."

He said nothing more, though, as he turned away from the alchemist and left her in an expanding pool of red.

* * *

Isaac twirled around his opponent, turning his blade deftly in his left hand as he did. He pressed the dull back edge of his gunblade against the fairy's back, and heaved with all his might, yelling, "Ben!"

The Blue mage glanced over, and instantly understood. He dodged, as quickly as he could, around his own fairy, and delivered a shoulder check to its side. The thing fumbled forward, directly into the path of Isaac's fairy. The moogle had thrown it bodily across the floor, and now the two were tangled up in each other.

So, it was easy for Ben to twirl around so that he was kneeling below them, reverse his grip on one sabre, and run both through in one stabbing motion.

Even as the weapon passed through the two, Ben felt the resistance on his sabre lessening. As he finished driving it backwards, he was surprised to see the two figures stop moving, and suddenly crumble to dust around the blade.

However, he didn't allow his surprise to show for long. Instead, he stood up and glanced over, taking in the situation.

"You know Mog Aid, right?"

"Of course, kupo."

"Good. You go and help Eileen while I hold off Llednar. I'm thinking we'll need some heavy magical support to bring him down."

"Got it."

Without another word, the two parted, each heading away from each other. Isaac moved swiftly, trying to keep out of the biskmatar's attention. Ben started off slow, twirling his sabres around in his hands and taking deep breaths.

His fingers snapped shut around the hilts, bunching up into fists, and then he was running, full-tilt, at Llednar.

The biskmatar heard him, and turned to face the Blue mage. His eyes widened slightly at the glowing eyes, but a small grin crossed his face.

As soon as he was within range, Llednar swung his sword in a rapid horizontal chop. Ben, without pausing to consider the action, dropped, sliding his forward underneath the attack. This brought his feet between Llednar's, standing above him. The Blue mage kicked out in opposite directions, sending his feet for the biskmatar's ankles.

Llednar, without pausing for a moment, jumped, not at all phased by the sudden attack. He used his momentum to send himself forward, bringing both of his feet together. He drove them down in a solid kick at Ben's chest.

The Blue mage rolled, easily dodging the move. As he came around onto his back again, he sat up, swinging a sabre at Llednar. It was blocked by the knightsword, but that attack was quickly followed up by another from his second sabre. Llednar began moving his shield to block, but, realising that he would be too slow with the heavy implement, he instead threw his shoulder back, pulling his body out of the way of the stab. Using that momentum, he twirled out of the way, tugging his knightsword out of the block. As he finished, he turned to face Ben, who was already standing.

"Fast," the biskmatar nodded, his eyes shining. He held up his shield, and suddenly, it disappeared into a puff of black smoke. "I'll need to be as light as possible for this."

"Shut up," Ben stated, stopping the biskmatar short, "and stop trying to distract me. It won't work."

The biskmatar stared at the Blue mage; watching his eyes, observing his stance, evaluating his breathing. Then, he said, "You've lost control of your magic before, haven't you?"

"All the time," Ben growled, crouching down lower to the ground suddenly. "Why?"

"Because there's something in you that's not human…" he replied.

"I could say the same of you," Ben muttered.

The two of them remained staring at each other for a moment, each realising that the other had read them almost perfectly. Then, they were lunging for each other, weapons leading.

It was fast, short, and brutal. They each threw off several powerful attack patterns, their weapons either slamming into each other or passing through empty space through which the other had just dodged. At one point, Ben managed to brace both of his sabres on the length of the knightsword, then lifted himself up, spinning over the three weapons to kick at Llednar's face.

As the foot was coming in at the biskmatar's face, Llednar simply hissed out, "_Abgrund_."

Black energy blasted out from the human and smashed into Ben, lifting off of the ground and sending him flying clean across the room. The weapons in his hands went skittering away, and he hit the ground hard, wheezing. He placed one hand onto the ground, trying to move, but felt a sudden pain in his chest. He continued trying, but found the world was spinning about his head.

"You poisoned me," he muttered weakly, gazing up at Llednar.

"Yes," the biskmatar nodded, smiling. "Yes I did."

"Shit," Ben said, even as Llednar advanced on him with his sword raised.

* * *

Eileen groaned in pain, shifting slightly, and Isaac glanced to her, his eyes critical. "How are you?"

"Uh…" she looked down at her chest, and the blood that was matting her torn robes. "It still hurts a bit, but I think I'm fine."

"Right, kupo," he nodded, shaking out his paw violently. "I couldn't quite seal up the gash, but I managed to repair most of your bodily organs. See if you can gather up some magic to help us out."

Eileen started nodding, then stared at him. "Wait. You managed to seal up a stab directly through my chest with only _Mog Aid_!"

"Yeah," he nodded, glancing distractedly over his shoulder. He turned back to her, and said, "Say, would you mind watching this for me?"

He passed her his gunblade, attached to the Materia Blade. She nodded, staring at him in confusion. "Sure. Why?"

"Ben looks like he needs some help," he explained, reaching to the silver hilt which protruded from above his right shoulder. "I think that the Materia Blade won't give me enough support in this case."

"You're going to fight Llednar on your own?"

"That's about right, kupo. Don't move too much; you'll reopen the wound."

Isaac turned away from her, and drew out the Avuir Blue. As it leapt from its sheath, Isaac took a deep breath, and his posture straightened dramatically. Then, he began advancing on Llednar.

The biskmatar had already recalled his shield, just in case Ben should try one more attack before Llednar finished him off. He was drawing his blade back, preparing to bring it down upon Ben's head.

Then, all of a sudden, there was a flash of blue, and metal rang off of metal.

A brown-furred moogle stood beneath the biskmatar's attack, holding the knightsword at bay with a blue blade held in one hand.

"What?" Llednar said, staring at the mogknight.

"Forgot about me, didn't you?" he said, and a small smile came to his face.

Llednar pulled his weapon back, then slashed horizontally forward at him. Isaac pulled a full backflip, not even setting or tucking in the process. He landed without a stagger, and launched himself forward again, blade slashing.

Llednar, surprised by the sudden dodge followed by the even more sudden counterattack, blocked on his knightsword, the weapon vibrating with the interception. Isaac, not slowing, took another step around the weapon, twirling perfectly on one foot to send a second attack in at Llednar. It stopped abruptly on the biskmatar's shield, Isaac's eyes widening at the strength of it.

The human, having recovered from his surprise, swept his sword back across at Isaac's head. The moogle ducked under the swipe, pushing off backwards with the balls of his feet as he did. He slid back several steps, his headfur still rustling from the attack's displaced wind. He came back up straight, holding his blade vertically and upside down, so that the tip was aimed at the ground. The biskmatar's slashing knightsword slammed into it, and stopped dead.

There was silence as Maxwell, Eileen, and Ben stared at the moogle. He was panting, but no sweat showed in his brown fur. He had just rushed in, exchanged blows with Llednar Twem, and gotten back without a scratch.

"You're very interesting..." Llednar said, his voice still emotionless as those strange eyes gazed down at Isaac. "You're the first I've met to match me in combat."

"What can I say?" the moogle muttered. "You're good, but you're nowhere near as good as my teacher or the pirate king."

The three glanced up at that. Pirate king?

However, Isaac didn't get a chance to elaborate, because the next moment, Llednar threw his shield out in a punch. The moogle dodged back, keeping completely out of range. His blade started attacking, but stopped abruptly in order to block a slash which was coming his way. He pulled his weapon back, and then jumped over a slash. As he was in the air, he raised the blade over his head and brought it down in a chop.

Llednar raised his knightsword and his shield, blocking the attack with both. He quickly leaned forward, pushing as hard as he could. The moogle, having nothing to brace himself against, flew back, momentarily out of control.

His wings flared out, though, and righted him in midair. He gave a couple quick and hard flaps to get himself steady again, then he leaned forward and powered towards the biskmatar with his weapon leading.

The biskmatar leaned his body violently out of the way, so that Isaac flew by his head, then came back around, chopping at the flying moogle. Isaac twirled in midair blocking with the Avuir Blue. The force of the blow spun Isaac around one full time, and threw him at the earth. However, he timed it well enough that he went down into a crouch on the ground, still totally ready.

Llednar stabbed forward, and Isaac sidestepped it, narrowly avoiding having himself skewered. However, he stopped his sidestep short as the shield came forward at him in a punch. Isaac, knowing it was his only option, dodged back the way he came. As he did so, though, he realised that the knightsword was still there. He stopped dead, caught off-balance between Llednar's arms.

That was when Llednar raised his foot, and brought it up to kick Isaac in the face. It lifted the moogle off of the ground, and he hit the ground stumbling and off-balance for a moment.

However, that moment was all that Llednar needed. He rushed in, his knightsword leading, and stabbed.

He was stopped from delivering the killing blow again, though, as something hit his blade from the side and sent him into a violent spin out of the way. When he finished it, he stood straight, and stared directly ahead.

Standing in front of the brown moogle was now a white one, her blade red instead of blue. Behind her, Isaac stood up, and then walked up beside her, holding his own weapon ready.

"You don't touch him," Lini informed Llednar, not showing the least bit of concern at his cold stare. "He's _mine_."

"Ready, kupo?"

"Oh yeah."

The two of them attacked at once.

Llednar jumped backwards, out of the way of their two attacks. Then, he took a quickstep forward and slashed downward. The brown moogle blocked it with the blue weapon, and the white moogle sent her weapon slashing in at Llednar's shins.

The biskmatar jumped, going over the attack easily, and then slapped his hands together on the hilt of his sword. He brought it down in a massive chop, and both moogles jumped out of the way to either side of him. As his blade smashed into the floor, the stone beneath screamed and cracked.

The two moogles both attacked as the biskmatar landed, and Llednar was forced to throw both of his hands out dangerously wide, shield and knightsword each blocking one blade.

Realising just how dangerous his current position was, Llednar took a deep breath, and focused his energy. Then, his grip on his knightsword tightened, and he pulled it away from its block on the blue blade. Then, he spun, hard.

He moved fast. Much faster than he should have been able to. He spun in a perfect circle, his sword reaching out for the moogles' flesh. It passed by Isaac first, and bit into his chest, drawing a long red line across and sending him falling away. Lini managed to get out of the way, but even she recognized that that was only because Isaac's flesh had slowed the weapon for her.

Isaac hit the ground with a cry as Llednar finished his spin, facing Lini. His eyes were narrow as he stared at her, sizing her up again.

"You're the first person to ever dodge my ripcircle…" he whispered.

"Get used to it," she recommended.

"I don't intend to," he growled at her.

"Lini!"

Both of them turned upon hearing the voice, and their eyes widened as they saw Isaac throw his weapon, sending it rotating slowly through the air towards Lini.

Lini reached out with her left hand, leaving it open as the Avuir's hilt approached.

Llednar brought his knightsword down in a mighty chop, the blade smashing into her wrist.

His eyes widened as a metallic sound rang out and his weapon came to a sudden halt on her wrist.

The hilt of the Avuir Blue fell into Lini's paw, and she closed it around it. Then, she glanced at the knightsword, stopped dead on her trademark bracer.

"Now," she informed him, "you're doomed."

The next few moments were very difficult to keep track of. Suddenly, Lini was moving, but it was impossible to see her in any detail. She was simply a small splotch of white, with two streaks of red and blue spinning around her. Llednar raised his knightsword and shield in several desperate blocks, but each time they were thrown violently away after stopping the attack. Llednar was forced back, step after step, as his defences were torn apart one after another. He used all of his skill, and every bit of training he had in an attempt to block all of the offensive power coming at him. However, it wasn't enough, and he knew it.

Suddenly, he held his shield out for a block, and Lini's body stopped moving for a moment, as it became possible to see her again. However, her two weapons were just as fast as ever, and both smashed into the shield at the same moment.

There was no delay as the two blades bit into the shadowy steel and ripped the shield into three pieces. As soon as they finished passing through the space, the three fragments all dispersed, becoming so much smoke.

Llednar took one more step back, and then raised his knightsword, held in two hands, horizontally in a block before him.

Lini not slowing at all, took a step forward, then jumped, going into a sudden front flip. She disappeared from view again, and the two blades twirled in a circle around her, moving so quickly that they ceased being red and blue and simply became a disc of purple around her. They all heard the two weapons ringing off of Llednar's knightsword a few dozen times over the course of that second, and they saw the sparks scattering from the point of contact.

Then, she landed, not at all winded or dizzy, and Llednar stared as his knightsword fell into two pieces in front of him.

He dropped the hilt, and took a step back, finding his back pushed up against the wall.

Lini spread both of her arms, holding them so that they made a straight line across her body. Then, she closed her eyes, and concentrated.

It happened far faster than when Eileen and Maxwell had done it. They had had to build up the energy. However, this time, when Lini charged two shots of Ultima, it happened instantaneously, the energy just appearing and wrapping around each weapon. At that moment, all of existence turned into a massive hurricane, everything being thrown around and pulled towards the eye of the storm, centred around Lini.

Her eyes opened, and Lini brought both weapons across in a scissors motion.

"Ultima!" she roared, and the two weapon touched down on either side of Llednar's very surprised look head.

An explosion rocked the room, pushing the four fallen friends several metres along the floor away from the centre of the blast. A form flew backwards out from the centre of the explosion, smoke trailing its form. Lini, her white fur singed black in places, landed heavily and rolled over several times before coming to a halt next to Isaac. Her chest was heaving, and there were burn marks and gashes all over her. However, both of the Avuirs, covered in soot, were still clamped in her paws.

The four stared at the cloud of smoke that had once been Llednar, and shook their heads in disbelief. She had just defeated Llednar. Lini the mogknight had actually just defeated the great Llednar, Biskmatar of Bervania.

There were several moments of wonderment, before, suddenly, an odd noise rang out across the cavern. It confused them at first, but then they all placed it:

Clapping.

The smoke began clearing, and all five stared at the form which was just discernable within it.

"You are most powerful," Llednar said, the smoke finally fully leaving his form. His skin was perfectly clean and average coloured; his clothing wasn't burnt or ripped; his hair didn't even look messed at all. It was as though they hadn't touched him.

"But…" Lini gasped, staring. "I hit you, kupo. I hit you with _two charges of Ultima_!"

"Yes, you did," Llednar nodded. "You are the first to ever actually land an attack on me."

"You can't be alive," the mogknight went on, shaking her head. "Nothing is stronger than Ultima. Nothing!"

His eyes turned to ice, and a slight upwards curve came to his lips. "Not anymore, moogle. However, while I would love to duel with you again, I find that you are too much of a threat. You are far too powerful to be left alive." His eyes turned, and fell on Isaac, lying right next to Lini with blood pumping from his chest. "Both of you are…"

With that, he began approaching them. All those in the room were aware of an energy building in his right palm, an odd sort of emptiness radiated out from it. As they stared at it, they all saw the darkness which was gathering in it.

"That's Omega…" Eileen muttered from across the room.

"Llednar, that ability is forsaken!" the judgemaster's voice rang out across the chamber.

"I have not used it yet, judgemaster," the biskmatar said simply, still walking relentlessly towards the two moogles. "You can't arrest me until I've used it."

"Run!" Eileen yelled at them. She made several laboured sounds, and finally managed to drag herself to her knees. "Get away!"

"Can you move, kupo?" Lini whispered, ignoring the others.

"I don't think so, kupo," Isaac replied, his breathing shallow and his face pained. He glanced towards Lini and shook his head. "So this is how it ends, then?"

"He can't kill you if you're already dead…"

"Kupopo?"

All of a sudden, the pain in Isaac's chest intensified a thousand fold, and he gasped, staring down. Lini had just shoved both of the Avuir Blades into him, running him through the the silver and gold hilts. Her paws shook on the amethyst pommels, and as he looked up at her face, he saw the resolution there.

"These weapons are yours now," she informed him. "Use them well, kupo."

"Lini…" he managed to gasp, still unable to believe what she had done.

"I'm sorry, Isaac," she muttered.

Then, her grip on the hilts tightened, and she gave a hard shove. The force threw Isaac back, several metres away from her. Isaac hit the floor hard, and collapsed backwards against the ground. The pain was everywhere. It was spreading from his chest to control every single nerve in his body. However, he forced himself to watch Lini.

She was still looking at him, her breathing low and heavy. Behind her, Llednar had finally reached her, and had drawn back his hand.

The biskmatar drove his hand, wreathed in darkness and emptiness, down at her.

"Omega."

Isaac's vision went out and his body slumped forward just as that hand ripped through Lini, stabbing her through the chest and ripping her life away.


	79. The Next Step

_The sky was set out before him, a perfect, never-ending dome of blue and white. It made him alive, feeling the air running by, catching and tugging lightly at him. For a moment, whenever he stood there, staring up at the clouds, it helped him to forget. To erase everything that was, everything to come, and, most soothingly, everything that had already come to pass. It was almost like it was carrying him closer, with every moment of watching, to that secret that was hidden from him, and yet dangled so tantalizingly in front of him. Perhaps, if he remained there long enough, he'd be able to touch—  
_

Isaac sat up sharply, gasping air into his lungs as quickly as he could. However, as his head moved upwards, he realized what a bad idea this had been. The world began spinning around him as though he were on a top, and he felt a dull ache in his chest. His gasping continued, but it made his head swim more with each breath.

"He's awake," a voice nearby said. "That nightmare must have scared him out of his fever."

A pair of hands took his shoulders and forced him back down into a sitting position. He didn't fight the push; he couldn't really, with his stomach in his mouth as it was.

"Just stay lying down, Isaac," the voice commanded, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Isaac placed it as belonging to Guinness.

"What happened, kupo?" he asked, and his voice came out thin and raw. Isaac realized how dry his throat was, and began coughing.

Guinness, now leaning over the moogle so that he could see him, brought a wineskin to Isaac's lips. He gave the moogle a small sip, and let him get it down. He continued giving him small sips as he spoke. "You got beaten up quite badly during that battle. One deep slash across the chest, and two stab wounds directly through."

"But the judge," Isaac muttered, not comprehending or remembering things very well. "The judge should have healed me, kupo."

"It got a bit complicated," a voice, which Isaac quickly identified as Eileen's, said. "When Llednar discharged Omega, he made a pretty substantial tear in the engagement. The very outstretches made it to you. When Cid ended the engagement, he reversed all of the injuries he could. We thought, at first, that he'd managed to heal yours, too."

"However," Guinness said, taking up the tale again, "you didn't wake from your slumber after the battle. We looked and found that you had some substantial internal bleeding. To keep you from feeling anything, we used our magic to keep you unconcious while we healed you along the road. It took a while, but, with a day or so of rest, you should be fine."

"How long was I out, kupo?"

"Four days. We retreated back to Roda Volcano while you were out."

Isaac nodded slowly, his eyes widening in surprise. Apparently he had been quite badly injured. Llednar's slash and Lini's stabs—

Isaac's mind froze, and his eyes widened. He sat up sharply, ignoring the dizziness as he stared at the two nu mou. Not breathing, he said one word.

"Lini?"

There were several moments of painful silence as the two nu mou, leaning in over his vision, glanced up and looked at each other. There was an odd look in their eyes.

"Isaac, she…" Eileen started, and then stopped, biting her lip. "She got hit point blank with Omega. It's a blast of concentrated nothingness; essentially, a miniature black hole of magic. She…"

"Where's Lini, kupo?" Isaac demanded.

Eileen looked at him, her mouth very wide and her eyes settling on anything other than his. Then, she glanced down, reached into her robes, and pulled something out.

Isaac didn't move at all, his chest not even raising to breathe, as the alchemist delicately laid the worked bracer with the engraved blade and crescent moon design of the house of Lini the mogknight on his sheets.

After about thirty seconds of simply looking at it, the moogle reached forward gingerly and touched the cool, worked metal. His paw traced its perfectly worked circumfrence, designed specifically for Lini's arm, and then fell into the grooves of the engraved symbol on it.

Isaac stood up suddenly, sending the bracer tumbling off of the bed. Then, he walked by the two surprised nu mou, and, stumbling slightly from his dizziness, headed out through the entrance of the room, a cavern leading through the volcanic rock.

The two of them watched him as he retreated down the cavern for a few moments. Then, Eileen lowered her head, saying, "Crap."

"I have to go and stop him," Guinness said, shaking his head in annoyance. "He'll get himself killed if he goes out like that."

She nodded. "I'll tell you what happens at the meeting."

"I don't know which I dread more," the white mage said. "Attending that dark meeting, or trying to tend to Isaac while he's in that state."

"Don't worry. I know Isaac. He'll listen to you if you explain it to him."

"Are you saying that because it's true, or because you're trying to reassure me?"

Eileen didn't answer, simply shaking her head hopelessly to him.

"Don't worry," he said. "I understand. Now go. They'll need you there."

She thanked him, and then set off down the same hallway that Isaac had taken. She didn't even look at the few bangaas who passed her on her way.

The past few days had been difficult for her. After the battle had ended with Llednar, it wasn't too long until Marche and his lot had finished up with their job. However, instead of being pulled along the fabrics of space and time to St Ivalice, they had found themselves instead scattered around the raised plateau in the Delia Dunes. All of them were confused by this sudden change in their fortunes, None had expected to be sent back to Ivalice. Each one had thought that this would be their final battle; their last, great duel with a totema, followed by their reward of either being sent home or being united with their true selves.

But instead, they had been disappointed by a land full of sand and heat. They hadn't had long to consider this, though, because a large group of the palace's guards appeared to try and detain them after that. Montblanc had managed to buy them some time by slowing or stopping most of the enemy spellcasters and ranged units, and as they were retreating Montblanc and Guinness had managed to give them enough speed and protection spells that there was no fear of them being captured or slowed down.

It was several hours later when a rattled Marche had called a halt and performed a headcount. That was when the rest of Clan Nutsy had discovered that Lini was missing. Eileen was forced to detail the terrifying battle with Llednar and Lini's death, as Maxwell was too exhausted from carrying Isaac while he ran and Ben was busy scouting to make sure that nobody had followed them. Much like when Robert was struck with Omega, there was no body; all of her physical entity had winked into non-existance, leaving only her gauntlet behind.

The news left everybody rattled. Grans had buried herself in Guinness's arms upon hearing of the "small one's" demise, and the others stared at Eileen in non-belief. Out of Clan Nutsy, it seemed that Marche was the most rattled. He had immediately called a rest for the night, and preceeded to walk away from the rest of the group. After a while, Montblanc had gone after him, and the two hadn't returned until nightfall.

The following morning, after a quiet breakfast, Maxwell hesitantly suggested that they fall back to Roda Volcano. The others had agreed, and so they headed to the base of the Red Dragons in almost complete silence.

The entire way, Eileen had dreaded Isaac's awakening. She'd expected him to yell, cry, deny it, lash out, or just collapse. The reality, it turned out, had been much worse. She wanted to help him more than anything, just as he'd helped her after she'd killed Caesar and they'd defeated the Worldwyrm. Even to stand by and watch would be enough. But this? Having him walk away, with no apparent reaction, was torture.

She threw all of this jumble of feelings away from herself, however, as she stepped into the central room of the volcano, the former core, headed towards the table set up in the centre of the room. The senior members of Clan Nutsy, minus Guinness and plus the young vierra assassin who had assisted in the defeat of Mateus, Ben, Maxwell, and several of the leading members of the Red Dragons, were assembled. Amongst the members of Nutsy, all of their eyes were bloodshot, whether from tears, lack of sleep, or hang overs, Eileen couldn't tell. They needed her to be strong, and that was what she would be.

"I'm sorry that I'm late," she said, taking her seat at the table next to Ben. "Isaac woke up, and I had to inform him."

"Of course," Marche nodded. Compared to his appearance before the battle with Mateus, he seemed deflated, somehow. "Thank you. Now, to business. There are several things that we have to consider before anything else. Firstly, I would officially like to have a funeral for Lini tomorrow. I don't know if Isaac would like to say a few words at it, but—"

"He won't," Ben interrupted.

"I think we should let hi—"

"He won't," Ben snapped, glaring at everyone assembled. "Nobodypressure him to."

Marche regarded the Blue mage calmly, then said, "Alright. It will be happening tomorrow at dawn. Don't feel mandated to come.

"Second, and quite likely the most important, we have to decide where we are going from here. Originally, we all believed that upon destroying the five totema, we would destroy the foundations of this world, returning it to its original state as the world of St Ivalice. However, this appears to have been false."

"Marche," came a voice, and everybody turned to see Montblanc, slightly hunched over, glancing at the human sitting beside him. His fur was ragged, and clearly hadn't been washed in a few days. "All I can say is that there was no reason to believe otherwise. We have no reasonable explanation as to why we're still here, kupo. Even the greatest tomes sa—"

"Nobody here is blaming you, Montblanc," Marche said, raising his hands to calm the moogle. "All of us thought it would work. However, we have to accept that it didn't, and try to come up with a new plan. Unfortunately, there is very little that we can go on. Thus, I have come to a decision, and some of you won't like it. I must speak with Prince Mewt."

Instantly, all of the heads around the room looked up, staring at Marche in surprise.

"I know, I know!" he said to prevent their forthcoming questions. "It's impossible to get an audience with the prince, especially as an outlaw. I also know that my head is worth well over one hundred million gil as of last count, and that the palace is one of the best defended places in Ivalice. However, it's all I can think of. It seems as though Mewt created this world; who else would know how to destroy it?"

"What's your plan?" Maxwell asked, filling the silence that Marche left with his words.

"Gift Day is in two week's time," Marche stated, and everybody around the table suddenly perked up again, this time in excitement. "We have some extremely skilled craftsmen here. If we can create a great enough gift, we may win ourselves an audience."

"Do you think it will actually work," Caitlin asked. "I mean, I hate to say, but we have very little tactical knowledge of that place. Even Robert and I only know a small portion of that place, and we used to live there."

"That's why we're sending in some moles before-hand," Marche stated. His eyes turned, and they came to settle upon Eileen, Ben and Max, seated in a row. "I need you four to go there while we're preparing the gift."

"And scout for you?" Ben demanded, raising an eyebrow. "Sorry, Marche, but even I'm not good enough to pull that off. This is Bervenia we're talking about."

"I don't want you to scout," Marche said, shrugging slowly. "If we pay attention, we should be able to find our way back out the way we are lead in for Gift Day. However, what we need is for there to be fewer guards to be protecting the prince. Now, there are currently three sets of guards protecting the prince: Llednar's minutemen taskforce, Babus's royal guard, and the mercenaries of Khorin Blackhand. If we can remove one of those layers, it will make things much easier."

"So, you want us to…?"

"Speak to Babus," Marche stated, "and get him on our side."

The three of them stared at him, each one completely unbelieving of what they'd just heard.

"Convince Babus to let a group of outlaws approach the prince?" Ben demanded. "How the hell are we supposed to pull that off?"

"The best way I can think of is convincing him that it's for the prince's own good. It won't be easy—"

"That's for sure."

"—but," Marche continued, glaring at the Blue mage, "if you approach him the correct way, then it will make our mission far easier. Do the three of you have any other questions?"

Ben looked as though he were about to speak again, but a swift kick in the shin under the table from Eileen silenced him.

"Good," Marche nodded. "You can go now, if you wish. We'll just be discussing the matter of getting materials for our gift and such." He paused uncomfortably, then added, "Please offer Isaac my condolences. He—"

"It's alright, Marche," Eileen interrupted him, trying her best to keep her voice kind. "Please, don't let us distract you from your meeting any longer." She glanced at Ben and Maxwell. "Let's go."

The three of them rose, and, at a gesture from Maxwell, the other members of the Red Dragons also left the table. They stepped out of the main chambre, and Maxwell took the lead, heading down the winding paths of caverns and tunnels through the volcano. They reached the outside of the great spire of rock, and Maxwell nodded to the other few bangaas as they left. Then he turned back to Eileen and Ben.

"How's Isaac?" he asked, and even Ben looked slightly intrigued by this.

"I don't know. He just got up and left as soon as he heard about Lini."

The bangaa nodded, and Ben turned his head away from both of them, closing his eyes. After a moment, the Blue mage said, "Excuse me. I'll be right back."

With that, he stepped back into the volcano, and disappeared from view.

The other two looked to each other in confusion, then shrugged. They waited, probably about ten minutes, and then, suddenly, they saw the mage returning, a satisfied look on his face.

"What were you doing?"

"Spying," Ben stated simply.

"On their meeting?"

"What else?"

"Why?" Eileen demanded, glancing around to make sure nobody was near enough to overhear their conversation.

"Well, isn't it obvious?" Ben asked, looking from one to the other. When he saw that neither had any idea what he was talking about, he shook his head, laughing. "Wow, I can't believe I'm the smartest one for a change."

"What are you talking about?"

"They suspect us," Ben said, shrugging. The other two opened their mouths at the same time, but Ben silenced them by raising a hand and speaking. "Hear me out. Over the past three years, they haven't had a single operation or base or anything else discovered by the palace. This was, arguably, their most important job so far. Naturally, they went to extra lengths to ensure that nobody would find out about it. Then, all of a sudden, the very day that they decide to launch their attack, the palace knows, and they set up an ambush for us.

"Now, unless the palace has some sort of way of scrying that lets them locate, hear, and see somebody which can get past Montblanc and Guinness's magics, and not be detected by any of us, there's only one way that the palace could possibly know what we were planning, and when. Namely:a mole."

"And you're suggesting that one of us—?"

"No," Ben interrupted the bangaa, shaking his head. "I don't think that any of us would do that. That said, they don't know us that well. We're the outsiders in this group; the only ones who might have something to gain from selling out Nutsy, and also the only ones who've been away from Nutsy's members for a long enough time to get a message out to the palace. If Marche has a wit in his head, he's suspecting us."

"But what would any of us gain from selling out Nutsy?" Eileen asked, still repulsed by the idea.

"Think about it. All four of us have been leading extremely succesful underground and illegal groups for the past few years. Now, we all know that the palace has the resources available to crush the Red Dragons, shoot down the Scarlet Rapier, discover the source of all of the counter-palace sentiments happening in Cadoan, or comb the Koringwood for New Cyril. Have they yet? No. Why? Most people would assume that it's because either we're too good, or because the palace's abilities are lesser than we thought. Alternatively, though, it could be that the leader of one of these groups is selling information to the palace in return for protection or safe passage."

There was silence for a moment as the alchemist and the dragoon stared at him. Then, Eileen said, very quietly, "They were talking about that in there?"

"Marche is a good leader; of course they were."

The three of them were quiet after they said it, each one looking at the other. It was then that it dawned on Eileen, and she knew that it was the same for the other.

Eileen didn't trust Maxwell or Ben. They didn't trust her.

All three were keenly aware of how quiet it was. Finally, Eileen spoke.

"We watch each other's backs. We all watch each other, we make sure that Nutsy doesn't move against us, and we don't move against each other unless we are completely certain of treachery. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Deal."

They all watched each other's eyes for a moment. Then, they nodded as one.

"Alright then," Maxwell said, "how about we handle what's in front of our faces before we start trying to stab each other in the back."

"Right. How do we convince Babus without having him blow us apart?"

"We've met him before, so that gives a bit of an edge."

"Yes, but I dueled him before," Eileen muttered, rubbing the skin behind her neck. "I don't know how much that helped our relationship."

"I've almost killed Isaac a few times," Ben muttered, "that never hurt our relationship."

"Yeah, but, uh, I don't think you did quite the same as us?"

"How so?"

"He used an explosion to collapse a building on top of me. I cast the death spell on him. Three times."

Ben and Maxwell stared at her. Both of their mouths were hanging open a small bit. Finally, the Blue mage muttered, "Yeah, that's a bit more intense than Isaac and I."

"You both survived that?"

"I'm a good mage," Eileen said, slightly offended. "I just blew a hole through the debris as it fell."

"And him surviving three of your death spells?"

"Yeah. I thought the point of a death spell was that you weren't supposed to survive it."

"Oh shut up." Eileen shook her head, muttering. "He was much better than me at the time."

"At the time? Meaning now?"

A dangerous smile came across Eileen's face, and several sparks of orange flashed from her fingertips. "We'll see."

"Eileen," Maxwell said sharply. She glanced at him, and was surprised to find that he was glaring. "We're going to speak with Babus. We aren't attacking him."

She looked as though she were about to speak, then thought better of it. Instead, she bit her lip, then said, "Alright. I'm just saying; if we do get into a combat situation, I can hold him off."

"Fine. In that case, we—"

Maxwell stopped speaking at a look from Ben. The Blue mage nodded, and they all turned to see a very tired and peeved-looking Guinness approaching them. The White mage's robes were covered in soot and dirt, and his fur showed a bit of sweat. As he drew closer, the nu mou seemed to notice them, and raised a hand in greeting. All of them returned the gesture half-heartedly, each one wondering why the normally well kempt spellcaster was so messy.

"Your friend," he said as he came up to them, not waiting for the question, "is too headstrong for his own good."

"You couldn't find Isaac?" Eileen asked, concern coming to her voice as she recalled the moogle's situation when she'd left him. In all of the politics and planning, she'd forgotten all about it.

"Oh, I found him," the nu mou muttered, shaking a hand at her. "It didn't do me much good though. He wouldn't stop. He barely seemed to recognize that I was there. And, well, what can I say? I am not in as good of form as I once was. I couldn't keep up with him."

"So he's gone?" Eileen demanded.

"At current, yes, he's gone." The nu mou shook his head in annoyance, then held his arms out far to the side. "I'm sorry. I can't go after him. Clan Nutsy needs me, and he's too fast for me anyways."

"Will he be alright?"

"I would prefer it if he wasn't out after nightfall. The cold wouldn't be good for him, as well as any creatures seeking an easy and weakened meal."

Eileen nodded, then thanked him again for his help, giving him a pat on the back as he left. She turned back to Ben and Maxwell to find them staring at her, confusion on their faces. Realizing that she hadn't explained to them what had happened earlier, she quickly related the events of the moogle's awakening. When she was finished, Maxwell shook his head and cursed under his breath.

Ben, however, simply rolled his eyes, and muttered, "Always at the most inconvenient time."

"What?"

"Him and his personal crises. You too, actually," he said, nodding to the nu mou. "You guys always manage to break down at the moment that it will cause the greatest possible inconvenience to everybody. Now excuse me."

He turned to leave, but Maxwell's voice stopped him.

"Where are you going?"

The mage glanced back, his eyes flashing blue slightly more intensely for a moment. "Somebody's got to track him down."

"You are?" Eileen asked, surprised.

"Why not? Do you know anybody else in this compound who's a better tracker?"

Not waiting for another reply, the mage turned, and began walking away.


	80. “Where do we stand, kupo?”

Ben didn't hesitate, going straight to the gate. His tread was soft, and his eyes partially lidded as he breathed in deeply through his nose. A cascade of smells wafted into his nostrils, bombarding him with a dozen different instincts. For the most part, there was the heavy and oppressive smell that bangaas gave off; an equal cocktail of blood stored close to the skin's surface and veiled aggression. He nearly stumbled at the first breath, so surprised was he by the strength of it. True, he had spent time around bangaas since acquiring his affinity towards hunting cats, but never so many in such a concentrated area.

He shook his head to clear it of the distractions, knowing what they would lead to. Of course, it would be the same as whenever he was around a large group. There was always that instinct in the back of his mind that was urging him either to run for his life or strike his predators before they noticed him. With so much unbridled aggression in the air, he knew it would only be harder to quell should he lose control here.

He kept walking through the thin crowd standing in the camp, enjoying the feeling whenever somebody happened to glance his way, then suddenly turn their head away and hurry off in the opposite direction.

He approached the gate, and none of the guards even moved to greet or question him. They simply gave him a quick look, then returned their attention to anybody else who happened to be passing by at the moment.

The human stepped out of the Roda Volcano community, and moved some distance away before stopping.

Ben took a deep breath in through his nose, reaching around for the scents surrounding him. It had to be there. There were few enough moogles in the area. As far as he was aware, there were no moogles living with the Red Dragons, meaning that the last moogle to pass by here would have been Montblanc, several days earlier.

Something clicked in Ben's borrowed instincts, and his posture stiffened suddenly. He bent slowly, searching for the source of it. It seemed right, somehow. The scent carried not only the slightly animal musk of a moogle, and the oddly pure and uncontaminated scent that accompanied recent White magic, but also the heavy mechanical smell which was particular to Isaac.

"There you are," Ben muttered, nodding slowly. He opened his mouth, and he became suddenly aware that it was watering. He blinked once, then shook his head roughly. Right now, he had to quell the thoughts of a hunting animal. The tracker inside of him had to hold dominance.

For a moment, the animal and the human within Ben wrestled each other for dominance. He closed his eyes, and his breathing became deep and rhythmic.

When the mage's eyes opened again, the blue light emitting from them was somewhat dimmer than it had been before. He remained prone a moment more, simply breathing.

Then he was moving, running across the rock and dirt in his bare feet, not making a sound. He leapt easily over jagged bits of rock and dropped down small ledges and steps as though they weren't there.

For that time, he felt more pure than he had for some time. His breath came easy, his body obeyed his mind without complaint, and he didn't have to fight anything or consider anyone's motives. There was no treachery or twisted pasts; there were only him and the volcanic rock jutting about all around him.

All the while, that particular blend of aromas that marked Isaac was clear in his mind, leading him along his jagged and odd path. It was clear that Isaac hadn't been completely coherent when he left. It seemed as though he had had no idea where he was going for a while, just wandering aimlessly.

Ben stopped suddenly, realising that the smell was getting far stronger. He glanced around, trying to figure out where he was. He hadn't been paying too much attention as he'd run, but, from the position of the sun, he could tell that he'd been moving for some time. He appeared to be walking along slightly beaten in path along a level plateau. Off to his left, there was a large rock wall going straight up for some distance, and several metres to his right, the earth began sleeping down and away for a good distance.

It was from this dip in the ground that the smell seemed to be coming from. Ben turned, eying it carefully, and walked forward, laying his foot down carefully to avoid being heard. When he reached the incline, he looked carefully down it, and his eyes widened slightly.

Isaac stood in the centre of a large ring of rock formations, jutting up from the earth. All of them were almost level but one. This single spire had been cut cleanly across several feet from the top, leaving a small platform on it. The light clothing Isaac had worn during his healing was stained with sweat and grime. His fur was matted down, and his chest clearly heaving even from this distance. Clamped in his left paw was the Materia Blade, and lying on the ground just outside of the ring of rocks were the Twin Blades Avuir. Both of them were still in their sheaths; the black leather one that Isaac kept attached to his ammo belt, and the battered and road worn one that Lini had strapped constantly to her side.

As Ben watched, the moogle steadied his breathing, and then launched himself forward, charging full tilt at one of the rock spires. He reached it, and then ran two steps up the side. Then, he threw himself sideways by slapping a foot onto the side of the rock. He spun around once in midair, the Materia Blade slashing through the empty space an enemy would probably occupy if one were watching this manoeuvre.

He landed in a crouch, then pulled a complete backflip, doing a half-turn in the process. Ben was impressed: the move was quite simple for a ninja or a Blue mage of his ability, but for a mog knight or a gunner it would be incredibly difficult.

As Isaac landed, he took several more steps forward, jumping as hard as he could and flying towards a spire across from him. Ben's eyes widened as he watched the moogle passing through the air. At that speed, he had nowhere near enough room to get his wings out and dodge. What was that idiot planning?

He realised as Isaac closed with the stone. When he was about a metre away, Isaac twirled, letting his blade lead. The weapon cut the air, and, with a screeching crash, connected with the stone.

The steel sunk in about four inches before suddenly stopping dead against the rock. The force of the sudden stop wrenched the hilt out of Isaac's grasp, throwing him out to the side. He flew by the spire, no longer in control of his flight, and smashed into the ground. The moogle rolled over several times, before finally coming to a rest on his front.

Ben stared down at the collapsed moogle, barely believing what he'd just seen. Had Isaac believed that he could cut through that gigantic lump of rock while he was in the air? Even Maxwell would have had trouble with that. His vision flicked up to take in the ring of rocks again, and his eyes widened even more as he noticed the dozens of tiny chips and slices which scored all of the spires. Ben shook his head, bewildered. Isaac had been doing this repeatedly.

The mage got up slowly, and began making his way down towards the moogle. He stepped lightly, trying to be perfectly silent. There was little cover, so he went down to all fours and kept his body close to the ground. There were a few larger rocks littering the earth, so he took advantage of these.

He froze as the moogle made a small fidgeting motion. He pressed himself to the earth, and counted breaths to keep himself from making much noise. Had Isaac heard him? It couldn't be. Sure, the mog knight's hearing was good, even for a moogle, but he was certain that he'd made no noise.

He waited, his body tense, as Isaac slowly pushed himself up, first to his knees, and then back up to his feet. He walked over the Materia Blade, picked it up, and began walking over towards the circle of rocks again.

Ben watched the moogle return to his spot in the centre of the circle, and then stand prone, breathing heavily.

He stood up suddenly, began striding towards the circle of rocks, and called out, "You know, if you're trying to break yourself, there are easier ways of going about it."

Isaac stumbled slightly in surprise, and turned to stare at the mage. He opened his mouth, as though he were about to say something, and then stopped, shaking his head. He tried again as Ben entered the circle and leaned up against one of the stones.

"What are you doing here, kupo?"

"Looking for you."

Isaac snorted, then rolled his eyes. "Well, you found me, kupo. Was that all you wanted?"

Ben looked the moogle up and down once. He didn't think that he'd ever heard him speaking in such a short and rude manner. Odd. "Don't be stupid, Isaac. You're going to get yourself killed if you keep this up."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Isaac—"

"No, I'm just saying; I'd be doing both of us a favour if I just stayed out and got myself killed, kupo."

"Don't talk like that," Ben snapped at him, and there was a bit of a growl to the words.

"Why?"

"Because you shouldn't use words you don't understand."

Isaac glared at him, and Ben held the look evenly. The two stood there for some time, trying to beat the other in a staredown. Finally, both looked away at the same time, and they each tried to forget that the other was there.

Finally, Ben said, "What are you even doing out here?"

"This is where I first saw Lini," he said simply, holding his arms out wide. "When we were trying to save Eileen from Caesar. We had to find 'the Unnamed Mogknight,' and I just so happened to stumble upon her in the mountains, kupo."

Ben grinned at those words. "I remember. You were gone for an hour, and then you suddenly just appeared out of nowhere dragging this poor, confused-looking moogle behind you. She probably thought you were crazy."

"She definitely thought I was crazy," Isaac corrected. "It probably didn't help matters that she thought I was watching her while she was training."

"Weren't you?"

"Well, yeah, kupo," Isaac said, a small laugh coming out with the words. "It was completely unintentional though. She was actually training by cutting through this rock in midair with her eyes closed."

"Is that why you're trying to…?"

"I guess so, kupo. I wasn't strong enough." He coughed once, and then kept going, his breathing somewhat shallower. "I wasn't strong enough to protect her. If I couldn't protect her, how could I possibly protect anybody else? So, I have become stronger, to make sure that… to make sure that nothing like this ever…"

Ben hesitated for a second, and then said, softly, "You know, that's kind of similar to how I met Jacqueline."

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded. It was the first time he'd really heard the mage mention Jacqueline since their discussion in the woods.

"Yeah," Ben said, shaking his head. "First day of grade five. I was bummed because you and Eileen weren't in my class. She was the new kid. During the first day of gym, she kicked my ass in basketball."

"I remember now, kupo. You didn't stop talking about her for a month after that. Eileen and I were ready to kill you."

"Looking back, I don't blame you," he replied, nodding slowly. "I was a bit obsessed, wasn't I?"

"More than a bit."

Ben chuckled. "Very fair. Either way, I hated her for that while. The worst was when I found that she only lived a couple blocks from my house, and I had to walk home with her every day. Then, one day walking back from school, we saw a bird, and she wondered what it was. I knew it was a cedar waxwing, so I told her." A wry smile came to his face. "She was so impressed. For the next little while, all she would do was ask me to tell her what this plant or this bug was. Eventually, I got fed up, and told her that I would teach her how to identify things. After that, she kind of just started hanging out with us."

The two were quiet for a second, each one completely absorbed in their memories of the great Red mage and beautiful girl that their friend had been.

"Where do we stand, kupo?" Isaac asked suddenly, looking directly at the human. He spoke again, before Ben had a chance to reply. "I mean, I don't know how to explain this to you or how to apologize to you, but I never wanted to have to… for any of this…" He stopped, and shook his head. "It kills me every day. I'm not exaggerating. Every time I wake up or go to bed, I see her face, and each time I had a Third Eye dream about one of you, it made me want to throw up to know I'd never have one about her again. And I've been trying to hold it in for you, kupo, but I don't know, I mean, I…" he stopped, and cleared his throat once. "Not to sound too corny, but I need my best friend right now."

Ben didn't reply for some time. He didn't move for the first few moments, and then he lowered his head into his hands. He rubbed the skin on his temples hard, then muttered, "I'm sorry, Isaac. I can't explain it either. I miss her all the time; and I feel bad, because I know that all of you miss her too. On top of that, I know that Eileen lost Quin at the same time, and I know that Maxwell is always haunted by the people who died under his command in Muscadet. But, the thing is, I can't think about that. It's not that I don't want to; I honestly can't. I try to hold it in, but I always let everything out on you, which isn't fair, because I don't blame you for what happened."

"Kupopo?"

"I know, I know; I never really let it show. But I blame myself. I was the one who was supposed to save her and get her out of there. That's what Jocelyn, Cheney, Pallanza, and Quin gave their lives to let me do; save Jacqueline. And then I get there, and she asks me to do one thing. One thing. Really, it was all I could do, all I had to do. It was my only option. But I wasn't brave enough. I wasn't strong enough to do it. And then she came at me, and she would have killed me, but you…"

He stopped, and Isaac was glad that he did. He didn't want to have to hear the words.

The two didn't speak for a time, each one lost in his own thoughts. Truth be told, they were barely aware of the other's presence, at that moment. The sun moved in the sky, and the day went on.

"You really loved Lini, didn't you?" Ben asked quietly, shocking Isaac from his reverie.

"Yes," Isaac replied, nodding slowly. "More than I knew."

Ben sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, then. I'll be honest with you. It won't stop hurting. Ever. Every moment you spend of every day will be spent knowing that it would have been better with her there. That said," he added, inclining his head somewhat, "that just means that you have to live the way she wanted you to. You are responsible to go on and be everything she expected of you and more, because you have to live life for both of you. So, what would Lini tell you to do if she was here right now?"

Isaac glanced down at the Materia Blade, clutched in his raw-skinned paw. He took a breath, then whispered, "Defend what I care about. Defend what I believe. Defend myself. Live without fear, and know that my feelings make me stronger than anybody I've ever met, kupo."

Ben nodded slowly. Then, he said, "Please understand. I'm trying to do what I can for you. I know that Jacqueline would want me to stay with you, and to still be your friend. I want to do that. I'm just… not sure that I'll be able to do it. Not yet at least. You are my best friend. Sometimes, I feel like you know me better than anybody. But that isn't enough right now. I'll still fight or die for you, but I'm not sure how comfortable I am around you."

"Thank you," Isaac said suddenly, surprising the Blue mage.

The two watched each other for a moment, gauging their stances and positions. Then, Ben cleared his throat, and said, "Alright. Now, come on. I think the last thing Lini would have wanted is you to get yourself killed by being an idiot. We've already got another suicidal and insane mission lined up for us. As it stands, though, you'll be lucky if Eileen doesn't tear you apart."

A wry grin crossed Isaac's tired face, and he nodded. "Right, kupo. Let's get going."


	81. Bervenia Palace

The palace of Bervenia was considered, by and far, to be one of the greatest feats of craftsmanship in several hundred years. The towering behemoth, cut cleanly from the dark blue marble which was commonplace in the far south of Ivalice, dominated the landscape for miles around. On a clear day, when the sun was high, it was sometimes even possible to see a glint of the palace's blue walls on the horizon of Cyril, a good four or five day chocobo ride away.

The centre of Ivalice's monarchic system was situated on a large island in the middle of an inland lake. The waters of this lake, which the palace took its name from, were clear enough that one could clearly see the lakebed from the surface at a depth of ten metres. This lake, well known for its pure and cold taste, had always been revered in the folklore of Ivalice. Some even said that, during the Time of Troubles, the five heroes of the races originally set out from that location.

The island itself was as beautiful as the lake that surrounded it. White sand covered its beaches, leading up to a thin strip of ancient trees. Just within these woods stood the great, five metre thick walls of the palace, going all the way around in a great circle. Just within were several large houses, each made from the same marble as the rest of the palace. These were owned and inhabited by the richer lords and nobles of Ivalice, as well as a few political visitors from other nations across the oceans. All of the streets were cobbled, many of them forming intricate designs and mosaics. At the centre of this small ring was the palace itself, and it was grand beyond imagination. It soared upwards in great towers and arches, connected one to the other by large skywalks and bridges. Great stained glass windows, framed by gilt leafs and silver branches, decorated the exterior and the interior, making colour dance across the streets when the sun hit them just right.

The palace was more or less self-sufficient. There was a large area behind the palace that was set aside for cultivation and farming. In one of the higher tiers, an open-roofed port was set aside for a small fleet of airships.

If one were to go the northwestern point of the island, however, they would find a small ditch, filled with water, leading into a subterranean pipe. This was one of the less glamorous areas on the island of Bervenia Lake, though it was just as essential as the crops growing just outside of the palace, and far more essential than the airship dock. For, deep in the total gloom and heavy dampness of this tunnel was the sewage system of Bervenia palace.

"The next time we're coming up with a plan," Ben's voice hissed through the darkness, "please remember that my nose has the sensitivity of a panther."

"It was the best way for us to get in without being noticed," Maxwell stated, throwing his arms out wide. "Besides, none of you were coming up with anything."

"While we didn't come up with any good ideas ourselves," Eileen conceded, unplugging her nose for a moment to speak, "We also didn't come up with any terrible ideas, which is what you seemed to be specializing in."

"What would you suggest that would have been better than this?"

"Smuggle in on a caravan."

"Bribe the guards."

"Kill the guards?"

"Hell, I'd take on the entire Bervenia military if it meant I didn't have to go through… _this_."

A heavy sigh, edged with a hiss, resounded through the blackness. "Alright, fine. I won't take charge of any more stealth missions. This _is_ quite disgusting, I'll admit."

"Thank Mateus!"

"You don't have to sound so happy."

"Hey, Isaac," Eileen's voice said suddenly, softening somewhat. "Are you still with us?"

There was silence for a moment as they continued plodding on through the tunnel. Then, the moogle's voice, heavy with lack of sleep, said, "Yeah, kupo. I'm right here."

They didn't speak for a while after that. The moogle had done very little speaking since they'd set off from Roda. Occasionally, one of them would ask him something, and they would have to repeat themselves several times because he kept staring away from them. They'd all noticed that he was eating slightly less than usual, and he always volunteered for night watch, and would often stay up much longer than he really should have for his own fair turn.

All that said, though, he was doing all right. When they actually managed to engage him in conversation, he took part. One night, at supper, they'd actually managed to get him laughing as Ben told them about the day he'd met Grans. Still, his disposition was definitely sombre, and it didn't help their mood in such a dark and unpleasant place.

It took about six hours for them to get to where Maxwell wanted to be. They noticed it some distance away: a small bit of like leaking in from above. It grew slightly in size as they approached, until it clearly became a thin ring of light leaking in from beneath the edges of a manhole.

When they reached it, Maxwell lifted Isaac up, and the moogle pushed the large disk of metal up and then out of the way. He hopped up into the air above, followed quickly by Ben. The three males managed to heave their spellcaster companion out, and then Maxwell went up, jumping cleanly up and out. He landed easily, and with an easy kick from his leg, he sealed the terrible smell back down beneath them.

All of them were blinking in the dim light, glancing around as their eyes grew accustomed. Once they could see, they found themselves exactly where they'd hoped; just outside of the large bathhouse that stood on the edge of the open square set aside for commoners visiting on Gift Day.

They looked at each other, and, as one, turned their gaze away again, each trying to squash the image.

"We _never_ do anything like that again."

"Agreed."

"It'll take a week to get this out of my fur," Isaac muttered, provoking a nod of agreement from Eileen and snickers from their two furless companions.

They entered the bathhouse and, after several stares of horror and shakings of heads from the workers there, were ushered away to pools of steaming hot water. Eileen headed off to the room for females, and the other three quickly tossed their soiled clothing to a none-too-pleased laundry attendant before stepping gratefully into the water.

"You know, I don't think that even Marche has given as much for the cause as we have now," Ben muttered, closing his glowing eyes and leaning back.

"I would rather fight Adrammalech than go through that again any day."

"Kupo."

All of them fell quiet, simply trying to let the water wash away the filth as they lay there. Isaac was beginning to nod off when Maxwell spoke.

"You know," the bangaa said, his voice light, "I think this is the first time I've relaxed in three years."

Ben snorted. "It can't have been that bad. I mean, from what I've heard, the palace hasn't discovered you guys. They seem to just let you lie."

"Not quite," Maxwell muttered, rolling his eyes. "It's just that their raiding parties never make it back to tell of their exploits. On top of that, there's a lot of tension in the Red Dragons. Even amongst my more trusted advisors, there are some who still blame the viera for Sprohm."

Ben's eyes cracked open, sending a glitter of blue across the water's surface. "Alright, then, what's been your toughest fight since the Sprohm Incident?"

Maxwell's forehead knitted in concentration as he thought it over. Then, he muttered, "Have either of you heard of Khorin Blackhand?" When neither human nor moogle replied, the bangaa continued. "He was hired by the palace shortly after the Sprohm Incident. He's a big-time jagd clan leader who's been around for quite a while. His mercenaries make up about a quarter of the palace's attack force right now.

"Either way, he was in charge of the force attacking Muscadet. Most people don't realise it, but the palace sent an entire contingent over to bolster the bangaa force marching on the city. On the sixteenth day of the siege, the two of us met for the first time in combat. Just try to imagine it; I was at the head of our forces, and it was absolute chaos. I was more or less swinging my spear everywhere, and doing my best to keep my shield moving to intercept the attacks that made it through to me.

"Then, all of a sudden, he appeared out of nowhere, leading the tip of a wedge in his own army. As soon as we saw each other, we knew who each of us were. We just went at each other. Once we started fighting, a circle opened up around us, and all the rest of the combat stopped.

"I can't tell you how long we were fighting. We must have been going for at least half an hour, each going all out. Then, mainly by fluke than anything, I managed to get my spear's blade against his neck, and his weapon was touching mine. It was bizarre after that. I don't remember how I felt or what I was thinking, but we both just put our weapons away and left. Apparently I passed out once I got back to our camp."

Ben and Isaac were watching the bangaa the entire time he spoke, telling his story as casually as though it was an ordinary, everyday occurrence. As he finished, Isaac showed no reaction, but the Ben nodded.

"Not bad. Not bad at all."

"Why, have you done better?"

"Well," the Blue mage said, shrugging. He raised his arms and placed his hands behind his head, a small grin on his face, "I don't like to brag that often. I _did_ take down about a hundred soldiers one time, with them holding fifty hostages."

Maxwell blinked, and Isaac sat up sharply, both of them staring at the mage.

"Figured that would get your attention," the mage grinned.

"How?" Maxwell demanded, ignoring the comment.

"Well, if I must. There's a magical ability used by the lamias that they use for hunting. It gives the illusion to everybody in an area that it's the end of the day and they've been working hard the entire time. Generally, it convinces them to sleep. I managed to learn it while I was spending some time in the Uladon Bog. So, one fine day, I just strolled into the middle of a camp trafficking away prisoners from Cyril, used the spell, and extended its radius to cover the entire patrol. The spell nearly knocked me out, it was so huge, but I pulled it off. About seven of the guards managed to avoid the affects, but I took them down. Then, I just had to wake up all of the prisoners and get them into the woods."

As Ben finished, Maxwell snorted, shaking his head.

"Doesn't sound _that_ difficult."

"Oh, it wasn't. It became difficult when the remaining members of the group woke up and followed us. They were moving faster than all of the prisoners, so I had to go back and distract the soldiers to buy some time. Fortunately, they were in the woods, so it wasn't that difficult. One of their archers managed to get a good shot on me, but that was about it." Ben lifted his left arm up, then turned towards the other two so they could get a good look. Running over his ribs, there was a long, clean scar, still slightly pink despite its age.

Maxwell, upon seeing it, leaned forward quickly, staring at the line and judging the angle. "Adrammalech, Ben. If that had been an inch or two to the right—"

"Yup," the mage nodded, a grim smile on his face, "right through the heart. I only managed to dodge it by forcing my panther side out. I managed to channel enough magic that my entire body started turning feline. It narrowed my ribs enough to save my life."

"It narrowed your _ribsssss_?" Max demanded, his eyes widening in disgust. "How does that work?"

"It's more or less normal," Ben shrugged. "Whenever I use any kind of shape altering Blue magic, it normally breaks or moulds a few of my bones for a while. That's what the White magic is used for; an anaesthetic for the more painful changes."

Maxwell shook his head again, clearly horrified by the idea. He sat back against the wall, and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Bloody mages." The two were quiet for a short while, waiting. After about a minute of silence, Ben turned his head slightly, looking over to Isaac, who had remained silent during the entire exchange.

"So, how about you?"

"Kupopo?"

Ben sighed, then glanced over helplessly at Maxwell. The bangaa rolled his eyes, then said, "He means, what has _your_ most difficult battle been over the past few years."

The moogle closed his eyes and leaned back again. "Can't say I've really had one, kupo. It hasn't been all that exciting."

"Like hell it hasn't," Ben snorted. "What about that 'Pirate King' comment while we were fighting Llednar?"

Isaac sighed. "There's not much to tell. We fought."

"Isaac," Maxwell stated, very calmly, "tell us, or I swear by the Great Dragons that I will use my breath to boil this water while Ben holds you down."

Isaac opened his mouth to reply, but stopped when he saw the serious expression on Maxwell's face. He turned to look at Ben, and the Blue mage nodded.

"Right…" he muttered, shaking his head. "Fine, kupo. Well, uh, I guess I should explain a lot, then. After Sprohm, I wandered around for about week. I didn't eat; I barely even slept. I don't know what I was doing, kupo, but I ended up in Baguba somehow. I kind of just went to a bar, and I started drinking."

"Sorry to interrupt," Ben said, "but if this is going to turn into a tale of depression and alcoholism then I don't want to hear it."

"It won't, kupo. Don't worry. I won't lie, that was my original plan, but then it got a bit better. You see, I got involved in an assassination attempt.

"As I was having my first drink, a viera walked in. She had a sword, and she was obviously a big deal, because everybody went quiet when she entered. She sat down, and that's when I noticed somebody coming at her with a knife. I blocked the attack with the Materia Blade, and then about a dozen people came at us. She summoned a judge, and we ended up back to back.

"We managed to bring down a few of them, kupo, and then more started coming. She told me to follow her, and then, out of nowhere, she started throwing these orbs of magic all over the place. She blew a path out of the pub for us, and we started running. She led me to the docks, and up to her ship. It was probably the most beautiful ship I've ever seen, kupo. We were still being followed, so I started shooting. We got onto the ship, and her crew started helping us, and we held them off long enough to get the ship out of port. On the spot, Leslie, captain of _the Cracked Mast_, offered me a position as a member of her crew.

"Leslie was the most famous pirate hunter of the time. _The Cracked Mast_ probably had more ships to her name than any airship in history. My first week working with Leslie, we were in three battles with pirates. Within eight months, kupo, she had promoted me all the way to first mate.

"At the end of the first year with her, we got attacked by a fleet of ten ships. That was too much even for us. We surrendered, kupo, and that's when we found out that those ships had been commissioned by the Pirate King.

"By that time, my name had gained a bit of notoriety amongst the skies. The crew was taken captive, but the Pirate King ordered for Leslie and I to be brought to his personal chambers on his ship with our weapons. Apparently, he wanted to fight us, kupo. I still remember, kupo. He said, 'I can't very well be the greatest pirate in the land if I can't even defeat a pair of pirate hunters.'

"That's how we ended up fighting him. Leslie did most of the melee, because she was faster with her rapier. I did my best to cover her with shots from my gunblade. She wasn't good enough, though. The Pirate King cut her down, and so it was my turn to go hilt to hilt with him. He almost killed me so many times, kupo. I can't even explain. I managed to hold out against him for a while, but there was no way I could keep it up for too long.

"Eventually, though, I noticed that in the corner of his chambers, he kept a few barrels of firegel. You know, that stuff they extract from red flans, kupo? I knew that it was my only chance, so I launched a fireshot at it. It exploded, and that alone blew a hole large enough in the side of the ship that it got completely unbalanced.

"_That_ got the Pirate King's attention, believe me. His ship started losing altitude, kupo, and he lost his balance. I managed to fly out of the hole I'd blown, and somehow got back to deck. I was about to go and find the crew, when _the Cracked Mast_ lifted up beside me. Apparently, the crew managed to escape and lift the ship off without my help. I hopped on, kupo, and we took off. Seeing as I was the first mate before, I was naturally picked to replace Leslie as captain. Once we landed, I had to rename the ship as the new captain, and so _the Red Flash_ was born."

The moogle hadn't leaned forward for the entire story; he had simply remained lying against the wall of the bath, keeping his eyes partly lidded. So he remained now, completely relaxed and uninterested.

This was quite a contrast, however, from the other two. Maxwell and Ben stared open mouthed at the moogle as he finished. When he was finished, they both kept their eyes locked on him for a few moments.

" 'Not much to tell'?" Maxwell demanded. "You just told us how you came to be the captain of the greatest pirate hunting vessel of all time in a year, and you don't think there was much to tell."

"It isn't huge, kupo. I mean, I lost the battle. _We_ lost the battle. I only barely managed to escape, kupo," Isaac's eyes were hard now, and his jaw was clenched, "and even doing that nearly killed me. I mean, I couldn't protect Les…"

"Isaac," Ben growled. The moogle glanced up sharply, looking surprised. "Don't go down that path."

Isaac, who was breathing quite hard, nodded very slowly, then glanced down again. He took one, long breath, and then his breathing was back to normal.

"Are you alright?" Maxwell asked, eying Isaac carefully.

"Yeah," he said, nodding. He got up, then said, "I think I'm going to get out now. The water's a bit too warm for me, kupo."

With that, Isaac hopped out of the water, grabbed a towel, and walked off to the room where they had gotten undressed.

Once he was there, the moogle sat down, and began sucking in big gulps of air. Part of it was, admittedly, the thin air in the steaming room, but he knew that there was more to it than that.

Shaking his head violently, he walked over to the hooks lining the walls of the room, to the set that was somewhat closer to the ground. All of their clothing had already been washed and dried magically, and were hanging waiting for them. Isaac grabbed his clothing, and pulled it on quickly, shaking a bit as he pulled the glove on. Finally, he was left staring at the long black leather belt that he wore around his waist. The belt that held his gunblade was already slung around his shoulder and hip. The Materia Blade sat comfortably in the gunblade attachment, just as it had for three years now. He felt good with it there; in his element, and everything was as it should be.

However, the belt that hung before him was another matter altogether. It was a relatively new addition to his normal clothing. Originally, about a month ago, he'd added the Avuir Blue to it. Now, the Avuir Red hung right next to its twin; a painful reminder of the events of the past while.

With a sigh, he grabbed the belt and looped it on, holding the leather up with his elbow as he fumbled with the buckle with his left paw. Once the two weapons were attached, he stepped out into the main lobby, and on beyond into the square.

Fortunately for them, very few people had arrived at the palace in preparation for Gift Day yet. It was still about a week until the actual date, so it was only those who had arrived extremely early that were there. The large square had a few tents set up, and none of the inhabitants from these were out.

In general, the palace only screened people at the gate for entrance. Quite reasonably, they had assumed that nobody would manage to sneak in any other way, like, for example, the sewers. So, now that the four of them were in the palace grounds, they would be more or less free to do as they willed so long as they didn't go over the top.

Meaning, in their minds, they would be fine until they got to talking to Babus.

Isaac walked out over the cobbled ground, water still dripping from his fur. He closed his eyes for a moment, and tried to envision that fateful battle two years ago. He had done it so many times since he'd become captain; almost as much as he went over the battle with Exodus in his head. He knew that he'd done the best he could to save Leslie; the few scars he still had from the battle were proof of that. But it hadn't been enough. He hadn't been strong enough. It was just as simple as that.

"Hey."

Isaac jumped, spinning around in surprise. Eileen, standing before him, held up her hands, as though showing him she was unarmed.

"Oh," Isaac breathed, feeling heat burning in his cheeks. "Hey, kupo."

She laughed and shook her head, setting him back on his heels. To his confused look, she simply said, "You always were so easy to surprise."

"Good to know you enjoy taking advantage of that, kupo," the moogle replied, but a small smile was playing at his lips.

She stepped forward, shaking her hands somewhat as she approached him. She, too, was still somewhat wet from the baths, and wasn't wearing her Alchemist hat. Her hair trailed down behind her back, making a path of white over her robes.

"Are you ready for all this?" she asked as she came up beside him.

"For all what, kupo?"

"Responsibility beyond what you've ever believed," she said, rolling her eyes. "Hatred from people you've never even met, making decisions you should never have to. You know, the usual bull crap."

Isaac shrugged, glancing away from her. His eyes kept wanting to wander back to her, but he forced himself to watch the sky. It was so wrong for him to be thinking about her right now. He should _not_ be wanting to reach over and feel her hair, or watching her eyes, or even just wondering how warm her fur was.

"I…" he stuttered, then swallowed, and continued, "I think it's a bit late for any of us to be asking ourselves that question, kupo."

"It's never too late for self-inspection," the nu mou replied. "If you're not thinking constantly about whether or not what you're doing is correct, then you probably shouldn't even be involved in all this."

"Well, then, kupo, I guess that I'm one of the best people for this job."

Eileen smiled, and Isaac shuddered. "Good. I get the feeling that things are about to go crazy."

A/N: I'm sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry that it took so long for this chapter to come up, and I'm quadruple sorry that I haven't replied to any reviews in a while. I feel like a real jerk, believe me. Things are starting to get a bit more normal right now in my living arrangements, and I'll have access to the net far more often. So, don't worry, everything will be on time again from now on. I've been moving into my dorm room over the past week, and working several hours away from any Internet signal for the entire summer, so it's been hard. Anyways, yeah, sorry about all of that.


	82. Mage Duels

"I declare an engagement."

The two guards, their red robes ruffling as they twirled towards the source of the whisper, gasped at once, stumbling backwards. They managed to remain standing for a few seconds, staring in horror at the twin pair of sabres sticking out of their stomachs. However, they soon slumped forward, held up only by the implements that impaled them.

Ben ripped his weapons out, and then stepped forward quickly. He grabbed the two guards by the front of their robes, and then let their bodies down softly to the floor. Once he had them lying down, he glanced around to make sure nobody had heard. Then, he looked to the left, just down the side hall he had appeared from, and gave a sharp nod.

Isaac, Eileen, and Maxwell all ran down that short expanse of hallway, trying to make it to Ben and his judge in as little time as possible. From the information that Clan Nutsy had supplied them with, they knew that there was only one more corridor before the doors to Babus's personal chambers. There would probably be four more guards in this hallway, each one a member of the Runeseeker's handpicked and hand trained guard unit. In other words, nothing like the pushovers they'd been up against thus far.

After the four had arrived in Bervenia, they had remained in the camp for two days before they headed into the actual palace. At this point, the crowds were beginning to build up the in the square, so they knew that should they need to run, it wouldn't be too difficult to disappear. All they'd had to do to get in was have Isaac fly up to one of the windows in the servants' quarters, sneak through, and unlock a door for them. They had gone in, and since then Ben had been using all of his skills as a tracker and a ninja to get them through unnoticed. Fortunately, they'd managed to avoid any actual combat until this point; with most of the guards, it had been a simple matter to deliver a bash over the head, hide them in a closet, and leave a half-empty bottle of stolen alcohol laying beside them. Others they had snuck by, leaving them none the wiser.

Now, though, it was no longer an option. They were in wide-open hallways of bare marble, with nowhere to hide and nowhere to sneak. Worst of all, the hallways were so empty and large that any noise louder than a normal speaking voice would carry back to the last group of guards they had left.

Translation: they had to take down the four guards without making a sound, and before the guards could call for reinforcements.

"Are you guys ready, kupo?" Isaac whispered. He had his gunblade out, and had already shoved a new clip into its ammo bay. When the other three nodded, Isaac nodded back, took a deep breath, and stepped out around the corner into the main corridor.

He didn't even pause to breathe or aim. He simply raised his weapon and squeezed four times in rapid succession on the trigger.

As soon as he was done doing this, Ben lunged out around the corner after him, tearing down the hallway at an incredible rate. He even went down on all fours to cover the distance, wanting to make it to his targets before they had a chance to shake of the paralysing affects of Isaac's bullets.

Ben came level with the four judges, and suddenly he went from all fours to a tight crouch. His sabres appeared in his hands, and he twirled as he passed between the two closer guards. Red lines appeared across their throats, and an instant later, blood exploded from them.

The Blue mage didn't have time to consider this as he continued spinning, coming around to face one of the two remaining soldiers. He raised both sabres up in front of him in stabbing position, and drove both deep into her chest. As the sabres' guards came to a sudden stop against her skin, he felt warm blood bubbling up over the hilts, coating his hands in red.

Red drops splattered away from Ben as he twirled again, tearing the weapons out of his victim as he faced the final soldier. His eyes widened as they fell upon the man, though, for he was, apparently, already free of Isaac's stopshot. He had his sword raised above his head, and was bringing it down in a chop at Ben's face.

He stopped suddenly, and his jerked. It was odd; his spine arched back, but his body gave a spasm forward. He looked down, and was quite shocked to find a spear's head protruding from his chest.

The metal spike appeared to disappear back into his chest, and then he fell to the floor. As his body hit, there was a slight thump, but that was all.

Ben sucked in gasps of air, and looked up, finding Maxwell crouched before him. He held his spear out behind him in a reverse lunge, and his legs were poised to displace all of their weight to the front. It took the human a moment to understand; Maxwell had jumped all the way down the hallway to land directly behind the last soldier, but had managed to keep enough of his head about him to stab blindly behind him and take out the last opponent.

"Thanks," Ben said, still panting.

"No problem," the bangaa replied, rising slowly to a standing position. He tilted his head to the side, and it gave a slight crack. A slow grin crossed Maxwell's face, and he looked back to watch Eileen and Isaac as they approached. "So, what do we do now that we're here?"

Eileen, who had, until this point, done very little other than give them the occasional direction through the halls, smirked, and then shook her hands out. She was wearing her full garb of an Alchemist; the long maroon robe stitched and bordered with golden thread. On her head, there sat the tilted hat with a golden eye that signified her as worthy of the rank of Thirdy Eye. Around the pupil of this eye there were ten gemstones: one for each of the major schools of magic. It was this ring of stones that identified her as a former Greatspell. All in all, she was wearing her finest, and she was using it to the greatest extent as she stood straight and replied.

"What do we do? We take on the most powerful mage in the land, and see if we can beat some sense into him."

"I thought you said that you were the most powerful mage in the land?" Ben muttered, bending down to wipe some blood off of his sabre.

Eileen gave a slight nod, conceding the point. "Well, the thing about that is that nobody really knows who the greatest mage in the land is. I'm definitely in the running. However, the only way to definitely know if I'm better than anybody is if I can defeat him or her in single combat. And, well, to put it simply, I've never duelled Ezel, Guinness, or Lindsay."

"What about Montblanc, kupo?"

"Oh, he got hit by a charm spell during the war in Cyril, and I had to hold him off."

"Who won, kupo?"

"I don't know," Eileen said with an evil grin, shrugging.

"You're not going to tell us?"

"Nope."

"Jerk."

"Excuse me," Maxwell's voice cut in. The other three glanced over to him, and they saw that he was tapping his foot on the floor impatiently. "We _do_ have a job to get done at some point."

"Right, then," Eileen nodded, approaching the enchanted stained glass and steel doors at the end of the hallway. She eyed them carefully, and then ran a finger carefully up along the material. She squeezed her eyes shut, then shook her head violently. "Shit."

"What?"

"The protection spells on this have been lowered."

"Isn't that a good thing, kupo?"

"No. Those spells can only be lowered by Babus himself. He would probably have them up at all times."

"Meaning?"

"He heard us," the Alchemist said, shaking her head slowly, "and he's inviting us in."

The four looked at each other, and then they all heaved an identical sigh. As one, they nodded, and Eileen pushed the doors open.

Inside was a large room, probably about the size of an average house's floor. It reached up quite high as well, leading to a steeple roof. The floor was the same blue marble as the rest of the building. However, it was somewhat oddly shaped, in that it had a lip all around the edge of the room, which led down to a level about a metre deeper into the ground. This lower area was plain and bare, and set off slight glares from its polished surface.

Standing in the centre of this floor was a quite young nu mou. He looked to be, at oldest, in his early thirties, his fur still bearing the pristine white of youth. His blue robes were cut to flow as little as possible, so as to not impede him in battle. A red mace, with its head bulging forward and then sloping back to a tip, rested comfortably in his hand.

"Ah, you finally made it," Babus said. He didn't move from his position; he just remained staring up at the four of them in the doorway. "Welcome."

Eileen stepped forward, so that she was just on the edge of the lowered portion of the floor. "Master Swain. We have come becau—"

"Wait," the other nu mou said, holding up a hand. Eileen stopped, surprised, and eyed the Runeseeker suspiciously. Babus had his head lowered, and was moving his hand around, always in Eileen's general direction.

"What are you doing?"

"I recognize the feeling your magic," Babus said. He looked up at her, and suddenly, a smile came to his face. "You're Eileen Greatspell, aren't you?"

Eileen sighed, shaking her head. "I _was_ Eileen Greatspell. However, I'm no longer the leader of the Alchemists' Guild."

"Ah," Babus nodded knowingly. "So, now you are just Master Alchemist Eileen, who has decided to break into the palace in order to finish an old duel?"

"Not precisely," Eileen called back. It was clear that she was getting impatient. "I must speak with you."

"If you wished to speak with me, all you had to do was schedule an appointment for the next time I was visiting Cadoan," the palace mage replied. "You were the Greatspell; I couldn't have very well denied you."

"I couldn't have had _this_ conversation with you. It's about the prince."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Eileen and the others saw a dangerous look appearing in Babus's eyes. His face, which before had been, if not calm, at least cautious, was now covered in a glare that made each one of them feel at least a bit intimidated.

"What are you planning with the prince?" the Runeseeker growled. "I shall give you ten seconds to respond, and then all of you go airborne."

Eileen, knowing that this was no idle threat, began speaking as quickly as she could. "We don't mean the prince any harm! None of us have an interest in hurting him. In fact, we need to speak with him. We're here representing Clan Nutsy, and—"

"Your time has just dropped from six to zero," Babus roared upon hearing the name of the clan, and he pointed his hands.

"Move!" Eileen yelled at the other three, and she threw her arms up.

"_Explodiert_!"

As Isaac, Ben, and Maxwell all leapt away from Eileen, an intense pale blue light erupted from Babus. It shot up in a pillar of magical energy, bordered on the edges with gold. A bit of it flowed down in a stream to his hands, and shot forward, homing in on Eileen.

The Alchemist waited until the last moment before the magic would have smashed into her, and then flexed her fingers. A field of pure orange appeared in front of her, blocking the blue and gold light from advancing. As soon as the two lights came into contact with each other, the blue one became a massive ball of flames, releasing a deafening roar and bearing down upon Eileen.

Eileen, however, simply lowered her head, and more orange light filtered out to join that which was already blocking the explosion. Her magic fanned out and around the leading half of the orb of flames, pushing it back slightly.

Both mages leaned forward, throwing their full energy into their task. They both fed more and more of their light into their respective spells, until the room seemed to be filled with orange and light blue flares, occasionally flecked with gold. A line of blood began dripping down from Eileen's nose, running over her lips, but the nu mou barely noticed.

Suddenly, the incredible pyrotechnics show ended, and Eileen staggered forward as the pressure before her gave out. Babus had killed his spell, and was now twirling around, whipping his mace out in front of him.

Ben, who had been carefully approaching the mage from behind, dodged back in surprise, barely getting out of the way of the heavy weapon. As soon as it went by, he leapt forward, swinging both sabres at his opponent's head.

He was surprised a second time, however, as the mace came back and blocked both of the sabres. His eyes widened significantly, and he stared down at the slightly shorter nu mou. This mage knew how to fight!

The two combatants pushed off of each other's weapons and used the momentum to leap back. Ben twirled as he did, letting dark blue light flood down to his right hand. That hand, still clutching his sabre, grabbed a strand of air, and as Ben finished his spin, he released it, sending a whirlwind towards Babus.

The Runeseeker gave a small snort of derision, and took an easy step towards the whirlwind. A small bit of blue light gathered around his mace's head, and he swept it easily through the circulating air. The whirlwind fell apart, dying almost instantly.

As soon as he had finished this action, Babus began taking a step towards the off-balance Blue mage, but stopped and flinched slightly as a slight metal clanking noise rang out. He turned, to find Isaac standing several metres away, charging at him and firing his gunblade with reckless abandon.

The mage either sidestepped or deflected the rest of the bullets, and swung his mace out at the moogle as he came within range.

Isaac, in mid stride, jumped and rolled over his right shoulder, going over the weapon. As he landed, he swiped out with his blade, trying to get a fast hit on the nu mou's side.

Babus stepped away quickly from the attack, then pointed his hand at Isaac. Pale blue light gathered there, and he took a deep breath. Isaac, predicting an attack spell of some sort, held his blade in front of him, hoping it would block the brunt of the attack.

That was when the magic, never intended for any use other than a distraction, disappeared, and Babus stepped forward. He swung his mace, and caught the moogle full in the side. Everybody in the room winced as they heard bones crunching, and, suddenly, Isaac was thrown across the space, flailing like a ragdoll.

Ben rushed in again hot on Isaac's heels. He swung his sabres, and Babus ducked quickly, letting the weapons pass over his head. He stood back up straight, and pointed a hand at Ben. Magical energy appeared in the hand, and the nu mou opened his mouth to speak.

Ben, having seen the feint used on Isaac already, held his sabres out to the side, ready to block the predictable mace.

"_Halbe_," Babus said, and the magic in his hand shot out and struck Ben in the chest.

The mage stumbled back, startled by the spell. Then, he looked down at himself, confused. He glanced up at Babus again, not understanding.

"Give it a second," the Runeseeker said.

Ben was about to step forward again, when suddenly he bellowed in pain and fell back, blood exploding from a dozen wounds all over his body.

"That's what I thought," the mage said with a grin, turning to face his two remaining opponents. Eileen was still catching her breath from their brief exchange of spells, and the bangaa… Where was the bangaa?

He heard a slight whistling noise, and glanced up. His eyes widened as he saw the missing bangaa dropping through the sky, plummeting towards him with his spear extended. He fell straight for the nu mou, releasing a war cry as he approached.

"_Die Stille_," Babus said.

As soon as he said it, the roar coming from Maxwell's throat stopped. It was odd; one instant, his yell was filling the room and reverberating off the walls, and the next it was gone.

The oddest thing was that, along with his battle cry, Maxwell had stopped. His spear was not an inch from Babus's face, and he was still in his lunging position, falling from the sky. However, it was as though wires were suspending him. He simply hung there in midair, his face frozen in a bellow.

Babus turned back to Eileen, who still stood in the doorway. He began walking towards her, eying her carefully. The Alchemist didn't appear to be moving. She was just watching him uneasily, her hands held forward and ready to cast. The only noise was Babus's footsteps and Ben's laboured breathing on the floor behind him.

"Why can't you just leave Prince Mewt alone?" Babus growled, glaring at Eileen. "Do you think he deserves this?"

"I'm doing it for his own good," Eileen replied. Her breath was even, and it was clear she had recovered from countering the spell. "He has to take responsibility for what he's causing."

"He isn't in charge, and he isn't causing the laws to be changed. Those are Queen Remedi's decisions."

"He has sway with her. Besides, he's more central to this than that, and you know it."

"You speak of the supposed 'real world?'" Babus guessed. When Eileen nodded, he shook his head. "The prince has decided that he doesn't want to go back there. It hurts him. I won't cause my prince pain."

"He's just using all of this to escape reality, Babus! He has to accept that his problems will always exist, and that the world isn't perfect. I don't know what his problems were in the real world, but he can't hide from them. He has to take responsibility."

"Take responsibility? He's just a child!"

"So were we!" Eileen roared at him, suddenly losing her composure. Babus took a surprised step back at her sudden outburst. Her face was contorted, and there was a pain in her eyes as he looked at her. It was painfully clear to him that she had been holding back for some time, and that the floodgates had just opened. "He's not the only person in this world! My friends have been dying. I've watched people closer to me than I ever understood disappear, and one way or another this palace has always been involved. Look at the four of us! We can barely even look at each other any more because it hurts so much. Ben, Isaac and I have all lost our lovers. Maxwell has watched more comrades fall than I care to think about. We were just children when we came to this world, and, for a short while, it was as beautiful and wondrous for us as it is for the prince. But it's not anymore, and it's all because of this damned palace's decisions. The four of us have led rebellions and mutinies and armies, and done things we never dreamed that we'd have to just so that we could stay alive. So, even if this does hurt your precious prince, I don't care. Better he should feel some of the pain the rest of us live with constantly once in a while. He stole my friends from me; I have no problem with stealing his fantasy."

She stopped, and sucked in air, breathing hard. Eileen hadn't intended to do that. She'd wanted to keep it in, and just face Babus with the facts. However, as soon as she'd started, she couldn't stop, and now she was left panting while one of the strongest mages in Ivalice watched her.

After a long time, Babus finally spoke. His tone was softer than it had been before, and his words more hesitant. "I'm sorry. I've known that this has been hard on you. On all of you. In truth, since Judgemaster Cid went away, I've been thinking about this all the time. So, tell me, what is it you want?"

"I want you to call off your protection from the prince on Gift Day," Eileen said quickly, wanting to get it out then be able to shut up again. "Marche is planning on coming in and speaking with Mewt. No more, no less. He just wants to talk."

Babus's eyes narrowed, and he seemed to think for a moment. Then, very slowly, he nodded.

"Alright. I'll do it. I agree with you; I feel that Prince Mewt has been running for too long. Perhaps this will help him. Let Marche know that my own guards will not hinder him in any way, and I'll see what I can see about the rest of the troops."

"Thank you," Eileen said, her voice tight. She coughed once, and then said again, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Babus said, putting down his mace. He began removing his over robe, and then stretched his arms out. He picked up the mace again, and looked over to Eileen, who was staring at him without understanding.

"Well?" he demanded, nodding at him. "Shall we?"

"Shall we what?"

"Why, finish our duel, of course," the mage said, rolling his eyes. "Come, I must tell you, I've wanted to have another duel with you since we had our first one three years ago. Don't tell me you haven't considered it?"

Eileen eyed him suspiciously, then said, watching his face the entire time, "No tricks?"

"No tricks."

"And you swear that everything you've said up until now has been the truth? And that you won't arrest me if you manage to defeat me?"

"I swear in the name of Prince Mewt." A grin crossed his face. "Why? Are you afraid that you'll lose?"

"Never," Eileen smiled back, and orange light exploded from her.

--

Isaac awoke to a slight warmth on his cheek. It wasn't uncomfortable; no, quite the opposite. It was, in fact, extremely pleasurable. For a while there, he lay where he was, just enjoying the feeling of the soft warmth on his face.

When he finally opened his eyes, his eyes looked down to look at his face. He found a hand laying there, stroking his cheek softly. He followed this hand up to an arm, which disappeared into the fabric of a robe, which led to Eileen, sitting on the side of his bed.

He stared at her for a moment, utterly confused. "What are you doing, kupo?"

"Nothing," she said, a small smile on her face. "Have I told you lately how happy I am to have you guys back?"

"No, kupo…"

"Right," she nodded, sighing softly and pulling her hand away. Isaac was disappointed by the sudden lack of contact, but didn't say anything. Instead he bit the inside of his cheek, swallowing.

"Uh, Eileen," Isaac asked suddenly, sitting up. He looked around, and saw that they were in the small room that the four of them had rented in Bervenia. Maxwell was slumbering in the bed next to him, and Ben was nowhere to be seen. He took a few moments to get his bearings, and then asked, "What happened, kupo? Are we on?"

"Oh, we're on," Eileen grinned.

"Did you have to fight Babus for it?"

"I fought Babus."

"Did you win, kupo?"

An evil look came to her eyes, and she muttered, "Oh, I dunno. I'll keep that between me and him."

Isaac stared at her for a moment, annoyance radiating from him. "You know, I hate you sometimes."

"I know."


	83. Storming the Palace Part 1 of 3

There was a sharp rap on the door. All four of them started and looked up when they heard it, each one checking to make sure the others had weapons close at hand. A moment later, Maxwell stood up, holding the Materia Blade in his hand, and cautiously approached the door. He was painfully aware of how loud his feet sounded on the floor amidst the silence, only adding the to the tension in the air.

Finally, the bangaa reached the door, and he took a deep breath. Then, his voice tight, he asked, "Who's there?"

"The men who live upstairs," came the response. The tall bangaa visibly relaxed upon hearing those words, and, more specifically, upon hearing the voice which spoke them. His hand began fumbling with the locks, carefully disengaging them and each of the traps that Isaac and Ben had added to them over the past few days. When he was finally done, he turned the doorknob slowly. He opened the door a crack, and peered out into the hallway outside. After a moment, he opened the door all the way, and stood aside.

A line of cloaked figures paraded into the room, moving quickly. There looked, at first glance, to be about ten of them. As soon as the last had entered, Maxwell closed the door and began resetting all of the traps and locks.

While the dragoon was doing this, the cloaked figures were removing their long robes, setting them down on the table and the beds. Isaac, Ben, and Eileen all stood up to help them and make a bit more room for the group to sit down.

"Thanks," Marche said, shaking his blonde hair out as Isaac offered him a chair. He heaved a sigh as he sat down, rubbing the side of his nose. "It's been a long couple of weeks."

"_You_ think it's been a long couple of weeks?" Ben demanded, taking Guinness's cloak and holding a hand out for another member of the group who had yet to remove her cloak. "After walking through Mateus knows what and taking on one of the strongest spellcasters alive, we had to sit here for almost a week doing nothing but waiting for you and panicking every time a patrol walked by. I—ah!"

He stopped as he looked at the owner of the cloak he had just taken. Arranging her robes and stretching her neck, Grans glanced up at him with a disparaging look. "Do not complain, Benjamin. Young Marche has had a difficult time, and you will never improve anything by complaining. Now, perhaps one of you could get Grans and the rest of the clan something to drink so that we can finally relax."

Ben, now officially cowed, went to the small cupboard on the wall that they were using as a pantry and began rummaging about in it for something to drink. The rest of the clan took seats around the room, somehow managing to cram in but still keep everybody comfortable.

The room, small previously with just the four friends staying there, was veritably packed to the ceiling with these new additions. Along with Marche, Guinness and Grans, Caitlin, Lindsay, Montblanc, and a young male moogle and a viera assassin they didn't know were gathered there. Each one looked worn out in one way or another; Marche especially. There were heavy bags beneath his bloodshot eyes, and his hair was greasier and messier than normal. Even as the others started talking, there was a faraway look in his eyes.

"So how did you guys actually get here, kupo?" Isaac asked, glancing around at the group.

"A few friends of ours own an airship, kupo," Montblanc explained. "We passed them off as a palace ship, landed, and we just got off. They're actually our escape route for tomorrow, kupo. Once we're done talking to Mewt, we'll just head over to the airship dock and fly off. How did it go with Babus?"

"We should be good," Eileen answered for them. "He seems to be sympathetic with us. There's always the chance that he's just biding his time so he can stab us in the back tomorrow, but we don't really have a choice, now."

"Good," Montblanc nodded, and then there was silence for a while. It was clear that everybody in the group was tired. Ben returned from the pantry with a small bottle of liquor, and they began passing it around, everybody taking a swig. The younger moogle with the group reached into a small satchel he carried with him and pulled out a long piece of some type of stone. He grabbed a small rag from the bag, and began polishing it off. Isaac, curious of what he was doing, sidled over to watch. His eyes widened as he saw the small yet intricate carving that he was working on.

"Is that what you're using to get into Gift Day, kupo?"

The young moogle looked up, startled by the voice, and his eyes widened. "Oh, yes, kupo. I've been working on it for the past few days."

"That's incredible," Isaac muttered, shaking his head as he stared. "This is a few days' work?"

"Well," the moogle shrugged, looking sheepish, "I _may _have drawn up the designs before, but all of the physical work has been over the past couple of days."

"You guys haven't met my younger brother yet, have you, kupo?" Montblanc asked, realising it with surprise. "Sorry about that. Everybody, this is Nono: mechanical genius."

"Montblanc!"

"What? It's true," the elder brother said, pride clear on his face. "He built his own airship, kupo."

Isaac whistled, and the other three nodded in appreciation. Having built an airship at such a young age was, to say the least, quite an accomplishment.

"The fact that I can _build_ airships doesn't necessarily make me a good pilot, kupo," Nono said, shaking his head.

"No, but it does mean that you can make amazing gifts for princes, kupo," Montblanc grinned. The moogle then turned, pointing to the assassin who was with them. "Oh, and this is Vili."

Maxwell and Ben both looked up at that, looking surprised. Ben spoke first.

"Vili? As in 'Vili of the Brown Rabbits' Vili?"

However, the viera was already shaking her head before he finished his sentence. "That's my sister you're thinking of. Besides, she's more of a sniper. Most people know me as Littlevili."

"I don't think I understand," Maxwell said, and his confusion was clear on his face. "How does the younger sibling of the leader of one of the most powerful and famous clans in Ivalice come to be working for Nutsy?"

Vili gave a slight shrug, and a somewhat annoyed smile came to her face. "There's only enough room in the Brown Rabbits for one Vili."

"Ah."

"So the four of you are _the_ Four, then?" she asked, eying each of the four friends up quickly. Even as she said it, Nono perked up and began looking at them, clearly revealing that he'd been wondering the same thing.

Isaac, Ben, Maxwell and Eileen were all silent for a few moments after she asked, and were aware of the fact that all of the eyes in the room were on them. None of them were totally sure how they should answer that.

"We're…" Ben started, then glanced at each of the other three quickly. They all gave him a nod, understanding what he was going to save. "We're not the Four. We're four of the Five."

The senior members of clan Nutsy all nodded, instantly understanding what Ben had meant by the words. Vili, however, simply gave them an odd look, and said, "I'd heard that some of you knew Ultima?"

"Yes," Eileen answered. She reached down to the mace she had attached to her hip, and pulled it out so that the viera could see it. "I've been using it for about two years, and Max has known how to use it for three. Why?"

"Marche said that if I got strong enough, I could learn Ultima," the viera said simply, shrugging and glancing over to her leader.

"That's not necessarily true," Max said hurriedly. "It's not just a matter of being strong enough and working hard enough. Only five people in every generation learn it."

"I know, and I'm one of those five." Vili shrugged. Then, her voice became slightly softer, and her eyes lowered even as they turned slightly towards Isaac. "Lini said that I had the potential."

Nobody missed the momentary twitch in Isaac's face, or the equally short grunt from Marche. Fortunately, Eileen started speaking, taking the attention off of both of them.

"Really? Well, then, if she said so, I wouldn't doubt it. How long have you been learning the abilities of an assassin?"

"About two years; more or less since I joined Nutsy. It seems to be going well. I do more reconnaissance than fighting, but I get enough experience."

"Well, you'll be getting experience tomorrow for sure," Montblanc said, standing up. Everybody turned to look at him as he raised his voice slightly. "I'm thinking that we should get down to solidifying our plans for tomorrow, kupo, and then we should get some sleep. It's going to be a long day, and we have to be ready."

"Right," Maxwell said. He was seated at the only table in the room. It was more or less covered in cloaks, but he quickly picked them up and placed them neatly on one of the beds. Beneath the pile, lain out atop the table, was a large, hand drawn copy of the palace's blueprints. The bangaa picked up a charcoal pencil that was lying next to it, and pointed to several points on the plans. "These are what we came up with, in case we ran into trouble along the way. You may want to look at them and alter them as you see fit."

For the first time since he came in, Marche raised his head from the table and looked down at the plans. The others crowded around, trying to get a good look, and a good deal of conversation began breaking out.

"If Babus were to betray us, or if they were to recognize us, and they were to ambush us," Marche said, and everybody fell quiet at his voice, "they would want to do it after splitting us up. A maximum of four people per party are allowed to enter past the waiting hall. They would send a large force in to arrest the members who remained outside, and then send a smaller and more concise and powerful group to take down the four who went ahead in a small room which would be difficult to escape."

"…meaning we should delegate according to—?"

"I want Montblanc and Caitlin with me in the group of four," Marche interrupted Maxwell, seemingly completely unaware of the bangaa's voice. "If possible, Ben, do you think you could come with me? Your senses would be useful."

"Sure," Ben said, but there was hesitance in his voice. Everybody was unnerved by this odd side of Marche. It seemed as though he was possessed, and he was making the plans on instinct more than on any rational thought.

"Good. And Isaac, how good is your control of your third eye?"

The moogle stuttered, looking confused for a moment. He hadn't known that Marche knew about the third eye. Had Lini told him? Or maybe Montblanc… he stopped considering it as he noticed that everybody was looking at him.

"Uh, it's pretty good, kupo. I could force myself into a vision if I had to."

"Good," Marche nodded. "In that case, if you guys get attacked, take them down. Then, Isaac, I need you to lock onto Ben, find out where we are, and lead everybody else to where they've got us. If you can't get Ben, then try and connect with Caitlin."

"Caitlin, kupo?" Isaac asked, glancing over at the equally confused soldier.

"Third eye powers are supposed to home in on others with third eyes, right?" Marche asked. When Isaac nodded, he simply said, "Well, Caitlin holds a third eye of combat. If we're fighting, then you should be able to find her. After that, we'll just force our way to the throne room." He looked around at everybody, then asked, his voice sharp and far more commanding than usual, "Does everybody have that?" As everybody nodded, the paladin lowered his head back down onto the table. "Good. In that case, everybody, sleep. Tomorrow will be hard."

--

"They're coming."

Everybody looked up at that, surprised by Maxwell's voice. The bangaa was leaning back against the wall of the waiting hall, his eyes half-lidded. However, it was clear that he was anything but relaxed.

Everything thus far was going according to plan; their group had set off to get in line before dawn, leaving Nono behind with orders to get out of the palace as soon as possible. The appraisers who judged the worth of each gift were greatly impressed by the sculpture that they brought; a beautiful lump of materite worked into the shape of a bust of the prince. The work was incredible, and the resemblance uncanny to the prince. Thus, they had been allowed to jump to the front of the line. As they were being escorted to the waiting hall, however, more than a few had noticed when one guard, walking by, had stopped, turned around, and stared at them for several moments. The guard had walked off very quickly shortly afterward, and all of them knew they'd been discovered.

However, nothing obvious had happened. They'd been led into the entrance hall, and there they had waited until their turn. When a small group of guards approached and asked who would be coming to visit the prince, Marche, Montblanc, Caitlin and Ben had all departed, acting as though everything was normal. It had been about ten minutes from that time, so things seemed to be running just on schedule.

"Are you all ready?" Guinness asked. In the absence of Marche and Montblanc, he had taken up the mantle of leadership for Clan Nutsy. The mage carried a long rod, its tip carved to look like a flame, and he was glancing around at all of the small groups of guards which were clearly making their way towards the clan.

"I've got the judge," Eileen said, holding up a judgepoint.

"Good. Vili, you should get going."

The viera nodded, and closed her eyes. For a moment, there was a look of intense concentration on her face. Then, she disappeared from view.

Guinness glanced over at Isaac, and nodded. "As soon as it looks like we've got it under control, find Ben."

"I'll do what I can, kupo."

"Right…" Guinness took a long, deep breath. The guards couldn't be more than ten metres away from them on all sides now, acting as though they were just conversing with each other and observing the other groups waiting in line. Hopefully they would all have the sense to scatter and get away once the fighting started.

"Begin when the judge appears," the White mage said. "Eileen?"

"I declare an engagement."

Everybody moved at once. All those who were standing around the clan members were completely surprised by their sudden change from apparent calm to motion, and several actually fell away from them in shock.

Maxwell planted the butt of his spear on the ground, and, using incredible back and forearm strength, lifted himself straight up with it, and placed his feet against the wall. He kicked off with them, and he flew forward, smashing directly into the closest group of guards. He somehow managed to end up on his feet, and swept his spear around him like a pole, knocking down the few soldiers who were still standing. One guard actually managed to raise his shield and block the swinging spear, and, more on surprised instinct than any skill, lunged forward at Maxwell with his sword. Oddly, Maxwell didn't even try to block; the sword touched against the fabric covering his chest, and sliced through to the skin beneath.

The guard cried out in triumph, pushing harder with his weapon. However, as he pulled it back from the cut, he glanced at the blade oddly.

Why wasn't there any blood?

He got his answer a moment later when he buckled forward, his eyes going wide, and his hand going to the spear embedded in his stomach. He looked up, and saw that Maxwell was right in front of him, his eyes boring into him as the bangaa leaned into the attack.

"A dragon's scales require far more than that to pierce," Maxwell whispered, enjoying the sudden look of terror in the poor human's face. Then, the dragoon ripped his spear back out, letting the guard collapse to the floor, and spun to face his next opponent.

Isaac's eyes flicked over to the strong bangaa, and instantly knew that he wouldn't require any help with his targets. After the display he'd just seen, Isaac doubted that any of the guards even had the strength of arm to break his skin. Instead, the moogle watched some of the other groups approaching, sizing them up.

A moment later, though, he had to cover his eyes as flames exploded from the ground at their feet, sending several of their bodies flying across the hall. The moogle blinked to get the spots out of his eyes, and glanced behind him. Just as he'd expected, Eileen stood there, a slight orange blaze rising off of her, and her hands held out as she prepared another spell.

Next, Isaac sized up a small group of guards who were holding back. Each one of them carried either a bow or a gun, and most if not all had already loaded their weapons, preparing to fire. The moogle began raising his gunblade to fire, but stopped suddenly, his eyes going wide.

One of the rear members of the group had suddenly jerked his head back, exposing his neck. A moment later, a line of red appeared along his jugular, and blood exploded from him. Even as his body fell and the other archers turned to stare in surprise, Vili, her katana drawn, appeared amongst them, twirling and slashing at her nearest opponent. She opened a long gash along his chest, and he fell back.

The assassin didn't give her opponents any time to recover; instead, she just lunged forward again, cutting at another archer. This one, a viera, had the presence of mind to draw out a rapier and hurriedly block the assassin's next, attack. However, even as she held the katana at bay, Vili brought her other empty hand forward, passing through her opponent's open defences. Just as the hand was about to touch skin, it seemed that a small mist of darkness gathered in it, solidifying into the form of a small, curved knife. As soon as Vili touched the weapon against the skin of the guard, the archer simply dropped, her rapier clattering to the ground.

Apparently, ranged attacks also wouldn't be a major concern for them, with Vili out there handling them. Instead, Isaac turned his attention to a small knot of enemies who had somehow managed to get past Maxwell's spear and Eileen's spells. The moogle's grip tightened on his gunblade's hilt, and he took a tentative step forward, ready to edge of the Materia Blade in combat. He stopped, though, when he felt something touch his left shoulder softly. He glanced back, seeing who it was.

Lindsay, a dazed look in her eyes, pointed her left hand at the approaching group of guards, and whispered something beneath her breath. A globe of red light appeared there, and flew forward, smashing into the leader of the group. Flames roared out from the globe, instantly forming into thin chords and wrapping around the soldier's arms. The ropes of fire tightened suddenly, pulling the soldier's arms in close against his chest even as he cried out in pain.

Isaac had barely recovered from watching this when she pointed at another guard. Lindsay whispered another few words, and a greyish orb launched out this time, smashing into another enemy. She kept pointing and firing, small globes of magic smashing into each of the guards and hindering them in some way. Eventually, Isaac understood, and simply stepped back out of her way. The viera gave a light nod, and continued on as she had, blasting away the guards one after another.

Again, Isaac observed the battlefield, trying to find some sort of niche he could fit into. The others members of the group seemed to be just tearing the guards apart, without any need of his assistance. Finally, Isaac's eyes wandered to the far side of the hall. It seemed, as they had all hoped, the others who had been waiting in the wide audience chamber had long since scattered and fled through the nearest exits. Wisely, none of them had wanted to get involved in a battle between the palace and a rogue clan. At current, Nutsy was gathered at one edge of the hall, right next to the large iron double-doors which led into the depths of the palace.

Isaac's eyes were drawn to the far end of the hall by a sudden movement, and he cursed under his breath. "Reinforcements are coming, kupo!"

"I'll handle it," Guinness said, stepping up beside the moogle. He raised his rod, closed his eyes, and took a long breath. Then, his eyes snapped open, he pointed the staff, and he roared, "_Feueraga_!"

Flames exploded from the mage, leaping out and arcing away over the heads of the combatants with a shockwave of sound. Isaac was forced to take a step back at the intense heat radiating from the mass of fire, and his eyes widened even as he raised a paw to protect them from the glare. The moogle had learned that Guinness had taken up the study of Black magic to balance out his abilities in combat; however, he had never dreamed that the result would be this incredible. The fire just continued to pour and pour out of his hands to run along the rod's shaft and blast out towards the far end of the hall.

Finally, the flames ended, and the waves rippling through Isaac's fur died down. He lowered his paw, and he simply shook his head as he stared. Guinness, through some incredible control of his magic, had managed to direct it to create a large wall of flames between their group and the rest of the doors. Essentially, until the guards managed to get some high-powered mages with incredible ice spells in there, they wouldn't be able to break through.

Next to Isaac, Guinness slumped forward, breathing heavily and placing a hand on his leg to steady himself. The aged nu mou shook his head, and a few beads of sweat dropped off. He glanced over to Isaac, and gave a weak smile, nodding slightly.

That was when one of the soldiers managed to dodge around a spell from Lindsay. He had seen the orb coming, and ducked down and around to the left to let it fly by. In the short expanse of time he had between spells, he rushed at the elderly nu mou, raising his sword for a chop. Isaac, seeing this, stepped forward, about to parry the blow over Guinness's figure.

There were suddenly two sharp cracks filling the air, each one ringing out at the same time, but both clearly unique and distinct. The first was accompanied by an odd whooshing noise, and lasted but an instant. The other was deeper, slightly longer, and it almost made Isaac's breakfast come to his mouth when he realised what it was.

The soldier dropped his sword, roaring in pain and staggering back as he stared at his shattered wrist. The hand was hanging down at an odd angle, and there was a bright red line drawn across the skin which was beginning to leak blood. He glanced over to the side, his eyes wide, and stuttered in horror.

There stood Grans, an outraged scowl on her face, and her bullwhip in her hand. It was clear that she had just cracked it, and she already had it held back and ready to strike again.

"You would attack a defenceless mage from behind while he is tired?" she demanded, shaking her head at the startled human. "You have no manners at all, do you not?"

The human, having no other real response, simply continued staring at her for a moment, before his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out, the shock of the injury robbing him of his consciousness.

Grans shook her head again as she looked down at the soldier. Then, she glanced over to Isaac, and said, "Well, sweetie, I think that it would be best for you to try and contact your friend now. I will make sure nothing happens to our defenceless mages. Go on, now."

Isaac, sighing, figured she was right. The rest of the group had this battle handled; to be fair, it was already overkill without him helping out. So, instead, Isaac backed away from combat, made sure nobody would be approaching him anytime soon, and leaned up against the wall, closing his eyes.

So… Ben… It was difficult to think of Ben, these days. He didn't know where he stood with him, really, even after their conversation at Roda. Did Ben hate him? Was he just trying to block up his anger because he felt that Isaac needed it at the time? But how could anybody who hated somebody choose to do something like that? None of it really made sense to Isaac. Well, maybe that's what Ben represented to him at the moment: confusion. It was clear that he was holding something back all the time. Everybody was holding stuff back all the time, including Isaac himself. They were all keeping secrets, whether for personal or political reasons. Maybe that made sense. Ben really did have a lot of responsibility, and it must be hard for him all of the time; trying to control his animal side all of the time, but knowing that it was that bestial nature that made him strong. In some ways, Ben was the strongest of all of them. He cared for them, it was clear. Despite all of the discomfort that Isaac felt around him, the moogle knew one thing. Ben was a person it was safe to be with, just because of that sheer amount of self-control that—

Isaac's body slumped down against the wall.

_Dodge back, bite, duck, hamstring, throat. He shook his head as he came back up, trying to get the taste of blood out of his mouth. It was so difficult to focus! There were just so many people, and in such a tiny space! His other side was panicking; it wanted out, and it didn't care what got in its way. The small bit of self-awareness he maintained just begged that the others weren't getting caught in his thrashings; otherwise they would probably go down too. He sensed another attack coming at him, and he twirled, ducking beneath the swing. He jumped forward, tackling his enemy to the ground and landing on top of him. His sight began going red, and he drew back his claw, whipping it forward to touch—_

Isaac sat up sharply, gasping and coughing. There was sweat on his brow, but he was shivering. He glanced around, his eyes wide, just to make sure of where he was. There were creatures around him, and it was clear that they were fighting. Some of them looked familiar… but they were all different from him. None of them seemed to have noticed him, so maybe he'd be able to get away before…

Isaac shook his head again, forcing himself to take control of his mind. He screwed his eyes up shut again, and took several deep breaths. When he opened his eyes again, he saw everything as it was supposed to be. The members of Clan Nutsy were still holding off the soldiers. Another soldier had joined his broken wristed companion on the ground, holding onto his shin and mewling in pain.

As Isaac looked around, he saw that Eileen was watching him with concern in her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, kupo," Isaac nodded, getting his breathing back under control. "I was in Ben's mind, and… well." He shook his head, holding his arms out helplessly. "I've never felt anything like that before, kupo."

The alchemist crouched down beside him, and, before he could react, placed a hand against his forehead. He pulled away quickly, but her expression had already become darker.

"You're burning up."

"It happens whenever I force the Third Eye, kupo," he explained, shrugging. "It's not a big deal."

She fixed him with a stare, and Isaac could feel himself withering under it. Eileen, it seemed, could be quite intimidating at times.

"Can you pull of another viewing without hurting yourself?"

"I should be able to…"

"Should be able to or will be able to?" she asked, and her stare got harder.

Isaac swallowed, and barely managed to gasp out, "Will, kupo."

She continued staring for a moment, then whispered, "If you hurt yourself or do anything stupid, I'll kill you."

"Got it, kupo."

She nodded, and then stood up, already picking out another target for her next spell.

Isaac stared at her as she turned away his eyes wide. He didn't remember her being like that before he'd left for three years. It seemed almost as if… as if what? As if she was taking responsibility for him, and for any harm that came to him.

But… that was stupid, wasn't it? She wasn't responsible for him being stupid and getting himself hurt. She definitely couldn't be held accountable for the plan, which was Marche's from the get go. She hadn't been responsible for that part of the plan, and it wasn't her fault that the Third Eye was causing him pain. How could she do that to herself? How could she—

A voice, sounding remarkably like Lini's, spoke to Isaac from the back of his mind. Wasn't that what he did all the time? Blame himself for other people's problems and pains?

The moogle stared at Eileen for a moment, his mouth working but not forming words. There was a stinging in his eyes, and, to his shock, when he felt them, there was moisture there.

"Crap," he muttered, shaking his head again. This wasn't the place for this. He had to save this for another time; preferably a time when he wasn't in the middle of a massive operation that required him to pull off. Also, preferably when nobody else was around.

So, instead, Isaac closed his eyes and dove back into himself, trying to awaken his power again. He remembered vaguely that when he'd been inside of Ben's head, there had been another presence there, nagging and bugging at him all the while that he had been riding along. It was like something sparkling in the corner of his vision when he was lining up a shot with a gun. It kept trying to distract him and draw his attention to it.

Isaac, this time, tried to seek this out and focus on it.

The moogle's body slumped again. If anybody had had the time to look at him, they would have seen his grip on the hilt of his gunblade tightening, and his eyes flicking back and forth violently under his eyelids. For a moment, his lips pulled back as his teeth gritted, and he gave a small shudder. Then, his eyes snapped open again, and he shook himself to get his mind back in control.

"Guinness."

"Yes?" the nu mou said, turning around to glance at Isaac. "Did you manage it?"

"Yes, kupo. I got into Caitlin's mind."

"Excellent. Which chamber are they being held in?"

Isaac opened his mouth to reply, then stopped, looking confused. He tried again, but ended up shaking his head in frustration. "I can't explain it. I _know_ where they are; I know exactly where we have to go and how to move to get there, kupo. I just don't know what the room is. Caitlin's mind acts strangely; it deals more in physical details and processes than anything else."

"That'll have to do," Guinness replied. He glanced around at the few remaining guards, and nodded slowly. "Alright. I guess that this is how it begins. Once Vili is done over there, we'll get going."

Isaac nodded, shuddering slightly as he did so. He ran his paw along the hilt of his gunblade, feeling the grip and the fingerprints worn into it. He closed his eyes, and breathed. Was this how Lini had felt at the beginning of every battle?

"Isaac?" Guinness asked.

The moogle opened his eyes, and to his surprise everybody was watching him. A quick survey showed him that the last guards had been dispatched, and they were all waiting on him.

Isaac breathed out through his nose, then, without any further hesitation, began walking towards the double doors, pushing them open even as he began speaking.

"I'll lead the way. I should tell you that the room the four of them were in was about twenty feet by twenty feet by thirty feet, and there were eighteen opponents left when I was there. Try not to interrupt me, kupo; the path is still clear in my mind, but it's beginning to fade. Let's go."


	84. Storming the Palace Part 2 of 3

The group rushed through the open door, all of them casting constant glances about them to watch for any wandering groups of soldiers. By now, most of the palace would be aware of the attack; there was no way of avoiding combat.

"So I guess this means that you were wrong about Babus," Guinness muttered as he strode along, just behind Isaac, who lead them, and just ahead of Eileen, with whom he was speaking.

"It does seem that way," Eileen replied, a bit of an edge in her voice. "He seemed so sincere…"

" 'Seems' and 'is' are often two very different things," Maxwell replied from the rear. The bangaa had removed his torn cloak, and now wore simply his breeches and a sleeveless tunic. He had switched his spear for the Materia Blade, and it cast reflections of light upon the walls as they hurried along.

"I know that. Still, I thought that he really wanted to help the prince. He…" she stopped, shaking her head. "He's somebody who can't be taken lightly, apparently."

"We're getting close, kupo," Isaac announced, not even looking back. He was moving fast; some of the others were even breathing slightly heavier than usual trying to keep up with him. The entire time, his head was down, and it seemed as though he wasn't even aware of where he was; he was just placing one foot in front of the other.

The group bunched in closer upon hearing those words, and all of them began checking their equipment. True, the previous battle hadn't been too difficult. For the most part, they'd all been toying with their opponents, using them as warm up. That said, all of them had used up a good amount of energy on it. Most of them were sweating at least a bit, and a few, the spellcasters especially, were panting in exertion.

Isaac stopped suddenly at a junction in the hallway, where there was a branch leading off to the right. All of them could suddenly hear the muffled sounds of combat from around this corner, and Isaac stiffened.

"Right there," he muttered, just loud enough for the others to hear. "There's a doorway on the right about halfway down the hallway, kupo, and it leads to the room where they're being held. There's a large group of guards outside, kupo; they go in whenever there's enough room. It's essentially a massive pile-in."

"Alright," Guinness nodded, turning to the other members of the group. "In that case, we'll just storm in and one of us will have to hold back the guards long enough for us to get into the room. Then, that person will have to get back in and close the door, and we'll have to barricade it." The nu mou looked around at everybody gauging their reactions to make sure they approved of the plan. When no complaints were made, he nodded, then, very awkwardly, asked, "So… um… any volunteers?"

"I'll do it, kupo," Isaac said at once.

The mage glanced over at the moogle, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure?"

"Completely."

Guinness shrugged. "Well, in that case, is everybody ready?" When everybody showed that they were, he nodded to Isaac.

The moogle nodded back, and took a deep breath. Then, he stepped around the corner, the others following close behind.

As soon as they were around, Isaac began pumping his trigger, sending a volley of bullets towards the large mass of guards they saw about twenty metres down the hall. For a moment, it looked as though they had had no effect; then, about ten of the guards closest to the clan suddenly stopped pushing to get in the door, turned about, and began attacking their companions. The other guards, caught completely by surprise, fell back under the assault, trying in vain to erect a defensive line.

Isaac rushed forward, Guinness and the rest of the group hot on his heels. As he ran, Isaac flicked a small switch on the attachment he'd built onto the Materia Blade's hilt. As soon as he did, a small, rectangular black box dropped off of the attached gun. It clattered to the ground, and the moogle paid it no further heed. Instead, he busied himself by tossing his weapon up in the air and slightly forward, aiming directly for where the group would be heading.

While the weapon went airborne, Isaac reached his paw into the side-slung pouch he carried with him, fumbling around for a moment. When he withdrew the paw, there was another of the small black boxes. He then reached forward and, while the gunblade was still circling through the air, shoved the new clip of ammo into it and grabbed the hilt.

As soon as it was done, he glanced back over his shoulder at Guinness, who was just behind, and said, "Yell for me once you're all through and there's enough space for me, kupo."

With that, he turned his attention forward again, and, still about ten metres from the fray that his empowered bullets had caused, he jumped, his wings flaring out and catching wind. They gave several strong flaps, and then he simply glided, soaring towards the battle.

He waited until he had just passed over the heads of the group of guards he had charmed. Then, he folded his wings and dropped, his blade already swinging before he hit the ground.

As the weapon flashed out, a spurt of blood exploded from one of the closer guards' necks. The moogle spun as he hit the ground, ducking his head to avoid a slash coming at him. As he came back around, he lunged out with the gunblade at the off-balance guard who had struck at him. The gunblade slashed into the guard's side, sending him falling away with a cry of pain.

Isaac glanced up, blocking a slash at his head and taking stock of his situation. He knew that he couldn't rely on the support of his charmed companions for long; as soon as they took a hit, the pain would probably return them to their senses. It would be very difficult to load another clip of ammo in the middle of the battle, meaning that he only had ten more shots to use.

The moogle cursed under his breath, and then sidestepped an overhead chop from a bangaa. As the lizard's broadsword smashed into the ground, Isaac jumped back over it, dragging his weapon across the bangaa's throat as he went. He landed, and turned to face his next group of opponents.

It appeared that the guards had finally managed to get themselves organised. Instead of just coming at him one at a time, they now had a group of three soldiers coming towards him; one human, a viera, and a bangaa. They advanced cautiously, holding their weapons out in case he should try to charge them.

The moogle, figuring that he shouldn't disappoint the trio, ran straight at them, seemingly oblivious of the swords pointed at him. They looked surprised for a moment, but then their faces regained their composure, and they readied themselves to swing at him.

Once Isaac was within a couple feet of them, he dropped suddenly, throwing his feet out forward underneath him and sliding across the marble floor. He passed beneath the surprised guards' swords, and then swept his foot forward and around at the viera's legs.

She jumped up, avoiding the trip. Even as she was coming down, her human companion was lunging forward in a stab at the moogle.

Isaac, still on the floor, rolled away from the attack, raising his blade as he came around onto his back. The predicted attack from the bangaa crashed down onto the blade, but Isaac held it steady, his paw not even shaking with the strain.

Seizing his chance, the moogle closed his eyes for a moment, and called up all of the insane energy running through his veins. He fed it down into the blade, and a grin crossed his face as the weapon flashed for a second with electricity. The energy arced up from his weapon to coat the bangaa's sword, and proceeded to run down into his hands.

The bangaa cried out in pained surprise, and he dropped his weapon and fell back in surprise. Seeing that there were more guards waiting behind to take his place, Isaac quickly sat up and lunged his torso forward, concentrating on the gunblade again. He reached out and made a small knick on the bangaa's leg, and then fell back, rolling backwards to get out of the way of an attack from the viera.

As Isaac twirled and parried against the human and the viera, the bangaa staggered back, an odd look on his face. Then, his confusion cleared, he turned around, and he threw himself upon the closest guard behind him, flailing at him with his bare fists.

"Isaac!"

The moogle glanced over his shoulder for a moment as he blocked an attack from the viera. Guinness was leaning out from the door a few metres behind him beckoning to the moogle.

"There's enough room now; get in here!"

Isaac nodded, and turned his attention back to the battle with just enough time to see the human's sword coming at his face.

The moogle bent back, feeling wind rippling the fur on his face as the blade passed inches above his nose. He came back up, and blocked one thrust from the viera, before swinging his blade back quickly to block another attack from the human.

Isaac held this block, and angled his gunblade at the human even as he concentrated. He pulled the trigger on the hilt of the weapon, and an enchanted bullet smacked into the soldier's forehead. He fell back, a dazed expression on his face.

Not wanting to waste the moment of freedom, Isaac leapt back, placing himself well out of range of a thrust from the viera's rapier. As he went back, he swung his sword, and moonlight gathered along its length. It burst from the tip, forming into a blade which rushed forward and slashed into the viera's torso.

She fell, bleeding, as her human companion turned and joined the bangaa in attacking the other guards.

Just for good measure, Isaac pointed his gunblade at the throng of guards who were still fighting amongst each other and trying to press through towards the door. He rapidly emptied the rest of his clip, charming each of the bullets, then turned and ran through the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The moogle stepped away from the door as Maxwell approached, pushing a large desk before the entrance. The mog knight bent over slightly, panting in exertion. These guards were far better than the average warriors he had found when fighting against the palace's airship fleets. Those three in particular had seemed quite well-trained; they'd known how to cover each other's weaknesses, and, more importantly, how to think on their feet.

Apparently, that was the level which guarding the prince demanded.

Isaac finally glanced up, and his eyes widened somewhat. Around him were the unconscious bodies of dozens of guards, strewn out amongst fragments of destroyed furniture. There were burn marks covering the walls and floor, as well as a few puddles of water where ice spells had thawed.

Standing around Isaac was the rest of the group. They were all busy either binding up the guards, gathering judgepoints missed in the heat of battle, or barring doors. The only ones who were exempt from these tasks were Lindsay, who simply stood somewhat separate from the others with an odd look on her face, and Montblanc and Guinness.

The moogle was bent over double, hacking and coughing into the crutch of his elbow, as Guinness carefully rubbed his back. After a moment of watching, Isaac noticed a pale white glow coming off of Guinness's hand as it passed over the moogle, and that the nu mou was whispering something beneath his breath.

Eventually, all of them finished their work and returned to the centre of the small room. Even the eleven of them in this space made it somewhat cramped; Isaac couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been for Marche, Montblanc, Caitlin, and Ben to fight against the press of guards here.

"Alright," Marche said, looking slowly around the circle at each member of the group. "We have to decide what we're going to do next. It's clear that Babus has betrayed us; if that's the case, we can only assume that there will be ambushes and traps set up for us throughout the palace. We'll all have to be constantly vigilant if we all want to get through this. Montblanc," he said, turning now to the moogle, "are you alright to continue? If not, I'm sure that Ben or Vili could sneak out of here with you."

"I'm fine, kupo," the moogle muttered, shaking his head and finally straightening up. As he pulled his black-sleeved arm away from his mouth, they all clearly noticed the slightly darker splotch of blood where he had been coughing. "It's just that damned law against Time magic, kupo. It's forcing me to use my big stuff."

"Alright," Marche nodded, not questioning the mage any further. "Here's how this will work. We know that we're not too far from the throne room; there's just one more hall, and then we're there. I doubt that we're going to have much of a chance to switch judges from now on, so do whatever you can to keep from getting killed. If you do go down, Guinness can bring you back; however, that will cost time and energy. Don't force him to do it too often, and, above all else and for the love of Mateus, _protect Guinness_. If we lose him, we're finished. Does everybody understand?"

Slowly, around the circle, everybody nodded. Marche let out a long breath, then said, "Okay. Let's go."

He turned towards the door which would take them to the hall leading out to the throne room. Everybody followed, and Marche placed his hand on the handle.

He was about to pull the door open when, suddenly, from behind them, there was an odd sound somewhat akin to that of falling water. They all turned, and shielded their eyes as a nimbus of light suddenly appeared before them, growing and expanding outwards. At first, it was just a great mass of brightness, but soon after it began gaining a more complete and defined form. Finally, the light died, and there, standing across from them was Babus.

The nu mou stood for a moment, his eyes shut, and his mouth hanging slightly open as he panted. His blue robes were stained in places with sweat, and his shoulders were slumped as he stood before them.

Finally, Babus opened his eyes, and looked up to take them in. Everybody was quiet for a moment as he watched them, and nobody in the room knew how to react. Then, the nu mou spoke.

"I—"

Babus went flying back through the air, not stopping until he slammed into the wall about two feet from the ground. He began dropping down, but was stopped as Marche grabbed him by the neck, holding him up and placing his knightsword against the mage's throat.

"You have lots of nerve coming here."

Babus gasped, his hands scrabbling ineffectively against the paladin' arm as he fought to get air into his lungs.

"I-I swear," he wheezed, "I didn't betray you—"

"And I should believe you why?"

"Because if you don't, you'll never make it out of here alive."

The words barely made it out past Babus's lips, and though his feet were kicking feebly against Marche, his dark blue eyes were set and hard on the human's crystal ones.

The two didn't move for several seconds. The room was silent but for Babus's struggling. The rest of the group watched on, not daring to intrude on the two.

Marche stepped back, releasing Babus from his grip. The runeseeker dropped to the ground, falling to one knee as he coughed.

"Speak," the paladin ordered.

"I was ambushed in my chambers not long ago. Apparently, word of my treachery reached the Queen's ears. I managed to escape, and spent what little energy I had discerning the plans made against all of you. At current forty archers are waiting in the next room, stationed in the alcoves lining the walls. They will destroy anybody who enters the moment they step through the doors."

"Dammit," Marche breathed, shaking his head. He glanced over at his group, already planning. "Isaac, Vili, do the two of you think that you could cover us long enough to—"

"It won't work," Babus interrupted. "These aren't just pathetic archers who've only been wielding their bows for a few months. These are forty of the palace's best marksmen. A one-handed gunner and a melee-trained assassin won't be enough to hold them for even an instant."

"Then what do you suggest?" Marche snapped, rounding back on the nu mou.

Wordlessly, Babus turned from Marche and limped over to one corner of the room. He bent down and pushed away a guard's unconscious body, and then tapped the floor, whispering something.

Suddenly, a perfect square, roughly one metre by one metre, flared up into light on the stone. It glowed for several seconds, and then dimmed down, revealing a large hole, leading down into a dimly lit passage. This hallway went on beyond the group's limited sight, but it seemed to head in the direction of the throne room.

Babus turned back, a small grin on his face, and tilted his head towards the hole.

"_That_," he replied, "is what I suggest."

There was silence as everybody took this in. Then, after a few moments, Marche nodded, and turned to the rest of the group.

"Alright. Montblanc, you're in charge. After I leave, go back out the way we came and head for the airship dock. Once you get there, take off, and fly to the hideout. I'll meet you th—"

"You're not coming with us, kupo?" Montblanc demanded.

"No. Think about it; why would they have just attacked Babus in the middle of this, giving him a chance to escape and tell us about the secret passageway?"

"Wait," Babus stuttered, eyes widening. "You're saying that they _let _me get away, and that there's a—"

"There is, without a doubt, some sort of an ambush set up in the throne room. I still need to take the chance, though, and speak with Mewt."

"If that's the case," Babus said, nodding slowly, "then I must go with you. There is obviously some sort of plot happening within the palace's chain of command of which I am unaware, and whoever is in charge is willing to gamble with not only _my_ life, but also the life of Prince Mewt. I must go."

"If you insist on going," Guinness said, stepping towards the pair, "allow me first to examine your leg."

Babus looked surprised for a moment, but that expression quickly passed as he let out an odd chuckle. "My leg is fine."

"The trail of blood you're leaving on the floor says otherwise," Guinness replied, raising his eyebrows slightly as he pointed downwards.

Everybody's eyes, which had been focused on both Babus and Marche for most of the past while, now went to the floor. There, they found a long trail of red going along the floor. It was clear that small, individual drops had been constantly falling, and the hem of the mage's robes had dragged them along, leaving large smears across the marble surface.

Babus, after a moment, inclined his head slightly towards Guinness, and a rueful smile came to his face. "I'd heard that you were an observant one, Guinness. The master of White magic has to be, I guess. But don't waste your time; I can walk on it, and I have so little magic left that I'll be useless in combat anyways."

"Are you certain?"

"Perfectly," the runeseeker nodded. "Don't waste your energy on me; you'll require all of it to get back to your airship. Now go, and don't waste time. Marche, shall we?"

The paladin nodded, and headed over to the hole in the floor. He helped to lower Babus down into it, being careful of his injured leg, and then glanced back over his shoulder to the rest of the group.

"Get out of here safely," he said, and then gave a small grin. "I'll see you in a few hours, hopefully."

With that, he jumped down. They could hear his footsteps and Babus's for a while. However, they soon disappeared, fading into nothingness.

Finally, Montblanc cleared his throat, and everybody looked to him.

"We should get going, kupo. Is everybody ready?"

When everyone nodded, he went to the door, and took a deep breath.

"If we run into trouble and we have to fight, then form up into a line. Maxwell, kupo, you take point. Caitlin, Ben, cover the flanks, then Isaac and Grans bring up the rear. Spellcasters, keep in the centre. Vili, Isaac, Ben, I need the three of you to tell me if you hear anything, got that?"

With that, he pulled the door open, and everybody stepped out.

They moved quickly into the hallway, each one ready for a fight. However, much to their surprise, they found that there was nobody there. All of them were quiet as the advanced down the hallway slowly, waiting for somebody to jump out at them. When they reached the end of the hall without anybody having ambushed them, they all relaxed somewhat.

"They must have left after we went in, kupo," Montblanc thought aloud, "assuming that we would move into the next room and be dealt with by that group."

"Unless they're just luring us into another trap."

"I had considered that, Caitlin," the mage whispered, surreptitiously glancing around him.

The group kept moving, trying not to feel too intimidated by the oppressive silence and emptiness of the palace. They went through several high ceilinged hallways, once or twice passing along the very exterior of the palace, so that they had views out through the stained glass. Several times, they took great staircases winding upwards, and soon they were quite high up.

During all this time, though, they met not a soul. Not even a lowly servant. The only sound any of them heard was the regular tapping of their feet on the polished floor, sending the slightest of echoes playing down the halls.

At one point, as they were walking through a long hallway which had tall windows covering one wall, Montblanc called a halt. Odd streaks of green and red from the stained glass painted him as he turned slowly, looking about.

"This can't be right, kupo. Where is everybody?"

"Maybe we're just getting lucky," Vili suggested.

" 'Lucky'? This is the palace we're talking about; we don't get 'lucky'."

"Think about it, though," the viera said, shrugging. "It's Gift Day; most of the servants probably have the day off. The few who are working will be overseeing the festivities. All of their guards are probably being used for the ambush they set up for us outside the throne room."

"Either way," Maxwell said, glancing about with a nervous look on his face, "just standing here discussing it doesn't change the situation; our only option is to move forward."

The group moved on again, this time perhaps a bit more cautiously. With each new hallway they would reach and find empty, their trepidation grew only greater. None of them were foolish enough to think that they would make it without a fight; it just wasn't feasible.

Before long, they were approaching their destination: the dock. According to the blueprints they'd gotten, it was probably no more than a few rooms and hallways away. They had just entered a large room; probably a ballroom of some sort or another, with several doors leading in and out. They kept walking slowly through the cavernous space, heading for their intended door on the opposite side, when, suddenly, there was an odd, soft sound. It was like a small piece of metal dragging on stone.

The entire group froze. Each one of them raised their weapons, preparing for battle.

Then, they all heard a sharp clap noise, followed by an instant of whistling wind. Suddenly, Eileen yelped, and slapped her left hand to the back of her right.

Everyone turned to look, and it was Isaac who saw the odd glint of steel at her feet first.

"A bullet," he declared, glancing down at the used projectile. He looked up at the others, and yelled, "We have to get moving, now!"

Even as he finished saying the words, several of the doors on the sides of the hall opened up, and guards began pouring in. It was incredible; one moment there was silence and emptiness, the next dozens of armed combatants were storming into the room.

As one, the group started heading for the door. Everyone, that was, aside from Eileen. Isaac, being at the back, noticed that she didn't seem to have moved, and he stopped beside her.

"Eileen, let's go!"

She didn't reply. In fact, she didn't react at all. Her hand was still holding the back of her other hand, and her eyes still held that same surprised look in them. Suddenly, Isaac understood.

"They used stopshot on her!" he yelled to the rest of the group.

They all hesitated, then. "What should we do?" Montblanc asked, looking to the experienced gunner for guidance.

"Go; I'll cover her and we'll get back once she's unfrozen."

"But Isaac," Maxwell said, looking around at the rapidly closing wave of guards. "There's too ma—"

"_Go_!" Isaac roared.

The others, surprised by the amount of force and authority in his voice, didn't think for a moment to disobey. They headed off, running for the door, and Isaac turned to face the tide of enemies approaching.

"I declare an engagement," he whispered, touching a finger to one of the cards in his sash. It disappeared in a flash of light, and then his gunblade came up, and started firing.

He managed to get off five of the ten shots in the clip, and then was forced to lunge forward, delivering a shoulder tackle to the stomach of the closest guard. This one stumbled back, and Isaac swiped his paw across, slashing through his neck.

Isaac stumbled back from that quick battle, and looked at the rest of the group closing in on him. Suddenly, he knew that the Materia Blade wouldn't be enough in this situation.

"Alright then, kupo," he muttered beneath his breath, and replaced the weapon in its sheath. Then, his paw flew down to the golden hilt at his waist, and he drew, for the first time, the Avuir Red.

It was an odd experience. Whenever he held the Avuir Blue, a lightness would flood his body, and, by whatever magical force it was that bound the weapon, gravity would just… take less notice of him for a while. However, with the Avuir Red, it was quite a different experience. Instead of lightness, the weapon added a certain… weight… to him. Yes, that was a good way to describe it. It felt like his paw, and much more specifically his wrist, was heavier, and bunched with well-honed muscle.

A small grin crossed the moogle's face, and he lunged forward, a spike of red leading him.

A spearhead lunged in at him. The moogle swiped forward, and severed the bladed tip from the weapon, slicing through as though it were nothing but butter. He took another step, and the Avuir Red bit into the chest of the bangaa who was carrying the spear, parting through the flesh like air.

Isaac spun and blocked an attack from a rapier, trying to angle his weapon upward so that he really did have it on the edge. Then, using nothing but brute force, he pushed the weapon up, and jumped back, slashing at the empty air.

Moonlight, tinted oddly with red, burst from his weapon, rushing forward and biting into his opponent's skin.

For the next minute or so, Isaac didn't move like a moogle normally would. Whenever he slashed, it was with the force of a bangaa. Whenever he dodged, it was with the grace of a viera. He read the battlefield and his opponents as only a nu mou would be able to, and his incredible ability to go from motionless to exploding with motion at a moment's notice was uncannily human. There was no telling how many he managed to drop; twenty, thirty maybe? Soon, there was a large circle opening up around him and the paralysed nu mou, nobody wanting to approach the dangerous mog knight.

He had just finished spinning around and firing off another mog lance when he heard a gasp. His head shot around, and he saw Eileen stumbling forward, releasing a curse. She looked up, and saw him standing there watching her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"I'm saving you, kupo."

"Saving me?" she said, incredulous. "Why?"

"Kupopo? It's what you're supposed to—" his eyes widened, and he pointed. "Uh, Eileen?"

She spun around, already pointing her hands and yelling out, "_Aufflackern_!" As she finished her spin, she saw the trio of humans who had been approaching her from behind.

Flames erupted from the ground at their feet, and the three of them were thrown away, smouldering. Eileen glanced over her shoulder at Isaac, and said, "Well, let's go!"

The two of them started running, sending occasional blasts of magic or moonlight out behind them or as guards moved out to try and block their path. Nutsy had already managed to get through the doors on the opposite side of the room, and neither of the pair knew how far ahead the clan would be by this point.

"I don't see why you're annoyed with me," Isaac muttered as they ran, throwing another mog lance out.

"You broke the line; that was a stupid risk to take, especially for such a small reason."

"Small reason? They would have murdered you!"

"No, they wouldn't have; they'd have taken me hostage and used me as a bargaining chip. Besides," she shrugged, letting loose a whirlwind into the crowd behind them, "I'm expendable."

"You are not!"

"I am, Isaac! To be totally honest, the four of us are small players in all this!"

"It doesn't mean that any of us are expendable," Isaac spat, barely able to look at her.

They had reached the door, and Isaac was struggling with pulling the huge thing open as Eileen blasted away any approaching opponents. She continued speaking, her voice as harsh as ever. "This is a war; there are going to be casualties. You have to come to terms with that."

"Not you!" the moogle growled, finally managing to get the thing open. "You _won't_ be a casualty!"

"And why the hell not?" Eileen yelled, facing his back. Isaac could hear the emotions clearly in her voice; anger, frustration, confusion. "Why am I the one person who won't be lost to this war? Do you think I'm stronger or more worthy than everyone else?"

"No, kupo!" Isaac's voice was rising, and he could feel a heat behind his eyelids.

"Or is it because you don't think I take this seriously enough to give my life up for it!"

"Of course not!"

"Then why?"

Isaac spun around, then roared into her face, "Because I love you, you idiot!"


	85. Storming the Palace Part 3 of 3

Isaac's entire body locked up the moment he said it. His mind went with it, suddenly refusing to process any of his thoughts. Had he just… no… did he?

Eileen was watching him, the shock on her face clearly reflecting his own feelings. Her eyes were wide, and her brow somewhat knitted as she stared. Isaac suddenly realised that her mouth was moving, but he wasn't hearing anything. Had he gone deaf?

No, no… she had stopped, her mouth hanging open partly as she continued staring. She hadn't been saying anything; she'd just been mouthing things wordlessly.

For what seemed like forever, the two stood there like that, neither moving, neither at all recognizing what was going on about them. Isaac was dimly aware of the heavy door that his body was keeping propped open, and the soft noise of swords colliding and spells erupting around him. It was all so far away, though. Right now, all that mattered, all that existed, was here right now.

Finally, Eileen opened her mouth, and barely managed to gasp out, "I-Isaac…"

That one word brought the world back to the moogle in a sudden rush. The noise of battle roared in around him, and he noticed the crowd of guards who were rapidly closing the distance between them. Adrenaline exploded through his veins, and then he was moving.

Isaac lunged forward, grabbing a fold of Eileen's robe around the hilt of the Avuir Red. He tugged hard, pulling her through the open door as she stuttered in surprise. He twirled, moonlight dancing along the edge of his blade, and threw one last mog lance into the throng. Then, he slammed the door shut, and turned.

For one moment, in the middle of his turn from the door to the hallway, everything seemed to be all right. Maybe he would be able to lamely pass of his statement as a way of saying he loved her like a sister, or something like that. Yeah… that would work. Nobody would ever have to know.

He finished his turn, and the Avuir Red clattered from the floor as he took a step back in horrified surprise.

The rest of the group, from Ben and Maxwell to all of Nutsy, were standing there, waiting for them. It took an instant for Isaac to realise that when he'd yelled that just then, he'd been holding the door wide open.

There was silence as the moogle stared at the assembled group, blood pounding in his ears. Eileen, standing just ahead and to the side of him, looked just as stricken at the sight of the group.

Oddly enough, it was Maxwell who saved them. Suddenly, the bangaa cleared his throat, and said, "Uh, that door won't hold for long. We should probably be moving."

"Right," Montblanc said, giving a sharp shake of his head. He turned to the right, and began walking. "We still have to get to the dock everybody. Besides, this isn't everybody's business. Let's move, kupo!"

As the rest of the group started moving off, Eileen, shaking, turned towards Isaac. Much to her surprise, though, he was already moving, following the clan.

"Isaac!"

"We have to keep moving, kupo," he said, not turning to look at her. He just kept his head down, and continued walking.

"But Isaac—"

"You're falling behind, kupo!" he called, still not looking back.

How could he have said that? How in the name of Famfrit could he have _said_ that!? It had been so odd; she'd been yelling at him, he'd been frustrated and high on adrenaline, and then suddenly he was yelling it. The words he'd held in for so long, hoping to never speak them aloud. Of course, he'd known that eventually it would have to get out; how couldn't it? It seemed like every other person who ran into him and Eileen when they were together managed to guess what was going on in his mind. First it had been—

Isaac let out a strangled gasp, and for a moment it felt as though his stomach was being ripped out of him through his mouth. He kept running, barely showing his hesitation, and took a deep breath as he thought about just how much he missed Jacqueline.

"They're coming!" Eileen yelled from behind him. Isaac gave a start, and glanced back for the first time. The Alchemist was a few steps behind him, and her head was turned to look over her shoulder. Looking beyond her, Isaac saw that the guards had managed to force the doors open, and were now beginning to flood out into the hallway to give chase.

Isaac sheathed the Avuir Red, and then grabbed his gunblade, tugging it out of the sheath on his back. Even as he did so, he spun around and began running backwards. Spending but a moment to sight his targets, the moogle pulled the trigger and fired off his remaining five bullets, enchanting each one.

He had barely finished this when from up ahead, Montblanc called out. "There's another group up ahead that's cutting us off, kupo!"

"We can take them," Ben yelled from right beside the moogle, his hands going to the hilts of his sabres. "There can't be more than twenty there…"

"I'm not worried about whether we can defeat them," the mage replied, breathing heavily. "I'm more worried that we won't be able to defeat them before our friends back there catch up to us, kupo."

"So what's the plan, leader?" Caitlin asked, glancing around quickly. "Maxwell and I could punch a hole through for you guys, and then fight our way out once you're all on the ship."

"No, I'm in charge, and we're not pulling any gambits, kupo. Besides, those uniforms… they're from Mewt's personal guards; these aren't the type you can just punch through…" Montblanc shook his head. It was clear that his mind was going in overdrive, trying to find a solution to the problem. Suddenly, he looked up, and said, "Maxwell, I need you to carry me."

"Uh… sorry?"

"Just pick me up, dammit!" the mage ordered.

The dragoon complied, reaching over in midstride and grabbing Montblanc from beneath the arms, and then tucking him awkwardly beneath his arm. The moogle squirmed a bit, getting his paws out so that he could point them forward unencumbered.

"Good…" he nodded. Then, his voice became commanding again, and he yelled, "Alright, everybody, get out from in front of Maxwell and I, kupo. If I pass out, Guinness is in charge; just get to the ship!"

"Wait, Montblanc!" Guinness yelled, glancing over towards the moogle. "You've already reached your limit today; if you try to surpass it by too much, you could—"

Montblanc pointed, and he screamed, "_Blitzaga_!"

Darkness gathered around the moogle's paws, completely masking them from view. It grew thicker and more intense as it got closer to the moogle's fingers, so that the actual paw was almost invisible. It built there for several seconds until the odd cloud of blackness was almost encompassing Montblanc. Maxwell, carrying the moogle, grunted slightly in pain as it touched his skin, but he kept his stride, not faltering.

Then, all of the darkness seemed to rush down to Montblanc's fingertips, and a blinding white and blue light exploded from him. It crackled and roared for a moment around the moogle's paws, and then, with a crack of thunder, it shot out dozens of jagged tendrils of energy to flail and grasp at the guards before them. A few of the guards, showing their incredible reflexes and skill, managed to dodge out of the way of the original forks of electricity, but then the bolts coursing through their partners' bodies passed through, reaching for new targets. Soon, a massive chain of lightning joined the entire group, and the horrendous stench of burning flesh filled the air.

Just as suddenly as the lightning appeared, it vanished, leaving long streaks of purple and red across everyone's vision. For a few moments, the group was running blind as they waited for their vision to clear. Once it finally did, several of them hesitated for a moment, staring in horror at the sight.

The charred and blackened bodies of the guards were littered all across the end of the hallway. Everywhere they looked, there were either mangled human remains or black streaks from where the lightning had connected with a wall. As they approached, they noticed several lumps of oddly shaped metal, much of it slowly losing a reddish-orange glow.

With a shock, Isaac realised what it must have been: Montblanc's lightning had been so intense that it had actually melted some of the armour and weaponry that the guards had been carrying with them, sending pools of liquefied metal splattering across the hallway.

"Famfrit," he whispered, barely believing any of it. He glanced towards Montblanc, and saw that his form had gone limp, dangling in Maxwell's strong grip. Isaac's eyes widened as he saw the trail of red dripping down from his mouth to dabble softly along the floor, and the mog knight's grip tightened on his gunblade. That blast had probably almost killed the Black mage; in fact, Isaac wasn't completely certain that Montblanc _had _survived the casting. Hopefully the laws of engagement applied to this sort of death as well.

The group reached the doors, and after Caitlin had wrapped her cape around her arm carefully, she pressed her shoulder against the heated metal. They all picked up the smell of burning fabric as she slowly levered the heavy door open, and held it as the others ran through.

As one, Isaac and Eileen both stopped when they reached the door at the back of the pack. They turned, and Isaac reloaded his gunblade. Then, he pointed, and as he fired off his round into the advancing force of guards, Eileen raised her hands and yelled, "_Gift_."

They just managed to catch sight of several of the guards turning to attack their companions before a massive, sickly green cloud rose from the ground between them and the force. Isaac glanced over to the Alchemist, and saw that she was still leaning forward, orange light radiating slightly off of her. Confused, Isaac glanced back, and his eyes widened.

Whereas before, the cloud had been semi-translucent, and had barely managed to block off the hallway, it was now a massive, thick form of green. Just by guessing and looking at how far it had advanced down the hall, Isaac would say it was probably at least three metres thick, and it left no space around the edges for a shorter trip through.

Eileen took in a deep breath beside him, leaning back and letting the orange light recede into her. She shook her head, and then glanced over and saw him looking at her.

The two of them stared for a moment, watching the other's reaction.

It was very hard to describe the next moment for Isaac; it was as though there was a magnet or something that was pulling him gently forward and beckoning him to kiss her. He could feel its power over him growing and slowly, he could feel himself leaning forward.

"Guys?"

Isaac stumbled slightly, and his eyes widened as he and Eileen both turned to stare over at Caitlin in surprise.

The fighter had a pained expression on her face, and both instantly noticed the small trail of smoke rising from her cloak. She was clearly trying to place as little of her skin up against the thin barrier between her and the simmering door as possible, but even still, they both noticed several small burns beginning to show on her skin.

"Could you just get in here, maybe?"

"Uh, right, kupo!" Isaac yelped, and he jumped through the doorway with Eileen just behind him. As soon as they were through, Caitlin released the door and hopped back, cursing loudly and throwing off her smouldering cloak. They both stared at the large red mark up the side of her arm, not saying anything as it began blistering.

Caitlin looked up at the two of them sharply, cocking an eyebrow at them. She looked as though she was about to let out a sharp retort, when the look in her eyes changed and she looked beyond the pair.

"What in Mateus's name is _that_?"

Isaac and Eileen spun around, and suddenly, each one was aware of the dull roaring noise that was filling the room, and the powerful wind that was tugging insistently at their fur and clothing. The dock was a massive room, at a kilometre in length, and probably more. The walls went up an incredible distance, before reaching a roof designed to open or close as desired. At current, it was lying open, allowing the blue sky and the clouds to gaze down within the place. Lining all of the walls were several airships, set up so that they could be pulled magically out into a main, centre aisle for takeoff. There were probably about thirty ships there at the moment, all of them of considerable size.

At the far end of the dock was the object of Caitlin's surprise. A massive structure was making a great roaring noise, and gigantic propellers were tossing up gusts of wind near to its base. It wasn't until the object rose a shuddering few metres up into the air that Isaac realised what it was: a massive airship.

His mind began flashing through estimates, and he quickly guessed that it was at least three hundred metres long. While this didn't seem huge, considering the size of some ships in the real world, for an airship it was simply gargantuan. Average airship size, and this was for a heavy battle ship, was about one hundred fifty metres.

Suddenly, the airship jumped a few more metres into the air, and a pale blue glow began gathering around its base. This light gave it a bit of extra thrusting power, and soon the thing was rising high above their heads, reaching into the sky.

"What is that thing?" Ben roared above the sound of the ship's engines. He had a hand clasped to his head, keeping his Blue mage's hat on amidst the great gale.

"It must be the prince's airship," Guinness said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It's the only airship I've ever heard of that has such a size…" He stopped, suddenly, his eyes widened in horror, then, he looked up at the ship again, and he mouthed something. With dread in his voice, he declared, "We have a problem."

"What?"

"That ship is only allowed to fly if the prince is on it; it's supposed to be for the sole purpose of making an unexpected escape from the palace."

"Wait," Ben said, his eyes widening as well now. "Are you saying that that thing…"

"Yes; it has Prince Mewt onboard. Marche walked into some sort of a death trap while the prince was spirited away to the ship."

There was silence for a few moments as everybody took it in. The operation had been doomed to failure from the start; they'd never had any chance of speaking with or convincing the prince. The entire situation had been a massive ploy to get Clan Nutsy and the remaining four members of the Five into a dangerous situation.

"Where's you airship?" Maxwell asked suddenly, glancing over to Guinness with a look of urgency in his eyes.

"Sorry?"

"We have to get onto your airship!" he explained, throwing his arms out wide. "If we can catch up with that ship and sneak some of us onboard, we can take down the guards and kidnap the prince."

"You're saying—"

"We can end this war," Maxwell declared, and suddenly the urgency in his voice made perfect sense. "Right here, and right now."

Everybody stared at him for a moment, all other thoughts lost. Then, suddenly, Guinness stood up straight, shook out his robes, and declared, "Follow me. We have to move quickly."

The group set off, running again. Guinness led them down the aisle past the rows of airships, not faltering in his step at all.

Finally, he reached one ship, and turned, running to its hull. He gave a hard slap on the wood, and yelled out, "Get up and get moving! We have to go, _now_!"

It was as Isaac was approaching, still at the back, that he saw the name painted onto the side of the ship. His mouth dropped open, and he barely believed his eyes as he read:

_The Fallen Star II_.

Suddenly, a familiar human's head popped up over the banister of the ship, glancing down at the assembled group.

"What's the rush?" Rolf asked, shaking the hair from his eyes.

"That ship that just took off," Guinness explained, gesturing vaguely towards the sky. "The prince was onboard. We have to catch it."

Without another word, a rope ladder was tossed down over the side. Guinness began climbing, as Caitlin held the rope steady at the base. Maxwell glanced over at Isaac as they watched the slow and steady progression of the group members climbing up the ladder.

"Shall we?"

"May as well, kupo."

Maxwell shouldered Montblanc and switched his blade for his spear, even as Isaac sheathed his gunblade and pulled out the Avuir Blue. Then, both of them jumped, Isaac flapping hard and Maxwell pushing off with the butt of his spear.

Maxwell rose up easily, passing over the edge of the banister and touching down in an easy crouch. He glanced back over the edge, and was surprised to see that Isaac was already almost to the edge of the ship, his enchanted blade having made the journey easier.

Isaac landed, and shook himself carefully, glancing around the ship. At once, his eyes fell on Rolf, and he saw that the human was staring directly at him.

For a moment, Isaac felt uncomfortable under that intense gaze, and he wasn't totally certain how he ought to react.

Then, a wide grin crossed the captain's face, and he said, a chuckle barely hidden underneath his voice, "It's nice to have you back on board, master Isaac. I've heard a lot about you over the past few years."

Isaac could barely contain his happiness as he replied, "All of it good, I hope?"

"None of the true stories, I assure you," the captain replied, and then nodded towards the rest of the ship. "Guinness is asking for a speedy take off. Do you think you can still keep up the pace with only one paw?"

"We'll see, kupo."

"Good. Get to work, then. We've got a prince to catch."


	86. A Desperate Plan

"The guards have arrived!" Vili's voice rang out over the din, raining down from the crow's nest. For a moment, all motion on the deck paused, turning to glance at the dock's doors as they swung open.

"You heard the viera!" Rolf roared. Standing by the helm, he cast his glare about the assembled group. Once he was certain he had everybody's attention, he continued. "Let's get this ship in the air! Everybody on the lines, pull harder. Mages, we need more wind. Isaac, head down to the machine room and help Foobar and Clay bring the propellers up to a hundred percent. Now, everybody, _move_!"

At once, everybody was moving again, and Rolf continued yelling orders and encouragement as Isaac released his hold on one of the main lines. He nodded to Maxwell as he let go, knowing that the bangaa would manage just fine without him, and then broke into a run towards the hatch which led down to the hull.

It had been perhaps three minutes since they'd all managed to get up onto the deck, and as soon as the group was assembled, Rolf had put all of them to work, preparing to get the ship off. They hadn't had enough time to get the ship into the main take-off aisle, so they would be relying heavily on a wind generated by Eileen to get them off the ground. Thus far, Isaac hadn't even had the time to exchange a passing greeting with Eugene or Tifone as they'd rushed about the ship, each one taking charge of different groups and directing them in their work.

The mog knight took the stairs down two at a time, jumping and flapping to the bottom when there were still five left. He continued running, allowing his ears to lead him to the engine room. He rushed through the door, and suddenly the air was heavy and warm with the heat produced by machines, and he could smell the odd mixture of sweat, fumes, and metal that characterized an engine room.

Isaac didn't pause to enjoy this familiar experience, though. Instead, he ran forward, yelling out, "Hey, Foobar, Clay! Get all of the propellers going, kupo!"

"Are those the dulcet tones of an ex-crew member I hear, kupo?" a voice asked, and Isaac jumped as he turned his gaze upwards. Balancing on the top of a large machine, turning several valves and watching dials was Clay, his fur as dirty as ever. Despite his friendly and joking tone, his eyes were locked on what he was doing, and concentration was knitting his face.

"Yeah, kupo," Isaac replied, already unbuckling all of his weapon belts and tossing them to the floor. He glanced around, and then headed over to a machine that was lying dormant. He hit a switch on its front, and watched carefully as it hummed to life. His paw began making slight adjustments on the dozens of knobs covering it, while his eyes remained fixed on a set of dials by the main switch. "Rolf sent me down here to help you two pick up the slack."

"Just what we need, kupo," Foobar's voice called out from somewhere deeper within the room. "The captain of a rival pirate hunter vessel tinkering around in our engine room."

"Former captain," Isaac corrected. "And besides, I wouldn't quite call the five of you 'rivals', kupo. For that, you'd have to present a challenge." His paw stopped its work on the dial, and he watched the machines readings for several moments. Once he was satisfied, he turned away, and began seeking out another machine.

Suddenly, they all felt a strong jerk upwards. Isaac instinctively braced for it, and wrapped his good arm around a pipe hanging from the ceiling. He glanced up, and saw that Clay was still at his machine, standing steady; however, his hands and his wings were spread out to their greatest extent, helping him keep balance.

"I'm assuming they've managed to secure the lines, kupo," Foobar called out. "You two alright?"

"Yes; keep working, kupo!"

The trio of machinists moved fast; soon, they had done the full rounds of the place, and had made sure that each of the ship's propeller engines was working at its greatest output. At one point, Isaac actually managed to catch a glimpse of Foobar as the mog knight rushed from machine to machine, but there wasn't enough time to really acknowledge each other's presence. They had to keep moving, and making sure that none of the engines were going to overheat.

As they worked, all three, accustomed to life in the air, began recognizing the familiar jerking and bouncing that meant that they were lifting up. Soon, they were all instinctually aware that they had left the port, and were out in the open skies.

Still, they waited until the door to the engine room pushed back open, and Tifone poked her head in before they slowed.

"Isaac, the captain wants you up on the deck," she said.

"Thanks, kupo," Isaac replied, nodding. "I'll be right out."

After she had ducked her head back out, Isaac walked over to where he had deposited his weapons. He was about to reach for the first belt, but stopped to glance at his paw. He sighed, then wiped the black grease and grime off on his shirt, making sure to remove as much of it as possible.

"Do you think you two can handle it down here without me?"

"We've been doing it for the past four years," Clay replied. He hopped down from the ceiling, and spread his wings to let himself circle slowly down in front of Isaac. "How have you been doing, kupo?"

"Fine enough," he replied, strapping on the belt around his waist. He reached down, and partially pulled the Avuir Blue out of its sheath, glancing at its length. He shoved it back in, then pulled out the twin red blade. He gave a grimace, and drew the weapon fully out. As he began wiping the blood off of the weapon, Clay stared at it, his eyes wide.

"So, that's…"

"The Avuir Red, kupo," Foobar supplied, stepping forward. He was dressed in his normal purple jacket, and had a red bandanna tied loosely about his neck. All in all, he looked identical to how he did when Isaac had first met him, but for a long scar that went along his left cheek. He eyed the legendary blade as well, and shook his head. "I knew you guys would pull it off."

"I didn't do all that much, kupo," the moogle shook it off, holding the weapon up to look for any more blood. "It was mostly Li—"

He stopped, suddenly, his practised motions shuddering to a stop as he stared at the red weapon. Its perfectly shined surface reflected a painted version of his face at him, and for one startling moment it seemed to Isaac like it was Lini who was staring out of the weapon at him. Had he always looked so… serious?

"Right," Clay said suddenly, his voice lowering. "Isaac, we heard about Lini, kupo. If…" he stopped, opened his mouth again, and then glanced over to Foobar for help.

Foobar looked at Isaac, staring at his reflection in the weapon, and then reached forward, tapping a finger on the blunt side of the blade and pushing it down from his friend's eyes.

"I only met Lini once, kupo," he said, shrugging. "I knew her father quite well. All I can say is, from what I know of both of them, they'd be proud of you."

Isaac stared at Foobar in surprise for a moment. Then, a small smile flashed across his face, and he slid the Avuir Red back into its sheath.

"Thanks," he said, nodding. "Could you pass me the Materia Blade?"

"Ah, the famous gunblade, kupo!" Clay said, jumping upon the excuse to talk about something he could handle easier. "I'd heard you were inventing a bit while you were away."

"Well, I had to come up with some way to shoot and fight with this thing," Isaac replied, hefting his ruined limb haphazardly. "It took me a while to work out the weight so that it balanced with the Materia Blade, but it works."

Clay picked up the weapon for Isaac, and his eyes widened as he hefted it. Quickly, he held it so that he could look at the hilt, and he inspected it very quickly.

"Ten shot clips?"

"Yep."

"Semi-automatic?"

"With a few limitations, yes."

Clay pulled the weapon out a bit, and grinned as he looked at the barrel that ran up underneath the blade's blunt edge.

"Based on the Longbarrel design, kupo?"

"Well, it had to be accurate."

"I approve, kupo," the gunner nodded, finally handing over the weapon. "Be careful up there."

"I will," Isaac promised, grinning at the two of them. "Don't let us fall, kupo."

"We'll see what we can do."

With that, Isaac turned from the two of them, and headed for the door. Even as he was closing it behind him, he could barely hear Clay's voice behind him.

" '…they'd be proud of you', kupo? Could you have been any more corny?"

"Ah, come on. Just because you have no rational emotions doesn't mean the rest of us are dead inside."

Another smile crossed Isaac's face as he pulled the door shut behind him, and he glanced up. Tifone was still waiting for him, looking bored as she leaned up against the wall. Isaac gave her a questioning look and gestured towards the passageway. She nodded, stood up straight, and began leading him down the hall.

"So what happened to the original ship, kupo?" Isaac asked as he glanced around.

"Ah, you noticed the differences?"

"The _Fallen Star_ was a trading vessel. This ship is designed for fast combat missions; a low armour, high speed jammer, kupo."

Tifone paused and glanced over her shoulder, giving him a surprised look. "You've learned a lot, haven't you?"

"Well," he shrugged, holding his arms out wide, "I _was_ hunting pirates for a few years. You pick these things up, kupo."

"Right," she grinned. "We heard about all that; you've been up to some insane stuff, you know that?"

"That's what everybody seems to think, kupo," Isaac replied, shrugging again. "Really, I've just been doing what it takes to keep everybody alive. It's not much more insane than what other sky sailors do."

"I highly doubt that," she replied, rolling her eyes at him. "Either way, the ship went down after a smuggling run for Nutsy about a year and a half ago. We figured that we might as well upgrade, seeing as we knew we were going to be getting into a lot of situations like this."

"So you guys are actually members of Nutsy now, kupo?"

"Unofficially, yes."

" 'Unofficially'?"

"They still have to pay for our services."

"Wow," Isaac muttered, eyes widening slightly. "That's a somewhat corrupt motive."

"It works."

By this point, the two of them were stepping up through the hatch into the daylight. As soon as he stood upon the deck, Isaac inhaled deeply through his nose, sucking in the clear, high-altitude air. True, at this height, it was beginning to get somewhat thin. However, the air was far cleaner up here than anywhere else, and Isaac had developed somewhat of a tolerance to the lack of oxygen over the years.

Tifone led Isaac up to the front of the ship, where several members of Clan Nutsy were already assembled, along with Eileen, Ben, Maxwell and Rolf. The captain was speaking, and everybody was listening intently.

"…the ship is designed both for speed and the ability to withstand a siege. Fortunately, they probably don't know that they're being followed yet, so the crew won't be putting the speed on."

"How close will we be able to get before they notice us?" Guinness asked, leaning forward as he stroked his chin.

"Nowhere near close enough to launch an effective magical attack," the human replied. "Probably well over a hundred metres, and that's an at best figure. Frankly, I don't know if we have any conventional attacking or boarding methods open to us. I've never actually seen _the Invincible_ in action before – very few people have. However, from all I've heard, its speed will be far greater than _the Fallen Star II_'s."

Everyone fell silent for a moment as they each began considering the problem laid out before them. Rolf gave Isaac a small nod as he walked up, and Isaac returned the gesture. The faces around Isaac looked quite defeated – between all of the fighting all of them had taken part in that day, the separation from Marche, Montblanc's sickness, and their sudden predicament, it seemed that they were reaching their limits.

"Sorry to interrupt," a voice spoke. Everybody turned, and their collective eyes fell upon Eugene. His white and blue robes had several small streaks of red running along them, and there were even a few such stains in the fur around his hands. As soon as he had everybody's attention, he continued speaking.

"I managed to stabilize your friend's condition," he explained, and Isaac realized he was speaking about Montblanc. "He had some major internal bleeding, but somehow he managed to centre the worst of it around non-vital areas. He's quite a talented mage, that moogle."

"Just ask the guards he fried," Ben muttered, and there was a general shudder around the circle as everybody recalled the awful reek clogging their noses.

"Either way," Eugene continued, "he's asleep now, and probably won't be up for a few hours. When he _does_ get up, though," Eugene's eyes and voice both hardened as he said this, "you must impress upon him to _not_ use any more Black magic. In fact, I would suggest taking steps to restrain his use of Black magic. He has incredible control, however if he continues at this rate, it _will_ prove fatal."

"Thank you, Eugene," Guinness said, nodding to his fellow nu mou. He thought for a moment, then added, "Please don't tell Montblanc of any of this. I would rather have Marche tell him."

"Of course, sir," Eugene nodded, then turned away, heading off to check on the ship's spells. Isaac watched him as he went, mildly surprised. He doubted that he'd ever seen Eugene that much respect to anyone, and that was including Rolf.

"For now," Guinness was saying, oblivious to Isaac's confusion, "let's see what we can do about this problem. Any ideas?"

Once again, everybody began thinking, trying to come up with some sort of a solution. Isaac, not knowing what else to do, let his eyes wander the faces of his companions. All of them were knitted with concentration, but none of them seemed to be making any kind of progress.

As Isaac's eyes wandered over to Maxwell, he saw that the bangaa was watching him. The moogle felt somewhat uncomfortable as he looked upon that calculating expression, and was about to mention it when Maxwell spoke.

"Isaac, about how heavy are you?"

Isaac was taken aback, and stared at Maxwell for a moment. Then, he said, quietly, "Maybe fifty pounds, kupo?"

"What are you thinking?" Eileen asked.

Maxwell was quiet for a moment, still watching Isaac. Finally, he replied.

"I'm thinking that Isaac and I could get onto that ship and slow them down enough for the rest of you to catch up."

"How, kupokupo?"

"You don't weigh all that much," Maxwell explained. "I could jump from this ship's deck to the other one carrying you."

"You could jump over a hundred metres with an added weight?" Ben demanded, looking at him with incredulity. "I understand that you're good, but that's just ridiculous."

"Under normal conditions, maybe," the bangaa conceded. "However, if I were holding the Avuir Blue…"

"A jump like that would be easy, kupo!" Isaac finished, catching on. "That's brilliant, Maxwell."

The pair turned to look at Guinness, their eyes asking for his approval of the plan.

For a moment, he didn't speak. He lowered his head and thought. Finally, he glanced up, and said, "You're certain that you could pull this off?"

Isaac and Maxwell looked at each other again, and after sharing a quick nod, Maxwell said, "Yes; we're certain."

"Alright," Guinness nodded, exhaling slowly and closing his eyes. He didn't open them as he began speaking. "Once we're close enough, go. Do not try anything reckless; simply slow them down as much as you can. If the situation becomes dire, then return to this ship immediately."

"Try to damage their sails," Rolf suggested, "and if the helm is near by, destroy it. However, until we reach it, I need everybody working as hard as they can. They've got several minutes on us, and it will take us some time to catch up to that."

With those words, the group split up again, each one going to help out in some way with the running of the ship. Isaac began heading towards the engine room, and disappeared into the hatch in the deck.

Eileen watched him go, and let out a resigned sigh. During the entire discussion, the moogle hadn't even looked at her. She'd noticed him watching everybody and reading their feelings, but never had he turned his gaze on her.

There was an odd feeling in her chest as she realised that their relationship would never be the same. Now that Isaac had said… _that_, he wouldn't be able to talk to her the same way, and she'd never be able to look at him as she had before.

She sighed, and then looked about the deck, her eyes searching. When they found their target, she set her face in a hard stare, and clenched her jaw. She could deal with Isaac and sort out her confused emotions later. Right now, she had some business to do.

With that, she set off, crossing the deck and heading straight towards Maxwell. He was helping Tifone as the viera got out some of the extra sails that they would be using to increase their speed. At first, he didn't notice her direct approach, but soon he looked up, and Eileen saw the recognition on his face. He leaned down, said something to Tifone, and stood up, walking to meet Eileen.

"I assume you have something you wish to speak with me about?" he stated as they met, each one carefully sizing the other up. He made the words sound casual, but it was obvious that he could feel the tension in the air.

"Your plan is reckless."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," he shrugged.

"Desperate?" she demanded, incredulity etched into her face. "You're risking yours and Isaac's lives on an ill-conceived plan for a chance that we probably can't profit off of."

He eyed her carefully for a moment after that, as though trying to discern her true intentions. Then, very quietly, he asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"You know exactly what I mean. Have you _ever_ made a jump that far? Particularly this high up, when you won't be able to get as much oxygen to your lungs? And besides that, even if you do land it, what's saying that the two of you will manage to slow them at all? You're both strong, but for all we know Llednar could be on that ship."

"It's a risk that both Isaac and I are willing to take for a chance to end this war."

"What chance?" she asked, gesturing towards the others on the ship vaguely with her hands. "Marche is gone. Montblanc is down. Everybody's tired from all of the fighting we've already done today. On top of that, most of Eugene's, Guinness's, Lindsay's and my magical powers will be drained just providing the fuel to catch up to the _Invincible_."

Maxwell grabbed her shoulders, and then hissed quietly into her face. "Are you willing to pass this up? Are you really? It's a necessary risk we have to take."

Eileen's eyes were like ice as she glared up at the tall bangaa, and she growled back, "It sounds like the same kind of 'necessary' that forced Isaac to kill Jacqueline, if you ask me."

The two of them were quiet for a moment, as Maxwell's mouth dropped open and he stared at her. He hadn't been expecting that kind of a statement from her. Sure, she could be harsh when she wanted to, but this…?

When a few seconds had passed without Maxwell having said anything, Eileen reached up and pushed one of his hands off of her shoulder softly. "You need to start thinking more rationally, Maxwell. In the past, it was always you and me who did that in this group. You have to start thinking about what you're doing right now, and stop thinking about avenging all of the people who've died fighting beside you."

"Maybe I shouldn't."

"…Excuse me?"

"You heard me." Maxwell was whispering now, leaning in very close and glaring right at her. "Maybe it's time that both of us stop trying to hold all of this in. Maybe it's time that we stop acting 'rational' and start trying to seek compensation from the palace for all we've lost. You can't tell me you've never wished that Bartholemue would come back and take responsibility of the guild back from you. That you've never thought you saw Professor Auggie walking down a hall in front of you. That you've never lain awake all night just aching for a piece of Quin—"

Maxwell's eyes widened as Eileen's hand grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him down to her eye level. She pulled him forward with more force than he'd known she possessed, and held him so that he was forced to gaze directly into her burning eyes. She was shaking, and he could just barely make out the tinge of orange leaking out of her.

"If you continue with your current train of thought," she said through clenched teeth, "I will kill you now."

The two of them stood there, each one glaring at each other as their faces almost touched. Both of them could feel each other's hot breath, sending warm flashes across their already flushed and burning faces.

"I just want to end this war," Maxwell finally replied, not backing down. "Being in control and wielding authority might feel right for you, but I hate it. I'll take whatever chance I get to finish this."

"Then we're fundamentally different, it seems. I don't enjoy being a leader or a hero; but I won't cast off that role. I'm strong enough to defend people, Maxwell, and so long as there's breath in my body, I will continue protecting everyone. You just want to end this war? Well I just never want to watch another friend die."

Again there was silence for a time. Then, Maxwell said, just loud enough for Eileen to hear, "I have everybody's support on this. It's happening whether you approve or not."

"I understand that," she nodded, not blinking. "Which brings me to what I wanted to say while coming over here in the first place."

"Which is?"

"Don't let him die."

With those words, Eileen released Maxwell, and turned away from him, walking towards the ship's aft. She didn't glance back to see the bangaa's reaction to her words. Instead, she strode over to where Eugene was standing with Lindsay and Guinness, reinforcing some of the spells on the ship's sails and hull.

As she approached, the ship's mage turned to look her up and down.

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, cocking his head. "Your face is all red."

"I'm fine," she said, a bit to quickly for her own liking.

He watched her for a few seconds more, then shrugged. "Alright then. Come on. We need your wind in these sails."


	87. Jump

"We've just come within three hundred metres of them!" Eugene called out, glancing over his shoulder at the rest of the group. Of course, there was very little he could see. The heavy, moist atmosphere of the cloud they were passing through obscured everything more than a few feet away.

Despite the group's lack of sight, they were all hard at work, trying to put on as much extra speed as they could before the other ship became aware of their presence. All of the mages, save Eugene, were pouring their energy into either the spells that added to their lift, or were supplying Eileen with power to keep her wind spells going. Eugene stood at the front of the ship, holding both of his hands out before him, with a pale white glow, tinted with light blue, radiating out from him.

Tifone was at the helm, her expert hands tilting it ever so slightly as she steered on feel. Occasionally, Eugene would shout out some direction to her, but for the most part she was guiding them on instinct. Vili had long since descended from the crow's nest, seeing as there was no point in remaining up there in such thick clouds. She was now with Caitlin, Ben, and Grans, rushing about and seeing if there were any ropes they could squeeze a bit more tightness out of.

Separate from all of the activity on deck were Maxwell, Isaac, and Rolf. The trio was near the front of the ship, waiting with a good deal of tension for their quarry to come into view. Rolf's eyes were shut, and his hands were spaced apart from each other as he whispered words softly beneath his breath. Both Isaac and Maxwell could clearly see the yellow light leaking out of him, making the air that it touched clear. However, as the light moved further and further away from the captain, it shifted first into several small flashes of fire, and then an odd layer of spattered rain. Beyond this sphere, the clouds that plagued the ship reappeared, and ventured out to cloak all of the area about them.

It was something that Isaac had never seen his former captain do before. True, when Isaac had been a crewmember on the _Torrent_, Rolf had often cast illusions upon their enemies to hinder, or occasionally even outright defeat them. However, the magic had always been used solely in combat; never as a means of pursuit.

Before he had started generating the clouds, Rolf had explained it to him. It was a combination of two of his illusions. The first one was nicknamed by spellcasters as the illusion of providence. It made the victim think that there were flames covering the battlefield, and, if the subject believed in them enough, these flames could even give them serious burns and drop them with smoke inhalation.

The second illusion was one that created the impression that the victim was caught in a vicious rainstorm. It had always been a favourite of Rolf's for its ability to confuse his opponents, slow their attacks with the rain's added weight, and occasionally even make them slip on the apparently wet deck. It was his fondness for this spell that had contributed to the naming of the original ship, _the Torrent_.

Over the past few years, apparently, he had learned how to cast multiple illusions at the same time. At current, he was using the two to instantly evaporate his illusionary rain, and thus create the illusion of a cloud around them. According to Rolf, though, he had very little control over the illusions that he created when combining two at once, so he couldn't limit them to appearing in his opponents' minds only.

So, the crew was forced to wait blind in a heavy fog until the mages on _the Invincible_ picked up their magical signature and realised they were being followed. Eugene, at the front of the ship, was busy trying to delay this as long as possible using his own magic. In general, all he was doing was throwing up a wall of White magic to cancel out the disorder caused by the other spellcasters on _the Fallen Star II_. On top of that, he had erected a massive spell of reflection using his Time magic, so that should any mages on _the Invincible_ send magic out to sense any approaching vessels, they would just feel their own energy sent back at them.

Of course, both of Eugene's tricks were quite weak, and he could only assume that a mage would manage to pierce through both eventually. So, he stood on guard, waiting for the feeling of that spellcaster's magic to crush his defences. As soon as he felt it, he would send word back to the others on the deck, and then the race would truly begin in earnest.

Maxwell was holding the Avuir Blue in his left hand, his right already holding his spear ready. He was pacing back and forth quickly across the deck, his breathing deep. Every once and a while, he would stop to look down at Isaac, as though measuring him up again. It was obvious that he was nervous.

_And why shouldn't he be?_ Isaac thought, watching his friend. This entire attack had been Maxwell's plan from the beginning. He'd been the one who had pointed out that they could capture the prince, and, further, the one who'd come up with the desperate idea of the two of them jumping onto the ship's deck to launch a surprise attack and maybe slow them somewhat.

The dragoon had already told Isaac that he would probably have to jump clear of him on landing, because he would be putting everything he had into the jump. As such, he probably wouldn't be able to make a proper landing, which would result in him having to roll so as not to break most of the bones in his body.

Isaac sighed, and readjusted his grip on the Materia Blade for the tenth time. Truth be told, as soon as Ben had come down to the engine room to tell him that they were beginning to close with _the Invincible_, Isaac's heart had been racing. He was scared. It surprised him; he'd never felt truly frightened in the air before, in all his life. During his many desperate fights against sky pirates, his duel against the pirate king, or even when he'd leapt off of the edge of _the Torrent_ in the middle of a thunderstorm four years ago, he'd never felt real fear. Those times, all he had felt was a mixture of excited adrenaline and steely resolve in veins.

This, however, was different. All those time, he had been in control. Though he'd been more or less certain each of those times that he would die, he had always been in control. This time, there was no control. He would be placing his trust fully in Maxwell, and then, assuming they survived the jump, he would have to trust that the crew of _the Fallen Star II_ would manage to get to them fast enough to prevent them from being torn apart.

"I feel somebody!" Eugene yelled from the front of the ship.

Instantly, everybody tensed up, and Maxwell stopped pacing. Isaac glanced over to him, and Max nodded. Isaac took a deep breath, and nodded back.

They were ready.

There was silence as everybody waited for Eugene's order. Then, suddenly, he roared, "Go!"

Rolf opened his eyes, and the clouds began dissipating. He straightened up, and yelled, "All mages throw your full energy into Eileen's wind. Eileen, don't hold back; we can have these sails replaced. Give it everything that all of you have got. Everybody else, _tighten those lines_! Grans, if you see any of them ripping, I want you to mend them. Let's move people."

The activity on the ship exploded, everybody rushing about to get to their respective tasks. Suddenly, the wind about them increased in strength a hundred fold, and, after a moment of being buffeted around, their sails caught it. With a sudden jerk, their speed increased, and they were soaring forward, approaching the edges of the vanishing cover of clouds about them.

Rolf turned to look at Maxwell and Isaac.

"You two had better get ready," he told them, nodding towards the clouds. "We'll tell you when to go, but it could be at any moment."

The pair nodded, and Maxwell held his arm down for Isaac. The moogle grabbed the hand, then scaled his arm, climbing around until he had perched himself on the dragoon's broad shoulders, covered by a long, dark cloak.

"Good luck," the captain whispered, and then he left their side, rushing to check on all of the operations. Isaac and Maxwell were left to stare out into the thinning fog, waiting for their target to come into view.

It appeared far sooner than they'd expected. The fog suddenly seemed to reach its extent, and simply vanished as though it had never been there. As soon as it was gone, the two of them caught sight of a massive, dark brown blotch hanging in the otherwise perfectly blue expanse before them.

"In the name of Famfrit…" Isaac breathed, and his pulse quickened again. "It… it looks even bigger than it did on the ground."

Maxwell didn't respond, choosing instead to remain staring at the great ship. The thing was incredible. It had three many-tiered masts, most of the sails on them folded or billowing loosely in the wind. Along with these, there were several more long, triangular sails attached on either side of each mast, only adding to its incredible size. The propellers, which had managed to kick up the small gale in the dock back at Bervenia, were now revealed in their full glory, cutting swaths through the wisps of cloud dancing about the ship.

Staring at the great behemoth, Isaac's eyes rose up until he caught sight of a very familiar red and white flag flying from its mizzenmast. He gritted his teeth, and swallowed. Yes. That was a palace airship, alright.

"They're starting to pick up speed!" Tifone yelled out, her eyes sharp on the opponent ship.

"Faster than us yet?" Rolf asked, turning to glance at her from the keel.

"Not quite…" she replied, her eyes squinting slightly. "It won't be long, though."

"Let us know the exact moment that they reach our speed!" Rolf ordered. "As soon as Tifone says it, Max, Isaac, you two have to move."

Isaac's eyes were still fixed on the ship before him, picking up the gradual tightening of the sails as they stopped billowing quite as much. He also noticed the propellers gradually picking up speed, and a soft blue glow beginning to emanate from the base of the ship. They'd definitely been noticed, and it was obvious that their opponents were preparing to move up to their top speed. It couldn't be much longer; what with their acceleration, Isaac was expecting the call to come at any—

"Now!" Tifone yelled.

Isaac felt Maxwell tense beneath him. Then, the bangaa took two steps forward, the second of which placed his foot on the banister surrounding the ship. He dug the butt of his spear into the wood beside his foot, and used it as a lever to catapult himself forward.

Maxwell kicked off, and as he placed the extra pressure on his trailing foot, the banister shattered beneath the force.

Then, Maxwell and Isaac were travelling through the air, the wind roaring about their ears, and their eyes drying at the incredible speed. Isaac was forced to seal his eyes shut and turn them away, growling in annoyance. He would have liked to have seen whether he was going to land or plummet to his doom. Still, though, it was alright. The two of them were still moving upwards in their gradual arcing path, so they couldn't be doomed yet.

Suddenly, Isaac's stomach jumped into his mouth, and it felt like he was weightless for one, clear instant. It seemed as though the entire world stopped moving around him, and Isaac opened his eyes again, finding he had a clear view of all that was happening. He saw, behind them, the crew of _the Fallen Star II_ hurrying around the deck, doing everything they could to not fall too far behind their opponents. An equal distance before Isaac, there loomed _the Invincible_, its great size making it seem more intimidating than any fortress he'd read about in his favourite books back in St Ivalice. He could already see several guards beginning to gather on the deck, preparing for their landing.

It took Isaac about half a second of watching their progress to realize that they were going to overshoot their target.

At first, he didn't understand what his thoughts had just told him. Overshoot? No, that wasn't possible. Max's jump had been perfect. From the moment they'd pushed off, Isaac had felt it all; it had been right. There was no way that they could go over…

That's when it hit Isaac. Eileen's wind. Neither Isaac nor Maxwell had considered the wind Eileen had conjured before taking off. It was pushing them further than they'd intended, and now it seemed that they were going to miss.

Dread filled Isaac up, as real and as powerful as he'd ever felt it. So, it would end like this? Not battling a legendary dragon, not stopping a bullet for the prince, not fighting alongside Lini, but like this, plummeting to his death because of a poorly thought out jump?

"Oh, like hell," Isaac whispered, and his instinct took over.

He lunged down suddenly, his good paw already sheathing the Materia Blade. His paw, now free, shot forward and clamped onto the hilt of the Avuir Blue, still clutched in Maxwell's hand. He turned to give Max a look, barely managing it as the wind whipped his longer headfur into his eyes, and tugged at the blade.

Maxwell too, had realised their mistake, and there was an unmistakable look of fear in his eyes. However, at Isaac's insistent nonverbal command, he released the weapon, hoping that the moogle had a plan.

As the silver hilt went from hand to paw, each of them noticed the drastic change in their movement. It was like an odd jerk, and suddenly their centre of gravity had completely switched about. However, before either of them had a moment to consider it, Isaac slipped the blue blade back into its sheath. His paw then switched over and touched the amethyst pommel of the blade's twin, and he drew it out.

Isaac closed his eyes for a moment, an odd comfort overtaking him. It spread throughout his body, and, even as they began dropping down again, and his stomach jumped into his throat, Isaac's breathing slowed. His grip tightened on the golden hilt, tracing the fingerprints of the Hero Gaol, and the first and the last of the line of Lini the Mogknight. He was in control; he had the ability to choose his demise.

And, frankly, he chose _not_ to go down like this.

Suddenly, Isaac, still seated on Maxwell's back, twirled, and his weapon slashed outward. Moonlight burst from the hilt of his weapon, and it flowed down in silvery strands to the blade. It assumed its form, all of the cutting edge and stabbing point included within it. Then, it blasted out, cutting through the air beneath them.

Even as the mog lance was launching from Isaac, he pointed himself down, and his wings altered their angles. Then, he started giving mighty flaps, using them to propel himself down and throw the wind out above them.

It was a simple enough idea, in theory at least. Using the mog lance, he had tried to displace and empty out as much of the air density below them, making less wind for them to pass through underneath. His wings were only helping the process, by gathering bundles of air and throwing them up above Isaac and Maxwell. Like this, the change in air pressures would pull them down slightly, and maybe lessen their flight enough to not pass by their target.

Isaac put everything he had into those flaps, knowing that he didn't really have any other choice. Either his desperate and, admittedly, flimsy plan would work, or he and Maxwell would plummet to their dooms.

Suddenly, though, Max grabbed him from behind, managing to place his fingers all the way across Isaac's back. The moogle started, surprised by the unexpected contact. He looked back over his shoulder, and saw Maxwell shaking his head.

"It won't work!" the bangaa yelled, and Isaac barely heard him over the wind.

Isaac gave him a helpless look, shrugging. "What else should we do, kupo?"

Maxwell reached forward, and, just as Isaac had done before, took the blade from his paw. Then, he grinned, and said, his voice almost quiet against the wind, "When there's no physically possible way to do something, ignore physics!"

With that, he spun, and slashed the blade directly in front of their current path. Even as he slashed, a blue mist enveloped his arm, and it extended outwards until it masked his entire blade from view.

As Max's weapon passed through the air, it left behind a large, jagged chunk of ice, simply suspended in air in front of them. Somehow, Maxwell had managed to create it so that it was following the exact arcing path that they were.

Then, the bangaa turned, grabbed Isaac, and planted his feet squarely against the block.

"Here we go," he growled, and kicked off, jumping from the suspended chunk of ice.

This time, Isaac was fully aware of the sudden change in direction, and his mind was paralysed by vertigo. He stared at the ship, now on a direct course with them. He briefly wondered why Maxwell hadn't thought of just doing this in the first place, but brushed it off. Most of Isaac's best plans were developed on the fly; Max probably worked the same way.

As they began closing with _the Invincible_, Maxwell roared, "You'll have to jump, Isaac! I'm going in too fast."

"Will you be alright, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"I will be if I don't have to worry about crushing you beneath my body weight, so jump!"

"When?"

"Now!"

Isaac growled at himself in annoyance, realising he had just fallen into one of the most clichéd traps of heat of the moment conversations. With little effort, he pushed off from Max, and then he was airborne alone, closing with the great deck. He had no trouble getting away; he had grown more or less accustomed to these sorts of manoeuvres during his many battles over the past few years.

When he was about ten metres from the deck, Isaac's wings flared out, killing much of his momentum. Maxwell soared by him, already pulling into a roll as his body smashed into the deck. Isaac winced somewhat, watching the big dragoon pulling himself into a tight tuck and sliding across the deck. As he hit, the Avuir Red flew from his grasp and clattered across the deck, finishing just in front of a large crowd of guards.

Realising that he didn't have a weapon, Isaac quickly reached up and drew out the Materia Blade. With that done, he prepped himself, and looked at the huge swarm of guards that was massing on the deck.

It wouldn't be easy to get through them. His best bet would be to try holding them off with the blade, while firing fireshots off at the sails. If they were lucky, Maxwell would be able to jump in order to find and destroy the helm. However, the odds of that working were slim to none.

Oh well. Isaac had been ready for this when he'd taken off. It wasn't any more or any less than his expectations.

The moogle's feet touched down softly on the deck, his wings fluttering slightly to help make the landing smoother. He stood there for a moment, catching his breath as the guards all stared at him, standing in a ring probably two metres in radius all around him.

Slowly, Isaac lifted his head, and then held his gunblade up to point at them. Maxwell was slowly pushing himself up to his feet by the mast, and the Avuir Red glinted red just in front of the guards. The mogknight took a deep breath.

"I declare an engagement, kupo!"

The guards took a step forward, all of their weapons coming out and pointing towards the moogle.

"Halt."

The voice that spoke was feminine, and, from the sound of it, human. As it spoke, all of the guards seemed to freeze, their eyes going wide in surprise. Even Isaac, holding his gunblade ready to slash, could feel an odd desire to obey the voice. It was simply that dominant; that authoritative. It didn't make sense to Isaac for a moment. He hadn't heard of any female officers in the palace's military. Khorin Blackhand, Babus and Llednar were all male, and from the rumours Isaac had heard, the mysterious commander of the palace's airship fleet was as well. So who could—

Isaac's thought process ground to a halt as something occurred to him. His eyes opened wide, and he glanced up, not daring to breathe as he realised whom it must be.

"Let me through to see them," the voice ordered, hidden somewhere behind the rows of guards.

At once, the guards moved in organised ranks to make a parting through their numbers. All of them sheathed their weapons, and faced inward towards the path that they had created.

She approached slowly, barely noticing the guards sweeping down into bows before her. The only sound that was made as she walked was the light patting of her feet on the wooden floors, and the rustling of her blue robes. Her skin, as white and pure as china, shone in the bright sun, and only served to better accentuate the shock of flaming red hair upon her head. Eyes as green as the sea never left Isaac's face, and it was impossible to miss the hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"Greetings, Isaac, fifth of the Five, heir of the line of Lini the Mogknight, captain of the _Red Flash_, terror of the skies, and prospective Ultimate of the moogles," Queen Remedi Randell said, her voice adopting a sing-song air as she went on with the titles. She inclined her head in a slight bow. "It is an honour to meet you at last."

Isaac simply stood there, aghast, and stared at the woman. What… what was she doing? Why had she, the head of an army he was one of the strongest opponents of, come to greet him personally? He could have easily lunged forward and killed her where she stood. So why…

As Isaac remained frozen in spot, he became dimly aware of Maxwell lurching up to his feet and walking over to stand beside him. The bangaa's grip on his spear was white-knuckled, and his eyes didn't leave Remedi's for a moment. As he approached, Remedi also turned to regard him.

Slowly, he stepped forward, approaching her. There wasn't a sound as he moved, not stopping until he was only a meter in front of the queen.

The two stood, staring at each other.

Then, suddenly, Maxwell knelt, bending down into a deep bow, and placed his forehead to the deck as he whispered, "Milady."

"Maxwell," she nodded, a smile coming to her face. "You have done well."

"Max?" Isaac asked, staring at the bangaa. He took a hesitant step back, not knowing quite how to react. What was going on?

The dragoon stood up again, his eyes meeting the queen's. She gave a slight nod.

Maxwell turned, facing Isaac squarely. His eyes were hard, and there was a deep crease in his forehead. His cloak billowed out behind him in the soft wind, making him look all the more intimidating as he towered over the moogle. He raised his spear, holding it in a combat position with both hands, and spoke.

"Isaac, if you want to leave this ship, I need you to give me the Materia Blade."

--

A/N: I'd just like to mention two things.

Thing the first: This thing is specifically to an anonymous reviewer named anonyman. You are crazy, and I actually laughed out loud when I read your review. Awesome. Thanks man.

Second thing of which there are two (things, that is): That whole description of what Eugene and Rolf were doing with their magic at the beginning of the chapter? I made that up on the spot. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I am _really_ good at bullshitting.


	88. Isaac and Maxwell

Isaac took a hesitant step back, his paw tightening on the grip of the Materia Blade.

"Max," he began, taking care not to take his eyes off of the guards all around him. "What are you talking about, Max?"

"If you will not hand the weapon over," Remedi's voice called out, "I will have it taken from you by force."

Even as the words left her mouth, all of the guards around the Queen began raising their weapons again, turning to face the moogle. Isaac's eyes quickly darted around, trying to get a rough guess of how many there were, but he gave up. It didn't matter; there were far too many for him. Even if he did manage to miraculously take down all of the guards currently on deck, there were probably dozens more waiting for him below.

Isaac swallowed, hoping that it wasn't too obvious, and then asked, "Maxwell, what the hell is going on?"

The bangaa hadn't moved since he'd made his original demand. His eyes were still locked on the moogle, and his grip just as tight on the spear.

At length, the bangaa whispered, "Your majesty."

The queen glanced curiously at him. "Yes, Maxwell?"

"Please, let me explain it to him. It would be far less trouble if he just ga—"

"Go ahead," the queen silenced him, the amusement clear in her voice. "You have been a loyal and powerful servant over the past few years. If you wish to, then I will not stop you."

"Thank you."

During the brief exchange, Maxwell hadn't looked away from Isaac, and the moogle had felt his eyes drawn inexplicably to Maxwell's.

"I've been working for the palace since the war in Muscadet," he began, his voice sounding hesitant. Isaac stared at him, his shocked and somewhat disgusted expression not changing at all. Maxwell sighed, and went on. "A few days after my battle with Khorin Blackhand, he snuck into my tent while I was alone, and offered me a position with the military. He told me that they would pull out of Muscadet, and that the war could end."

Maxwell fell silent, watching Isaac carefully. He waited, anxious, to see if the moogle would comment. Isaac, however, made not a sound. Finally, the bangaa sighed, and went on.

"I accepted. I had to. I'd watched so many people dying during those three months; I couldn't stand anymore. The enemy side retreated the next day, and my group went to Roda Volcano. That was where Queen Remedi first contacted me. She gave me a specific mission; become a double-agent, and attempt to defeat Nutsy and put down the rebellion from within. I accepted, and—"

"Why?"

Max started, surprised by the interruption. He watched Isaac for a moment, then said, " 'Why'?"

"Why the hell would you agree to that, kupo?" Isaac demanded, glaring at the bangaa. His breathing was getting heavy, and there was an odd fervent look in his eyes. "This—the rebellion's the only way we'll every manage to see Jacqueline again, kupo! She's all I've been thinking about for the past three years! And Ben, and Eileen, and I thought you, too, and—"

"Isaac," Maxwell said, holding up his hands and taking a step towards the moogle. "Listen to me. Right now, we're going on Eileen's theories alone that destroying the world will bring Jacqueline back. But they're just theories; Eileen's been wrong before."

"Never when it counted, kupo. Besides, isn't it better to take a shot like this than to just give up?"

"I'm not giving up!"

"Then what are you doing?"

"Isaac, the queen has the power to revive the dead!"

The moogle froze, his entire body locking up in surprise. His eyes darted upwards, and fixed first on Maxwell, then behind him on the queen. Revive the dead? Was that what Max had just said?

"That isn't possible," Isaac whispered, shaking his head slowly. "The amount of magic required to bring somebody back would kill the caster, kupo…"

"But I've seen it, Isaac," Maxwell told him, rushing forward suddenly and placing both of his hands on the moogle's shoulders. He looked Isaac in the eye, and made sure he had his attention. "With my own eyes I've seen it. She can bring the dead back, and she's offered to bring back Jacqueline if I help to protect this reality."

Isaac didn't blink as he watched the bangaa's eyes. He searched them as hard as he could, but found no doubt in them. Maxwell wasn't somebody who was easily fooled; but then how could it…?

"Isaac," the dragoon said, reaching out and touching the blade in Isaac's grasp. "Just give it to me. You can keep the Avuir Blue and the Avuir Red; if you want, you can even go back to _the Fallen Star II_. All you have to do is hand me that blade."

As the bangaa mentioned the twin blades, Isaac's thoughts inevitably wandered to Lini. All three of the weapons he carried were technically hers; he attributed most of his skills to her as well. What would she have wanted him to do? His mind instantly thought 'fight', and he remembered the mogknight as he'd last seen her. Battling against Llednar, and then managing to gather up enough strength even then to—

The moogle's thought process ground to sudden halt, and his body stiffened. Maxwell apparently noticed the difference, because he gave Isaac an odd look.

"Isaac?"

"Maxwell," the moogle hissed, barely getting the words out, "did you tell the palace about all of the plans concerning the fifth totema?"

The bangaa looked confused for a moment. "What do you mean? Of course I did, I—"

"You _knew_ Llednar would be waiting?"

Maxwell, realising what Isaac was thinking, took a quick step back, and his spear went back to its defensive position. "I did, but I didn't know that—"

"You didn't know, kupo?" Isaac yelled, and his blade, which had been loose in his grip a moment before, swung up and around into a ready stance. "You didn't know that the palace was sending their only agent able to kill somebody within an engagement for the express purpose of killing somebody, kupo? You didn't know that Lini would try and protect us? You didn't know that we didn't stand a chance from the beginning?"

The guards were beginning to fan out, preparing for the moogle to attack. Everybody saw where this was going.

"But that's exactly it, Isaac," Maxwell said in earnest, pointing back towards queen. "She can bring Lini back. If you help me keep this world alive, then you can continue living with her, for as long as you want. Don't you understand? We can have everything that we've ever wanted; we can have all of our friends, and live in this beautiful world instead of destroying it and going back to St Ivalice."

Isaac didn't reply for a moment. His breathing was still heavy, and he kept his baleful glare on the bangaa, but beneath his tough exterior, he was going over it in his mind. Wouldn't that be nice? Staying here with Eileen, Ben, Max, and even Jacqueline. Adventuring all of the time, never having to worry about school or the future or anything like that? On top of it, he wouldn't have to leave Lini. The two of them could be together, as they were.

At length, Isaac whispered, "That's not what Lini would have wanted, kupo."

The dragoon actually laughed at that, shaking his head in derision. "Isaac, she loved you just as much as you love her; maybe even more. She would have chosen to stay with you."

"Not like this, kupo," Isaac replied, and his grip on the blade tightened, so that the muscles in his arm went tight with the strain. "Not if it means that I have to sell my conscience."

There was silence as the two watched each other, neither moving, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Each one was going over battle plans and predictions in their minds, trying to use what they knew of the other's battle style. The guards didn't even think to step in and attack the moogle; this battle had become something personal, and they had no place in it.

Behind the tall dragoon, Remedi's smile widened as she watched the two staring each other down. The few times that she had spoken directly with the dragoon, Maxwell had been completely in control of himself. Despite all of the horrors he'd witnessed and participated in, he always kept a cool head while there were others around. All of her reports from other spies laid within the Red Dragons told her that not once in the past three years had the powerful bangaa allowed his emotions to show in his leadership; he was always cold and on task.

However, in only a few minutes, it appeared as though the moogle had managed to strip Maxwell of his defences. The mogknight was strong; that was clear. Whenever she'd read the accounts from the crews of ships destroyed by Isaac and his crew, there was always a good deal of detail on the captain's incredible skill and compassion. His crew was disciplined; yet, they would go to incredible lengths to protect one another. Isaac always led the charge, but never out of glory. It was to ensure that he accepted the brunt of the attacks thrown at his crew.

Then again, what else could be expected of a bearer of the Third Eye of Emotion? All those who bore the blessing and the curse of that power couldn't help but give everything, even parts of themselves, to those around them. Occasionally, it took somebody like that to draw out one's more instinctual and dark side.

Oh, yes, this was quite fun to watch. The two of them standing there, like a pair of lions sizing each other up. It was quite a deviation from her normal boredom to have such a battle taking place directly in front of her. The only question now, for her, was which of these two was the stronger? It might be interesting to find out, and, should Isaac prove the victor, she might just offer him Maxwell's position. Both of their minds were quite chaotic and confused at the moment; the moogle would be as easy to manipulate as the bangaa.

Suddenly, at once, Isaac and Maxwell sprang forward, their weapons flashing out. Maxwell made a direct stab with his spear as Isaac approached, and the moogle twirled around it, slapping his blade against the spear's tip.

The dragoon, using the momentum from this strike, changed his grip on the spear's haft, and twirled the butt around at Isaac's head. The mogknight, knowing that the attack was coming, ducked quickly, allowing the weapon to pass easily over his head.

Isaac straightened his back suddenly, lunging forward in a quick flurry of stabs. Maxwell, using the momentum from his previous attack, twirled his spear back and forth several times to pick off the attacks with each end of the weapon. Both of the combatants took a quick step back after this exchange, each pausing for a moment to regain their balance.

Maxwell was the first one to attack again. He suddenly leaned back for a moment, then rocked his torso forward as he opened his mouth. He roared, and the air before him visually distorted with the force of the sound, spreading out in a wave towards Isaac.

The mogknight slashed with the Materia Blade, and a flare of white light shot out from the tip. It cut through the wave of sonic energy, splitting it as the two attacks passed by each other. Isaac lunged forward behind his mog lance, even as the deck on either side of him suddenly exploded in fragments of wood with the force of Maxwell's attack.

The dragoon swung the butt of his spear up, deflecting the mog lance. As the light dissipated, he saw Isaac lunging in low at him, having used the attack to cover his movements. Maxwell, on instinct more than anything, jumped and tucked his legs, letting the thrusting blade pass by harmlessly low.

Isaac however, didn't stop his charge. Much to Maxwell's surprise, he ran right underneath, and kept on moving even after Maxwell had landed. It took a moment for the bangaa to understand this, but when he did, he let out a violent curse and twirled around.

Isaac raised his gunblade, and pulled the trigger several times, aiming his bullets at Queen Remedi's apparently unguarded form. Although a slight look of surprise came to her face, the queen seemed unconcerned, and Isaac understood why a moment later. When the bullets were about a metre away from her, they suddenly stopped their movement, as though having run into a barrier of some sort, and ricocheted off.

The moogle cursed, realising that she must have had some sort of a protective field of magic around her. That could cause trouble. There was no way he'd be able to pierce through that with mere bullets, or even the dull Materia Blade. So, instead, he fired his remaining bullets off as fireshots at the nearest sail, and then sheathed the weapon.

As he reached the part in the wall of guards, he reached down, and scooped the Avuir Red off of the ground, still lying where Maxwell had dropped it. He had moved fast enough that, fortunately, up until this point, only the judge had managed to keep pace with him. None of the guards had reacted, and Maxwell was still a couple steps behind him.

Knowing that it was his only chance of escape, Isaac raised his blade, and rushed in at the queen.

When he was about three steps away, an odd feeling passed across the entire deck. It was like… a soft wind. However, this wind seemed to all be heading towards one specific point, carrying with it a great deal of energy and power.

Suddenly, all of existence began leaning in towards the edge of the Avuir Red, being pulled in by some great energy. Everything, be it space, light, or time, bent around the weapon, wrapping around and preparing to blast out again. The power built exponentially with each of Isaac's steps, growing until it seemed like a maelstrom of existence had been amassed in the moogle's weapon.

Then, Isaac jumped, brought his blade down on the field surrounding the queen, and roared, "_Ultima_!"

Light, accompanied by an incredible silence, radiated out from the point of contact between Isaac's blade and the field. In that incredible luminance, everything seemed to disappear aside from the queen and Isaac himself. The moogle's ears were being pressed back violently, and there were waves of air rippling through his fur; but that was the only hint of what was happening.

A moment later, the sound of Isaac's Ultima charge caught up with the light, and roared all across the deck, deafening many of the closer guards. Even Maxwell, who was accustomed to the immense energy of an Ultima discharging, was surprised by the power coming off of this one.

The light and the roaring seemed to go on for hours, but, truth be told, it all happened in no more than a few seconds. Suddenly, the light stopped, the roaring dulled, and the world began reaffirming its existence properly.

Isaac had landed from his jump, and he was now on one knee, his chest heaving and his blade smoking as a result of his attack. After a moment, he managed to catch his breath, and slowly, he raised his eyes.

Queen Remedi stood watching him. He couldn't believe it; he hadn't touched her. He hadn't been sure while discharging the attack, but it was clear now; his Ultima hadn't even managed to breach her protective field! What kind of protections did she have on her?

There was silence around the deck as everybody stared at Isaac, the queen, and Maxwell standing a couple metres away from them.

At length, the queen whispered, "I believe I gave you an improper title when I greeted you, Isaac. You aren't a prospective Ultimate; you're an active one."

Despite his exhaustion and the hopeless situation, the moogle managed to grin, and said, "For about two years, yeah, kupo."

Remedi turned her gaze up to look past the moogle at Maxwell. "He appears to have a good deal of control over the attack; he managed to create a sizable charge without even using the Materia Blade."

"Yes…" Maxwell's voice was hesitant, almost frightened. "Yes he did…"

"You know what that means?"

There was silence for several breaths. Then, Maxwell said, very quietly, "I do."

"Good then," she said, and her smile widened somewhat. She turned towards the judge, and whispered a few words beneath her breath. The judge's chocobo gave a surprised warble, and even the judge seemed about to speak, but then he disappeared, simply winking out of existence. She turned back to Maxwell. "You know what you must do. I would also suggest that you stop holding back on using my… gifts…"

"Yes, your majesty."

"What are you two talking about, kupo?" Isaac demanded, finally managing to stand up straight again. He looked to the queen, but she appeared to be watching Maxwell behind him. So, Isaac turned, and faced the dragoon. "Max?"

The dragoon looked down at him, a somewhat sad look in his eyes. Then, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Isaac. You have to die."

The moogle's grip tightened on the Avuir Red, and he raised it defensively. "Kupopo?"

"My mission has been far more specific than I told you," Maxwell explained. As he spoke, an odd energy seemed to start emanating from him. It was as though, despite the bright sun above them, all of the shadows on him grew larger and darker, and began spreading out somewhat. "We had a very clear plan with certain objectives to eliminate the resistance."

Isaac took a step back in trepidation, his breath coming faster. What the hell was going on?

"Essentially, my job was this," Maxwell said, and suddenly, he twirled his spear around, bringing it to a ready position. As it passed through the air, it left an odd, dissipating trail of darkness in its path, partially blocking Isaac's view of Maxwell. The dragoon leaned forward, and said, "The elimination of the line of moogle Ultimates."

"Kupopo?"

"Originally, we were just going to kill Lini and then steal the Materia Blade from you before you mastered Ultima; however, you've already mastered it, so, you have to go."

"Why?" Isaac demanded, taking another step back. "What's so important about our line?"

Maxwell shook his head slowly. "You didn't do your full research on Ulitmates, did you? I'm assuming you never heard of the Prophecy of the Five Bloods?"

"No…"

"Too bad," Maxwell growled, and then he lunged forward, his spear leading and leaving a trail of shadows behind it.

Isaac dodged back, sweeping his blade across to knock the thrust out of his way. Pain raced up his wrist and he cried out in surprise as the spear remained fixed in position, the incredible strength of the block catching him off-guard.

Maxwell came on, and Isaac was forced to skitter backwards to keep out of range of several lunges from the spear. Knowing that he didn't have much room left behind him before he ran into a wall of guards, Isaac jumped forward again as Maxwell was pulling his weapon back for another attack. The moogle slashed out, sending a mog lance in front of him, and followed it up with a direct slash of his own.

Maxwell easily blocked the lance, then held his spear as he might a quarterstaff to block the Avuir Red on the middle of the pole. He looked down at Isaac, and as their eyes met, the moogle put extra pressure on his blade, trying to push the spear back.

The two stood there for a moment, glaring at each other as each one pushed upon the other, in a desperate battle for dominance. The guards had yet to move or try to jump in on the battle; they understood perfectly well that this wasn't their fight.

Suddenly, Maxwell raised his right foot in a straight kick at Isaac beneath their shaking weapons. The moogle hopped up, and his wide stance narrowed so that he placed both feet on the wide, muscled leg. Quickly, he pulled the Avuir Red out of the attack, then whipped his elbow across at Maxwell's face.

The bangaa removed a hand from the spear's shaft, and raised his arm to block Isaac's attack. Knowing that he would lose his balance if kept in this awkward position for too long, he drove his forehead forwards at Isaac.

The moogle leaned his own head back as quickly as he could, but the bangaa still managed to strike a glancing blow on Isaac's face. The mogknight toppled backwards off Maxwell's leg, staggering a few steps back to regain his balance. There were stars winking at the edges of his vision, but he shook his head, and turned his attention back to Maxwell.

Isaac's eyes widened, and he threw himself forward in a roll. Even as he hit the ground, Maxwell smashed into the deck where the moogle had been standing a moment ago. The boards groaned, and several splintered or even snapped under the weight of the bangaa's jump, but they held Maxwell's weight as he stood up again, twirling around to face Isaac.

The moogle had just come up from his roll, and was halfway through turning towards Maxwell again.

The bangaa, seeing his chance, raised his left hand to point at Isaac. He reached into that hidden, dark well of energy that Remedi had placed within him, and forced some out.

Suddenly, a tendril of darkness shot from his hand, lunging out and wrapping around Isaac's useless right arm. The moogle, surprised, looked down at the odd black chord binding his wrist. It was the first time he had actually been able to feel something with that paw in three years, and it was... cold...

A moment later, Maxwell pulled his hand back violently, and Isaac felt the chord jerking on his arm through his shoulder. The sudden, unexpected force dragged Isaac forward through the air, sending him in an uncontrolled flight towards Maxwell.

The bangaa took a step towards the flying moogle, then lifted both feet from the ground. He swung them forward, and delivered a two-footed kick directly to Isaac's chest.

The air flew from Isaac's chest, even as pain exploded around where the two feet, each one at least half his size, had pounded into him. His limbs whiplashed forward as he suddenly went from flying forward to falling back, carried by the force of that tremendous kick.

He cut a perfect line across the deck, his back smashing into the wooden banister which surrounded the ship. It splintered, and then broke, and Isaac, still unable to get air to his screaming lungs, fell back.

Then, he was in the air, and, filled with a terrifying jolt of vertigo, Isaac was falling.


	89. Eileen and Maxwell

"Ben, get up into the crow's nest and see if you can find out what's going on!"

The mage nodded, and headed over to the mast, jumping up into the rigging. His fingers instantly found holds, and then he was going up, his speed equal if not faster than it normally was when he ran.

On the deck below, Eileen leaned back, panting slightly, and pulled herself out of the spell for a moment. She reached up, and wiped sweat out of the fur on her forehead, blinking a bit to keep it from getting in her eyes. She wouldn't be able to keep this up for long; it was just too much. Hopefully, Isaac and Maxwell would be able to slow down the ship soon enough that her magic didn't give out on her.

The nu mou took a deep breath, then held it. She released it very slowly, and then began breathing normally again. She glanced up to Ben in the crow's nest, and yelled, "What's happening over there?"

There was silence for a moment. The Blue mage was leaning forward slightly over the edge of the basket, his eyes wide.

As Eileen watched him, she could feel her dread growing. Finally, she called out, "Ben!"

"They're fighting…" his voice drifted down, hesitant.

"How many guards?"

"No, not that…" Ben said, and once again, his voice was weak. "They're fighting each other."

Silence reigned on the deck for several moments after this declaration. Everybody's eyes were on either Ben or Eileen, gauging their reactions.

Eileen, as soon as she had heard the words, had felt her entire body freeze up. Her eyes were locked on Ben, and her breath was caught in her chest. Had he said that they were fighting _each other_? But… how…?

"There are a bunch of guards on the deck," Ben continued, not knowing what else to do other than describe everything he saw. "But none of them are joining in. And there's a woman… she's human, red hair…"

"That's the queen!" Guinness said, raising gasps from across the ship. "The queen was waiting for them."

"Dammit," Rolf muttered. He glanced around at everybody on the ship, and saw the sudden hopelessness appearing on all of their faces. Sighing, he took a deep breath, then started yelling. "Alright, everybody, back to your jobs. If the queen's on that ship, then those two are going to need us as soon as possible."

"But, if they're fighting…" Vili began, turning to face the captain.

"If they're fighting, then that means that there's at least _one_ person who needs rescuing on there. Now, _move_!"

At the human's sharp command, everybody got back to their jobs. All of the mages turned to Eileen, preparing to begin feeding her their power.

However, the Alchemist wasn't looking at them. Her eyes were fixed on the other ship, now, and, despite all of the power she had already used up that day, they could all pick out the orange light slowly rising off of her.

"Eileen?" Eugene asked, taking a tentative step forward. "We need you if we're going to pull this off."

Eileen didn't answer; she didn't even give any indication of hearing the Time mage. He was about to press her further, when a soft voice cut him off.

"The ultimate of the nu mous is needed for another task," the voice said, and Guinness and Eugene turned, shocked to hear Lindsay speaking. As they faced her, they saw a green glow, similar to that rising off of Eileen, building around her. The viera was silent for a moment as the other two stared, before continuing. "Feed your energy to me; I shall handle the sails. The Ultimate must prepare for battle."

With that, Lindsay pointed a hand at the sails. Her eyes shut for a moment, and the serene look that had been on her face vanished. When her eyes came back open, she growled out, "_Das Wind glänzt."_

Instantly, the wind built up about her, swarming up into a massive, swirling gale. For several seconds, all of that power, all of that energy, it simply circled her, tearing at her clothes. Her long silver hair was ripped out of its ponytail, and began whipping around her face, adding a tint of silver to the green that was all about her.

Her stance stiffened somewhat, she opened her hands wider, and the wind blasted out from the viera, and, for some reason, began reflecting an incredible white light out in front of her.

The wind shot forward and caught in the sails, instantly pulling them taut. To those watching from behind, it was incredible. It looked as though light, not wind, was pushing their sails, throwing them forward even faster than when Eileen had been handling it.

After several seconds of watching the spectacle, Eugene whispered, "Why didn't she do this from the beginning?"

"She's like that," Guinness explained.

"Ah. Do you think we should, ahem, lend her our power?"

"Yes, we probably should."

As the two of them began feeding their magical energy into the viera, Eileen was already walking away, headed towards the banister on the side of the ship. Her stepping was slow; unsure, even. The Alchemist reached the edge and simply stood there, staring out at the other ship.

"Eileen."

The voice surprised her from her thoughts. Eileen turned, and found, to her surprise, that Ben had already climbed down the crow's nest, and that he now stood beside her on the deck.

"Eileen," he repeated, "you don't have to worry about it. We'll get to them in time. We'll find out what's going on, and we'll save them."

"I know."

"It's alright to admit it if you're scared." The Blue mage's glowing eyes were oddly soft as they regarded her. "We all—"

"I'm not scared," Eileen snapped. "We'll make it over there in time, and we'll save… well, we'll save one of them."

Ben regarded her curiously. "Well, then why are you acting so… frightened?"

"I'm not afraid about whether or not we'll reach them," Eileen shrugged, then turned back towards _the Invincible_, staring at it. "I'm afraid of what I'll have to do once we reach them."

"What you'll have to do? What're you talking about?"

"This isn't the same as most fights, Ben," Eileen sighed. Subconsciously, she lowered her hand down to the handle of her mace. "It's… bigger."

Ben stared at her for a moment, then released an exasperated sigh. He reached into a pouch on his sabre belt, and pulled out a tiny vial of liquid. He held it out to her. "Drink this."

She eyed him. "What?"

"It's an elixir. Drink, then tell me what the hell you're talking about, because you aren't making any sense right now."

Eileen downed the thing in a single gulp, then closed her eyes, trying to get her breathing back under control. Finally, she opened her eyes again, and looked to Ben. The human was watching her, his eyes clearly impatient and his foot tapping on the deck.

"Well?" he asked.

She hesitated another moment before going on. Then, she said, "I hate to say it, but you're different from us, Ben. Things aren't the same for you as they are for the three of us. We're Ultimates."

"I know," he shrugged. "You guys control the greatest power in the world; I get it. It's not that big of a deal."

"It is, though. Those two… any of us three… we shouldn't be fighting each other!"

"Why not?" Ben demanded. "How does this power make you any different?"

"Because in the past thousand years, Ultimates have only battled each other on two occasions. The last time was when Lini fought Cheney in the Lutia Pass. The other time was during the battle of Ambervale."

"Must have been a long time ago," Ben muttered, his eyes still on the ship across from them. "I've never even heard of anybody entering Ambervale."

"The battle of Ambervale would be the last time that anybody's been there," Eileen explained. "It was during a massive revolution. The prince was leading an army against his father after having been banished many years earlier." A small grin crossed Eileen's face. "Pretty damned clichéd, huh? On the prince's side, he had three Ultimates: Martel of the viera, Sampson of the bangaa, and the prince himself, the Ultimate of the humans. The king's side had the Lini the Mogknight of the age, and the Archmage Nanette. During the course of the battle, Martel and Nanette found themselves fighting each other. Records suggest that their duel wiped out over five-hundred other soldiers."

Ben turned to look at her, his eyes wide. "Five _hundred_?"

"Yes. Both of them eventually died of their wounds after destroying a large section of the town. Thousands died that day; the prince, in his guilt, committed suicide on the battlefield. Sampson and Lini were the only ones left out of the five. Since that day, the royal family left Ambervale and moved to Bervenia instead."

Ben nodded slowly, understanding. "You don't want something like that to happen here."

"Exactly," Eileen whispered, glancing anxiously back towards the ship. "If I have to fight either of them, I'll have to hold back, or else people _will_ die."

"If it comes down to it, though," Ben whispered, following Eileen's gaze to _the Invincible_, "what will you do?"

"I don't kn—ah!"

Eileen fell to one knee suddenly, her eyes widening. Ben, surprised, turned and stared at her.

"Eileen?"

"Somebody's using Ultima!"

"Maxwell?" the Blue mage asked, a shot of fear running through him for Isaac's sake.

"No…" Eileen replied, shaking her head slowly. "Not Maxwell… this feels… stronger… so much stronger than when Maxwell uses it."

" 'Stronger'? Who could…?" Ben's eyes widened suddenly, and he knelt down next to Eileen on the deck. He grabbed her shoulders. "Not Isaac?"

"Who else could it be?" she whispered, though Ben could tell from the look on her face that she couldn't believe it either. "Maxwell still needs the Materia Blade to use it; and besides, he could never generate a charge this powerful. Isaac must have mastered Ultima."

Ben rose up slowly, shaking his head. His mind was flying through the possibilities, coming to grips with what this could mean. Of course, Isaac _had_ already proven that he was as strong if not stronger than any of their group while they were fighting Llednar. But still, having _mastered _Ultima? It seemed as though he had just jumped dramatically in power.

The Blue mage turned to look at _the Invisible_, and now he considered what his course of action would be when they managed to recover his two friends. Who betrayed who? What would he do if _he_ had to fight one? What if—

Ben let out a cry of surprise as suddenly something hurtled into the banister on the opposite ship. It smashed through the wooden beam, and, even as it began plummeting, he was yelling, "That's Isaac!"

"Where?" Eileen demanded, looking up. Her eyes caught the brown form, dropping from the edge of the ship, and she was quiet.

The two of them stared in silence as the moogle fell, broken bits of the banister seeming to hang in the air around him. His body was limp as it cut through the wind, his clothing flapping and billowing about him. The only indication that he was at all conscious was the Avuir Red, still clamped tightly in his left paw.

"Flap," Eileen whispered, watching him. Her breathing was becoming heavy, and Ben noted the tremor in her voice. She leaned forward over the edge of the banister suddenly, and yelled, "Flap you idiot!"

Ben watched the moogle falling for several more moments, then peeled his eyes away as he caught something on the edge of his vision. He glanced up to the hole in the banister on the opposite ship, and there was Maxwell.

The bangaa's long, dark cloak billowed out around him in the soft wind. Even from this distance, Ben could tell that his chest was heaving as he stared down at the plummeting moogle. His spear seemed to have turned black, and whenever the dragoon moved it slightly, it left a trail of darkness behind in Ben's vision. The bangaa was shaking slightly as he watched, and once or twice he shook his head.

His eyes rose suddenly as well, meeting Ben squarely.

The two of them stared at each other from across the divide, and both stopped moving. Ben stopped hearing Eileen's pleas for Isaac to fly, or Rolf's bellowed orders, or even the wind as it swept across the ship.

In his mind, Ben was asking himself one question. If Isaac _had_ been the traitor, then why weren't the guards attacking Maxwell?

"It was you," the Blue mage whispered. He could feel his right hand tightening into a fist around the hilt of his sabre, and he knew that blue light was beginning to leak out of him. "You did all of this."

It was as the two of them were watching each other, during that terrible moment, that they both realised the other's intentions, and both knew how it would have to end.

---

Suddenly, far below, Isaac, who had been fighting to pull air into his lungs, felt a release. He coughed and gasped as the burning in his chest lifted, then gulped in deep gulps of air. Even as he did so, he could feel slight painful twinges whenever his chest rose. That kick had apparently broken several of his ribs.

"Famfrit," he whispered, not even hearing himself above the roaring of the wind all about him. "This is going to hurt."

Then, he rocked himself around so that his stomach was facing the ground, and his wings flared out.

He screamed as the sudden force on his wings nearly ripped them from their sockets, and continued screaming when the pain of his broken ribs exploded through his chest. For several moments, he just hung there, gradually falling slower and slower as he panted for breath.

Then he forced himself to flap. His downward momentum stopped almost altogether. He flapped again, and felt himself move upwards, if only a foot. He began flapping his wings quickly in hard, strong pushes. There was a lot of sky between him and _the Fallen Star II_. He would have to work fast.

---

"He's flying," Eileen whispered, barely believing it herself. She watched as Isaac began making his way jerkily upwards, and then yelled out, "He's flying!"

"Is the lifeboat almost ready?" Rolf yelled, surprising both Eileen and Ben with his voice. Neither had really been paying attention to anything for the past few minutes. So, when they turned around and saw Clay and Foobar carefully using a pulley system to lift a small boat out of the ship, they were shocked to say the least.

"It's good, kupo!" Clay yelled, tying off a rope on the side of the ship. "Who's piloting?"

"I'll do it," Tifone said, looking to the captain. "I'm our best pilot, and we need you on the ship."

"Right, go," Rolf nodded. "Take off immediately and pick him up."

"But what about Maxwell?" Ben said, interrupting the crew's quick discussion. They turned to him in surprise, and the Blue mage pointed towards the bangaa on the opposite ship. "He'll try to take you down if you save him. You need some protection."

"Then I'll go with her," Eileen said. Ben turned to her, about to argue, but she cut him off. "You're a melee fighter. Unless Maxwell decides to land on the ship and fight you, you won't be any use. I can take him out of the sky."

"Alright, both of you, go," Rolf ordered. "As fast as possible. Isaac's good, but he won't be able to keep that up for long."

Tifone and Eileen nodded, and approached the boat. The viera hopped easily over the banister, and landed right behind the helm that was attached to it. Ben offered Eileen his hand, and helped her down into the small ship. As she turned to let go, though, he clenched her hand tighter. Surprised she turned back to him.

"Be careful," he said.

"I'll bring him back," Eileen promised.

The two nodded, and Ben released her. As soon as Foobar and Clay had undone all of the ropes attaching them to the ship, Tifone turned the helm, and they began moving. The skilled viera turned them in a slow circle, getting a feel for the small vessel. She took a deep breath.

"We've only got about half an hour's magical energy holding us up right now, flying normally."

"We're not flying normally, are we?"

Despite the obvious nervousness in her eyes, the fencer grinned. "No. No we're not."

"How long have we probably got, then?"

"At most five," Tifone said, not noticing as Eileen's eyes widened behind her. "Keep the dragoon off our tail, and hold on tight."

With that, Tifone tilted the boat's nose downwards in a movement so smooth and gradual that Eileen barely felt it. Then, they were plummeting, and Eileen felt her stomach jumping into her throat.

For the first several seconds of their fall, Eileen barely even registered the movement. Her eyes went wide as her entire body went into shock. She was accelerating faster than she ever had in her life. During some of her battles, the Alchemist had had quite a few falls; in an engagement in Cyril, she was once blown off the top of a building. However, this felt different. It almost seemed… faster, somehow. Was that possible?

It took a moment for Eileen to understand. Not only were they accelerating from the fall and the force of gravity; Tifone was using the ship's thrust to throw them into an even faster dive. But… how could the fencer hope to control this thing going at such high speeds? That was crazy.

Eileen turned her head to yell over her shoulder for Tifone to slow down, but something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She looked, and her eyes widened.

Maxwell was plummeting towards them, his spear leading in an all-out dive. An odd trail of blackness was flowing out behind him as he dropped, giving him the illusion of a black comet in the blue sky.

Eileen raised her hands slowly, the sleeves of her robe billowing out around them. Now wasn't the time to panic. It was the time to do her job protecting Tifone, and allow the fencer to do _her_ job.

"Alright then," she whispered beneath her breath. "Let's do this, Maxwell."

Eileen's fingers flared forward suddenly, almost turning to a cupping shape. She twisted her hands quickly, and roared, "_Wind_!"

A massive tornado exploded from her palms, blasting straight up at the falling bangaa. As the end of the thing pulled away from the surface of her hands, she pulled her hands away from each other, and pointed each one at Maxwell. In quick succession, she yelled out, "_Aufflackern! Aufflackern!_"

Above, but not far above, Maxwell pulled a front flip in midair, dragging his spear through the vortex of wind coming up at him. The tornado tugged for a moment at his spear, but dissipated.

The force of the swirling wind, however, had thrown Maxwell off just enough to send him into a violent spin. The bangaa twirled for several moments, completely out of control. As he plummeted, he suddenly became conscious of a great energy building beneath him, rising up towards him as he fell.

The bangaa turned his spear, using it as an impromptu balance, and managed to twirl himself so that he was facing downwards again. His eyes widened, seeing the twin kernels of energy building up beneath him. Knowing that running into either one of them in the midst of their explosions would kill him, he turned his body over to its instincts.

He sucked in a large gulp of breath, leaning his chest back. Then, he lunged forward, and a blue mist expelled from his lungs. It billowed downwards, covering the building masses of energy. For a moment, both of the orbs of fire became invisible, shrouded in the blue mist. Then the mist drifted away, and revealed two balls of ice, precisely where the explosions had been.

Maxwell pulled himself forward towards these two blocks, making himself go vertical to accelerate. As he drew level with them, he spun once, hard.

The butt of his spear cracked into one of the balls, sending it whizzing down towards Eileen and the ship. Even as he came around from this spin, he held his foot out and smashed it into the second ball, letting it follow the first.

Moving quickly, Eileen let loose a blast of water, making it collide with the first ball of ice. Though it didn't stop the ball, it did knock it off course just enough to prevent it from hitting them.

Even as she was pulling her left hand back from casting that spell, Eileen's right was pulling her mace from her hip. As the second ball of ice closed with them, Eileen swung out, smashing into the thing. She felt a sharp ringing run up her wrist, but she managed to hold onto the Zeus Mace as the missile careened away from them.

As Eileen regained her balance from the hard swing, Maxwell threw his hand down towards her. From the fingers, a long chord of darkness shot out, covering the distance between the two of them in a flash. The end of the chord touched against the base of the Zeus Mace, and quickly wrapped around its handle.

Max whipped his hand back, pulling as hard as he could on Eileen's weapon. The nu mou felt herself flying forward, and flailed her arms out. By a stroke of incredible luck, her free hand managed to grab onto the railing at the back of their small boat. As her arms were pulled in opposite directions, Eileen let out a yelp of pain.

Tifone glanced over her shoulder at the sound, and her eyes widened. "Eileen!"

"Keep flying!" the Alchemist roared back. "I'm fine."

As she said it, the nu mou turned back towards Maxwell. The bangaa was glaring at her, his hand steady. He wasn't about to let go, even if it meant killing her.

_Fine then_, she thought to herself, and her eyes narrowed. She wouldn't be able to use any spells that she needed her hands to direct; at this speed, that ruled out most of her ranged abilities. In that case, she had one option.

Eileen's eyes closed, and she took in a deep breath. Ignoring the incredible pain in her arms, she began focusing on the mace in her hand, bending all of her will and consciousness around it.

Even as she did so, the world seemed to begin leaning in around her. Energy, drawn out of the air itself, amassed about her. Slowly, it bunched up, becoming more uniform and focused around the Zeus Mace. Existence warped about her weapon, being forced into the head of the mace.

Eileen's eyes opened again, and she glanced up at Maxwell. He was still attached to her Ultima-laden weapon, but his eyes had widened in surprise.

The two of them watched each other, the sky rushing by them. Though neither spoke, they both understood the threat.

If Maxwell didn't let go, Eileen would. She would collide with him, and end them both.

A moment later, the black chord disappeared. It simply dissipated into dark smoke, as though it had never been there at all.

Wasting no time, Eileen heaved herself forward and back onto the deck of their small boat. She hit the wooden planks, and gasped, barely managing to contain the pain in her arms. She glanced towards her mace, still glistening with Ultima power, and focused on it. A moment later, the pulse of Ultima died down, and the energy seemed to just disappear.

Eileen took a deep breath, and turned back towards Maxwell. The bangaa was pointing his hand forward again, shooting out one of those chords of darkness. It blasted forward, and caught onto the banister attached to back of the ship. He grinned, and with a sharp tug, began pulling himself closer to them.

The Alchemist gritted her teeth, and glanced over her shoulder for a moment. "How much longer 'til we reach Isaac?"

"About forty seconds!" Tifone roared. Eileen caught sight of the moogle, still far below, but approaching at an alarming rate.

Eileen turned back to Maxwell, holding her hands forward. The bangaa was only about a metre from the ship, now. He would be on board in a moment.

The nu mou took a deep breath, steadying her frayed nerves. Then, she pointed at Maxwell, and growled, "_Meteorit_!"

Energy built up in Eileen's hands, beginning as a soft glimmer of orange, and then building. It got stronger and stronger, and soon there was a large ball of concentrated flames held in her hands, wrapped around a tight centre of super-heated rock. Eileen drew the hand that held her meteorite back, and glanced up at Maxwell.

The bangaa was well aware of what she was doing. However, his eyes were set and hard on her. For a moment, as she stood there staring at him, a horrible paralysis ran up her spine. She didn't want to do this. Maxwell was her friend. They had argued many times before, and at times they disagreed on things so fundamental that Eileen couldn't believe they ever got along. But still, he was… hers. He was part of that circle that she was part of, which made her who she was.

Maxwell gave Eileen a slight nod, betraying no fear or regret. The Alchemist's dry throat swallowed, and she launched her hand forward.

The meteorite crossed the distance in an instant, smashing directly into Maxwell's chest. The bangaa felt the air exploding out of his lungs, rocking his entire torso back violently. Even through his thick dragon scales, he felt the sharp pain and the intense heat. He tried for a moment to hold onto the string of darkness he had created, but the moment was fleeting. His hand slipped, the darkness disappeared, and Maxwell fell back.

Eileen watched in horror as Maxwell was launched back upwards by her meteorite, a pained expression crossing his face. His limbs flew back, and his spear went flying off into the sky. The force of the magical attack threw him up several metres, carrying him further away from her.

The meteorite's momentum died down, and gradually, Maxwell began dropping down again. She forced herself to watch him, not allowing herself to blink.

Suddenly, there was a flash behind him. It was so bright that Eileen was forced to shield her wet eyes for a moment. She glanced back, and her jaw dropped.

Right behind Maxwell, falling perfectly in time with him, was the queen. Her robes billowed about her, clearly showing the tight musculature of her frame. Her long red hair, whipping about her head, made it look as though her head had caught fire.

Remedi, as though this were something she were used to doing, reached forward gingerly and wrapped an arm around Maxwell's chest from behind. Then, she glanced up at Eileen, and gave a slight nod of recognition.

There was another incredible flash, and then the two of them were gone.

Eileen stared at the space where the two of them had been but a moment before, not quite comprehending it. Had the queen just… teleported?

"We're coming up on him," Tifone called back. "What's the situation back there?"

With a start, Eileen realised that Tifone hadn't been paying attention to the battle; she had been too focused on trying to pick up Isaac.

"We're alright…" she said at length, stuttering slightly as she said it. She glanced down at her hand, and to her surprise, it was shaking. She watched it a moment longer, then continued. "He's gone."

Gradually, Eileen became aware that Tifone was levelling them off, letting them coast down so that they would slip right under Isaac. The Alchemist watched her work at the helm for a little while, breathing heavily. Slowly, though, as the gravity of what had just happened sunk in, she felt herself going to one knee. Her breathing became much more ragged, and she coughed several times.

Tifone glanced over her shoulder, eying the nu mou with concern. "Are you alright? Did he hit you with something?"

"No," Eileen said, but it sounded as though she was speaking from far away. Tifone watched her a moment longer, waiting for her to go on. Finally, Eileen did. However, her words were quiet; Tifone could barely hear them over the wind. "I almost just killed one of my best friends."

The viera watched her a moment longer, at a loss for words. What could she say? She wasn't used to these sorts of situations. Eventually, she just turned her attention back forward, and cleared her throat. "We'll be picking Isaac up in five seconds. Give him a hand getting onto the ship."


	90. Fallout

There was a great commotion when the lifeboat pulled up level with _the Fallen Star II_. Everybody rushed forward to ensure that all of the occupants of the boat were alright, and dozens of questions began ringing out.

"Get back!" Rolf's voice roared suddenly. Everybody turned to see the captain standing at the back of the large group, his arms crossed and a peeved look on his face. "Let Foobar and Clay get the ship up, and then Guinness and Eugene can check everybody out. The rest of you get back to work. I don't want to risk hanging around here in case they send some ships after us. Get going."

As the rest of the occupants of the ship dispersed, Clay and Foobar hopped up and tossed a couple lines over to the other ship. Clay hopped the banister, and together, the two moogles quickly brought the two boats up alongside each other. Once they were done, Clay turned to face the other occupants of the ship, his eyes instantly going to Isaac. The moogle had collapsed on the deck of the ship. His breathing was haggard and sweat had plastered his fur down to his skin. Eileen was kneeling next to him, holding a hand out over him. Small bursts of white light kept leaking out of her palm, and sinking into his heaving chest.

"How's he doing?" the gunner finally asked.

"Not that good," Eileen muttered, gritting her teeth and shaking her head. "My white magic's terrible, but I've managed to keep him stable. Are Eugene and Guinness ready?"

"Yeah, kupo. Tifone, could you carry him?"

The viera reached down and carefully lifted Isaac up. Eileen and Clay watched as she stepped back onto the other ship, where Eugene and Guinness instantly began fussing over the moogle.

Clay heaved a very heavy sigh, surprising Eileen. She glanced over at him, cocking an eyebrow. "What?"

The moogle looked over to her, and shook his head helplessly. "This is just like when we first found him, kupo."

"When you first found him?"

"He plummeted out of the sky and broke through our safety net. He more or less ruined the left half of his body, kupo. We weren't sure that he would make it."

"He's got a knack for getting himself into those situations," Eileen replied, shuddering as she remembered the days following the prevention of the prince's assassination. Despite everything she had been through since, Eileen would still rate that as one of the most stressful times in her life. "I guess that I should thank you for taking such good care of him all the while he was with you."

"Are you kidding, kupo?" Clay grinned. "It was our pleasure; Foobar and mine especially. It was nice having another moogle around."

Eileen tried to smile back, but it came out forced. Eventually, she just shook her head, and said, "Could you help me off of here? I think I sprained my wrist while I was fighting Maxwell."

The moogle nodded, and together they managed to get back onto the ship. Clay and Foobar got to work hooking the lifeboat into the pulleys again, preparing to replace it. As Eileen walked away, Ben approached her, hurrying to get to her side.

"How did it go?"

Eileen sighed, and shook her head. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Ben nodded, and instead turned his attention to her hanging wrist. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Yes. I was just going to see if Guinness or Eugene—"

She was cut off as Ben reached forward and took her arm. Blue light sparked from his fingers, and his digits grew longer and slender. He pointed, and the blue light turned a brilliant white as it interlaced with the wind. Ben directed the small gust to gather around her wrist, and he held his focus for several moments as he finished up the job.

Finally, he released her hand, and looked back at her face again. "How's that?"

Eileen tested her wrist, moving it about slowly, and then shaking it violently once she became more confident. "It seems to work. Thanks."

"No problem," Ben shrugged. "I think that those two are going to have their hands full as it is."

Eileen was going to reply, but she was interrupted a moment later as a small thunderclap sounded in the middle of the deck. Everybody on the deck covered their eyes and recoiled in surprise. There was a brilliant flash, and suddenly, there was the sound of something smacking into the wooden floor.

For several moments, nobody reacted. They were all too busy blinking to get spots out of their eyes. However, as their vision cleared, everybody was left staring.

Standing in centre of the deck was the judgemaster Cid. His marvellous armour was as splendid as ever; however, sweat was wetting his hair, and his breathing was haggard.

Behind him, Babus was kneeling on the deck. There were several more tears in his robes than there had been when they had last left him. Several of these were stained with his own blood, and more than one was still dripping quite liberally. He was shaking uncontrollably as he knelt there, and his eyes were constantly going in and out of focus; sure signs of magic fatigue.

The last person that everybody noticed was Marche. This was because he was lying sprawled across the deck, the heaving of his chest being his only movement. There were burn marks and cuts all over his body, some of which had left his clothing in shreds. His knightsword was still in his hand, shaking occasionally with his breathing. His shield, attached to the other hand, was a sight to behold. The thing had been split almost in half, and a shallow cut marked his arm where the part was.

Finally, after several moments of just staring, Rolf took charge, stepping forward and looking them up and down. "What happened?"

"Llednar was waiting for them," Cid said, coughing as he finished his sentence. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself, then continued. "Babus used the little magic power he had left to teleport to my location. I went back, and managed to stop the battle before Llednar used Omega."

As the judgemaster finished, Guinness rushed up the staircase from below the deck, instantly going to his fallen leader. He knelt down and began searching his many wounds, cursing under his breath as he worked. Everybody watched him, not quite knowing what to do.

At last, the nu mou spoke. "If any of you have any potions or ethers, any at all, Eugene and I need them, _now_. Caitlin, Rolf, would you be kind enough to carry Marche down to a bed? And Lindsay…" he hesitated for a moment, watching the viera's blank expression. "Lindsay, if you're with us right now, could you heal Babus for us?"

The viera watched him in silence for several seconds. Then, she gave a very slight nod, and began approaching the exhausted nu mou.

The ship erupted into a surge of activity after that. Everybody came forward to give Guinness small bottles. Soon, the White mage was quite weighed down with all of them, and he gave a quick nod. He turned away, and headed back down the stairs.

Ben and Eileen looked to each other, and both of them recognised the same look on the other's face. It was dull, and confused.

After watching each other for some time, Eileen whispered, "We really screwed up today, didn't we?"

"So it seems," Ben nodded. He glanced over towards Babus and Lindsay, and Eileen followed his gaze. The two simply stood and watched her work for some time. She was holding her hand out, and letting soft white fire dance out across it. Wherever the flames touched, Babus' wounds would begin sealing up.

There was a general lack of activity on the ship. Even Rolf, after he had returned from carrying Marche down the stairs, was quiet. It appeared as though even he had run out of steam for that day. He simply walked over to the helm, and began directing their movement in silence. Occasionally, he would turn to Tifone and ask the fencer to adjust something on the ship for him, but that was it.

Time passed slowly during that afternoon. Everybody felt as though they had been sapped and drained. Even the most cheery members of their group couldn't find anything to say in order to lift the mood.

Somehow, Eileen found herself sitting at the front of the ship, letting her legs dangle out beneath the banister. The sun had already nearly set, and the first stars were beginning to come out. Some time ago, Ben had climbed up into the crow's nest, saying that he needed time to think. She couldn't blame him; everybody needed time to think after the day they'd had.

Eileen became aware of somebody walking up behind her. She glanced back over her shoulder, and was surprised to find Rolf standing there, his form barely visible beyond the incredible red light of the setting sun. He didn't even seem to be looking at her. He was just staring straight ahead, watching the world rolling by beneath him.

"This always was Isaac's favourite place to come and think," he said suddenly. He still wasn't watching her, but it was obvious to whom he was speaking. "I always used to come up here at night and find him just standing around, staring at the moon."

"Any idea what he used to think about?" Eileen asked, barely even thinking of her question. She was only half-listening, her mind being too busy trying to go over all that had happened that day.

"Very rarely would he say," the human shrugged. "I'd guess he thought about all of you, though."

"Yeah. _All_ of us." As Eileen said it, she glanced down at her hands, and sighed. She clenched them into fists, attempting to stop their shaking. She had to get a grip.

Rolf was quiet for a moment as he watched the sky, not noticing Eileen's momentary struggle. The pink clouds parted before their ship, spilling out on either side like long, slow waves of foam from a boat. If Eileen hadn't known better, she almost would have believed it was the clouds keeping them aloft, and not masses of magical energy or great mechanical propellers. For a while, she tried to imagine that, to hold on to that feeling of floating.

"Tifone told me about your battle," Rolf said suddenly, surprising Eileen from her fantasy.

She didn't even look at him, though, as she sat there. She hesitated for a few moments, then said, "I hope she didn't embellish the details. It wasn't that great."

"You were forced to almost kill your friend, Miss Eileen," Rolf said, and, unseen to her, rolled his eyes. "Don't pretend you're fine with that."

"I am, though!" Eileen snapped, turning on him again. "I did what I had to, alright?"

"Exactly, you did exactly what you had to. There's no reason to feel ashamed."

"I don't, though." Eileen had turned away again, staring out at the sky. "I'm feeling totally at peace and fine with myself right now. I don't feel any guilt whatsoever."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I feel nothing."

Rolf nodded slowly, considering her declaration. Then, he shrugged, and said, "In that case, I guess you don't want any helpful advice from a wise old man?"

"You're not old."

"Old enough," he shrugged. "Besides, you don't tend to grow to be too old with this lifestyle."

Eileen looked to him again, this time glancing curiously at his face. He still hadn't looked at her. He watched the sky, as though he wasn't even aware of her presence. As she watched him, so unassuming and open, Eileen suddenly realized why Isaac had liked this man so much. Still…

"I'm sorry, captain," she finally said, shaking her head. "I know that you're just trying to help me. I'm also thankful to you for helping us out, and especially for protecting Isaac. But… I don't know you. I can't have this conversation with you."

"I understand that," the captain shrugged. "I wasn't going to talk to you about it anyways."

"Then… why did you come over here?"

"I came to tell you that maybe, once Guinness and Eugene are done with him, you should try to talk to Isaac. He's got experience on this sort of thing, and, well, I'm sure he'd like to talk to somebody as well."

Eileen regarded him curiously for several moments, considering what he'd said. When Isaac had… had killed Jacqueline, wasn't he doing the same thing as when she'd fought Maxwell? Could it be that what she was going through right now, the odd hollowness she felt in her chest, was the same thing that Isaac had been living with for three years?

"Thanks," she whispered finally, turning away from him again.

"No problem," he replied, stretching. He turned around, but before he left, he added, "You might want to have another conversation with him at the same time. You could cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a knife."

Eileen whirled back around, about to yell out something harsh. However, the captain was already walking away, heading to the helm further down the deck. She watched him leaving for several moments, her eyes wide. Then, finally, she whispered, "Cheeky bastard," and turned back to the sky. She had a lot to think about.

---

At about midnight, all those who were asleep were roused, and then the entire group descended the stairs. They met in the captain's quarters, where an exhausted looking Eugene and Guinness were already sitting. Marche was lying in the captain's bed, but his eyes were open, and he greeted everybody weakly as they entered.

Shortly after the rest of the group had assembled, a knock came at the door, and Foobar and Clay walked in supporting Isaac between them. The mogknight's shoulders were hunched, and all of his equipment had been removed to ease his movement. He didn't look to anybody as he limped along, eventually taking a seat. A wince as he lowered himself was the only indication of pain he gave from his injuries.

The room was crowded, to be sure. In total, there were sixteen present: six from Nutsy; the three friends; the five crewmembers of _the Fallen Star II_; and Babus and Judgemaster Cid. Babus, though he still looked completely exhausted, had recovered from all of his wounds with Lindsay's help. The only member of the group that was absent was Montblanc; he was still too weak to be moved.

Once everybody was settled, Marche spoke. There was silence before he even began speaking. Nobody really had the energy to talk.

"We started today with high hopes. I had believed that I would meet with my friend. Babus thought that he was finally going to make the prince see sense. All of us were certain that, if not an out-right victory, that we would be striking a blow against the palace.

"Now, we find ourselves in a radically different position. Our mages are exhausted. Three of our group are heavily injured, myself included. Worst of all, we have been betrayed. One who we thought was a powerful ally and great friend has turned against us.

"Nothing I can say will make things seem brighter right now. The fact of the matter is that we have suffered a crippling defeat. As of now, we have no idea where Mewt is being taken. The Palace's forces have gained an immeasurably powerful commander: not only an experienced and feared warrior, but also an Ultimate. There is no hidden strategy or master plan that I can suggest to turn these developments in our favour. No matter how much I wish I could give another prospective on this, I can't.

"All we can do now is try to cut our losses and move on. No matter how tired all of us are, we must continue. Despite this loss, we're still fighting a war. We aren't taking a break. Firstly, Babus, I need to know what you plan to do now. You can't return to the Palace after all that has happened. Just know that there's a slot open for you in Nutsy if you wish it."

The Runeseeker glanced up, the heavy bags under his eyes making the young spellcaster look far older than he actually was. For several moments, he was quiet, clearly searching for an answer. Finally, he spoke.

"Thank you for the offer. However… I cannot. I do not feel right accepting this position. As it stands, Clan Nutsy and I may be taking a similar route for some time. However, our destinations are two starkly different places. I am sorry. I feel that I must journey alone from here on."

"I understand," Marche nodded. He sighed. "You may as well stay with us until we land. Speaking of which, Captain Rolf, where's our best bet for landings? I assume we'll have to refuel and resupply the ship at some point."

"It's a toss up," the captain said, shrugging. "I can't say that our path will be clear to any of our usual docking sites. The palace probably has dozens of airships searching the skies for us. Not to mention, after that landing at the palace, I highly doubt that our fake landing papers will buy us passage into Baguba anymore."

"How about Sprohm's old dock?" Eileen suggested. "It was pretty far away from Exodus; it can't have been too badly damaged."

"No," Babus said, surprising everybody. "While I was searching for the plans of your ambush, I found a few other secret military orders. Apparently, a heavy force has been moved into Sprohm recently."

"What?" Guinness demanded. Though he was the first one to mention anything, everybody else had the same incredulous expressions he did. "Sprohm's a wasteland, and it's too far from anything to launch an attack from."

"I understand it no better than any of you," Babus replied, holding his hands up to fend off the questioning looks. "It is simply the information that I found."

"Where, then?" Marche asked, glancing around the group. "We need supplies, and there are too many people on board for us to keep travelling for long without fuel."

"Set course for seventy kilometres north of Baguba, and four hundred twenty kilometres East, kupo," Isaac muttered. Everybody turned to glance at him. It took a few moments for him to notice, but when he did, he gave them all a very tired look. "I was the captain of a band of mysterious pirate hunters feared throughout the skies for two years, kupo. Trust me on this one."

There was silence for a few moments, then Marche inclined his head slightly, figuring that the reasoning was sound. "Alright, that settles that, then. Once we reach Isaac's mystery location, we can plan our course from there. If that's all—"

"Actually," Cid interrupted, making a slight clanking noise as he raised a hand to speak, "there was something I felt we should discuss, if you'll allow it."

"The floor's yours."

"Right," the judgemaster nodded his thanks, then cleared his throat. He looked about uncomfortably at the group for a moment, his eyes settling slightly longer on Isaac, Eileen, and Ben for some reason, and then began speaking. "I know it may be a bit early for some of you to be discussing this, but there are added repercussions to your friend Maxwell's betrayal. The four of you were quite close, yes?"

"Yes," Ben answered for them, already seeing Isaac's face darkening and Eileen's shoulders hunching. "We trusted him with our lives."

"That's what I was afraid of. Now, from what I gather, he was a major member of the rebellion for some time. He masterminded and led many strikes against the Palace. However, the problem is, now that he has entered enemy hands, all of the information that he possessed can be passed on. In short, anything that any of you have told him about your various groups is now in enemy hands."

This declaration was met with dead silence throughout the crowded room. Everybody's eyes were wide, many of them trying to list off in their heads all of the secret information that the bangaa would have access to.

The first to speak was Eileen. Her voice was soft, but still filled with a sort of dreading urgency that sent chills up everyone's spines. "He knows the names of many of the top mages in Cadoan's underground movement."

"He's actually visited most of our main bases at one point or another," Marche added. "And he could tell them about the Red Dragons' defences, and how to bypass them."

"New Cyril," Ben growled, the rumbling in his throat surprising many of those gathered. "I led him straight to New Cyril."

"With that much information, the Palace…" Eileen thought aloud, her voice hesitant now.

Marche finished the sentence for her. "The Palace could win this war tomorrow."

---

A/N: Alright, so, a couple things to mention. After several requests for me to do so, I've set up a character list on my profile. Please note; I've only got the characters from the first part of my story included, and only the ones who played a significant role or returned multiple times. On top of that, I'm only doing really basic information to prevent spoilers for people reading through the first time. So, for example, if a character dies, that _isn't_ in their blurb in the character list. Message me if you think you can remember anybody I've forgotten to talk about.

Also, thanks to a nifty (yes, _nifty_) new tool on fanfiction, I've managed, for the first time ever, to come up with a total page count for this story. As of this chapter's publishing Casualties will be 993 pages long. Say that aloud with me, everybody. Nine hundred ninety three. Thus, I'll probably hit the 1000 page length next chapter. Please realise that the sentence I do so, I'll make a massive note about it in the middle of the chapter, and I might explode. Just to let my faithful readers know.


	91. The Prophecy of Five Bloods

"Is there any way to send a message from this ship?"

"No; only the Palace has that technology."

"How about if we were to take a detour and stop by the nearest base? That way, we could send the message out to all of the other bases."

"That doesn't help Cadoan, the Red Dragons, or New Cyril, though!"

"Besides, if we did that, we would more or less have to abandon the ship; we don't have enough fuel onboard to make an emergency detour _and_ get to Isaac's secret dock."

"There's an alternative," Cid offered, and everybody stopped their discussions to turn to the man. After he had everybody's attention, he said, "Well, I _am_ a judge. I can teleport to any location that I have the location of."

"Could you make all those journeys in one day?" Marche asked, assuming control again.

"I could, though I'll need to rest first. Doing two tandem teleportations in a row takes its toll. If you give me until tomorrow morning, I'll be able to get everywhere."

"Then what should we tell everybody?" Caitlin asked, leaning back and shrugging. "We can't just tell them to abandon the bases. There has to be a rally point of some kind. We need a new headquarters."

"Tell them to meet at Tubola Cave," Eileen said. Isaac and Ben both glanced sharply at her, each one instantly understanding what she was thinking. Tubola was the cave mouth that the three of them, with Jacqueline, had used to reach Jagd Helje while attempting to rescue Maxwell.

"That's a jagd, Eileen," Ben said, seeing as nobody else was speaking. "Not to mention, the thing becomes infested with zombies at night. It's too dangerous."

"A year and a half ago, I lead a team of White mages, white monks, and other spellcasters in there," Eileen replied, inviting looks of shocked surprise from all those gathered. "We managed to clear out all of the zombies. It's still a jagd, but we don't have to worry about the undead."

"And you're certain Maxwell doesn't know about it?" Marche demanded.

"Completely. I used only my most trusted partners, and covered it up as an expedition to deal with reports of zombie activity in the Lutia Pass. I was originally planning on using it as a back-up hideout if the Palace ever tried to pull another Cyril, but I never got the chance."

Marche lay back in his bed, closing his eyes for several moments as he thought it over. Nobody had to tell him of the dangers that hiding out in a Jagd would present. Tension was high amongst most of the members of the rebellion; the odds of a fight breaking out…

"Alright," he said finally, looking back to Cid. "We'll let you know where to go, and you tell them to meet at Tubola. Does that work for everybody?"

Several of the members of Clan Nutsy looked as though they were about to object, and even Isaac looked up. However, all of them held their tongues, until Ben suddenly whispered,

"That won't work for New Cyril."

"Why?"

The Blue mage sighed, rubbing his forehead. "There's a large anti-teleportation field around it. Don't ask me why; it has something to do with the natural magic gathered around the area. The only way somebody could get in there is if a judge was actually summoned for an engagement, but we've got strict rules in place banning engagements within the village." He glanced over to Grans, and asked, "Can you think of any other way?"

"None," she replied. She threaded her fingers together, and assumed a pensive pose. "The only way I can think of is if he were to teleport you or I to the outskirts of the Koringwood. We would be able to find our way from there, and lead a group out."

The pair turned to look at Cid, their eyes questioning. He rubbed the short stubble on his chin for a few seconds, thinking it over. Finally, he muttered, "I _could_ do it. It would take a lot out of me, though, to teleport both of you at once. It would probably work best if I did it after visiting the rest, just to make sure that I don't run out of power half way through the day."

Ben and Grans both nodded as one, accepting the plan.

"Good," Marche sighed, glancing around at the group. He took in a deep breath, and then looked around the room at his assembled group. "Is everybody alright with this plan? Do you think that your group will be safe, Isaac?"

"They ought to be, kupo," Isaac muttered, but it was clear that he was giving it a good deal of thought. "I didn't tell Maxwell much, and they wouldn't be able to track down the ship while it's in the sky. They'll be safe."

"Good," the paladin nodded. "In that case, we all might as well get some sleep. We're in for another long day tomorrow. When should we be arriving at the dock?"

"Probably by late tomorrow morning," Rolf guessed. "So long as we keep going through the night, we'll make it for sure."

"Cid, you may as well wait until we get there. That way, you'll know where to come back to pick up Ben and Grans. Everybody else who isn't working the ship, sleep."

With that, the meeting broke up. Most of them made their ways to the couple extra rooms there were on the ship, getting ready for a night on the floor. Marche lay back, and closed his eyes, though it was clear he wasn't sleeping. The crew of the Torrent all gathered in a small group in the middle of the room, Rolf giving a few brief orders for turns working during the night.

The only other three remained were Isaac, Ben, and Eileen. None of them had moved while the others had been filing out, and now, discretely, the human and the nu mou helped Isaac to his feet, and the trio walked out of the room. They made their way up the stairs, and onto the abandoned deck.

It was becoming a chilly night; this high up in the skies during early autumn, it was no surprise, really. A bit of a wind passed over the deck as they made their way to the front of the ship, none of them speaking.

Finally, all three sat down, and they all stared at each other for a few moments.

"I guess we have a few decisions to make," Eileen said at length, and the other two nodded.

"First things first," Ben said, then glanced meaningfully over at Isaac. "What happened over there?"

The moogle wasn't looking at them. He was leaning back on his hands, clearly trying to keep any weight off of his chest. His head was looking straight up, the light of the moon giving his fur a pale glow.

After some time, the moogle took a deep breath, and said, "Maxwell's been working for the Palace since Muscadet. He traded his services for the end of the war, kupo."

"That explains quite a bit, then," Eileen muttered, and the other two glanced at her questioningly. "Nobody ever really understood why the palace decided to pull out. It seemed to just happen randomly."

"And that's why he betrayed everybody?" Ben asked, turning to look at Isaac again.

The moogle hesitated. He could feel his teeth closing around his bottom lip, and he glanced down at Ben despite himself. He wasn't sure whether he should say this next bit. How would they react? What if…?

"There's more. Maxwell said that the Queen knows how to revive the dead, kupo. She's offering to… to resurrect Jacqueline if he helps her."

Even though he wasn't looking directly at either of them, Isaac clearly saw the flinches running through his friends' features. He took a deep breath, and leaned back all of the way onto the deck, waiting for one of them to speak.

"That isn't possible," Eileen finally said, though her voice was shaky. "The amount of White magic required to bring somebody back from the dead would kill the user."

"That's what I told him, kupo."

"And what did he say?" Ben demanded.

Isaac breathed out through his nose. "He said that he'd seen her do it, kupo."

The three of them fell quiet after this declaration. Despite Isaac's apparently calm exterior, his mind was going in overdrive. This was the first time he'd had to really fully consider what Maxwell had said. Since the betrayal, he'd spent every moment either fighting for his life or being numbed by White magic. He stood by his actions in response to Maxwell's demands, but still…

"So what happened after that?" Eileen finally asked, her voice soft.

Isaac thought back. After that, much of it got hazy; he remembered smattered bits of intense combat, and occasional jolts of pain. "He said that he wanted the Materia Blade, kupo, until he found out that I could use Ultima on my own. Then he said he had to kill me, and specifically me."

"Why?"

"Something to do with…" Isaac paused, trying to recall the name. "The Prophecy of Five Bloods? Does that ring any bells, Eileen?"

Eileen sat there, thinking for several moments. Then, she reached into her travelling bag, and pulled out a large tome. She laid it out on the deck, revealing an old and weathered leather cover. On the front, there was an odd symbold.

It was a pentagram, enclosed within a larger circle. At each of the five points, there was a small symbol, each one intricate in its detail despite the incredible age.

"This is the best tome on Ultimates that exists in the libraries of Cadoan," Eileen explained, pointing down towards the pentagram. "This symbol is one of the most ancient ones we still possess. It represents the relationship of the Ultimates." She brought her hand down, and pointed specifically to the symbol in the bottom left point of the pentagram's star. Isaac's eyes lit up, instantly recognizing the image of a blade stuck through a crescent moon's curve. "This is the symbol of the mogknight." Her hand moved across to the other bottom point, showing an incredible sun with a blade stabbed into the curve. "The symbol of the gladiator." Her hand moved up, pointing to the middle left point. This one had the image of several small spots, which Isaac identified as stars, and the image of a katana drawn by them. "The symbol of the assassin." She pointed now to the middle right symbol, which showed a globe that Isaac assumed was the Earth. A bow was being bent around its curve, the string pulled out into a perfect triangle that framed the rest of the Earth. "The symbol of the hunter," she explained, and finally, her paw moved up to point at the top point. This one simply showed a mace, the head of which had been singed to look completely black. "Lastly, the symbol of the sage."

"How _old_ is that book?" Ben demanded, staring. Eileen was delicately opening the cover, and turning weathered brown pages with the greatest care.

"As far as I can tell, this was bound about four hundred years ago," she replied. She stopped at one page, and her finger pointed down to the name at the bottom of a small block of text. "However, certain pages are much older than that."

Isaac and Ben both leaned in, and their eyes widened as they read the name. Written in perfect calligraphy was the name _Lini the Mogknight I_.

"The _original_ Lini the Mogknight, kupo?" Isaac whispered, shaking his head slowly.

"Yes. Most of these pages are made up of as many magical protection spells as they are paper. So how does it feel looking at the words of you forebear?"

Isaac didn't reply; he was too busy staring at the tome.

It was Ben who asked the question that the moogle was thinking. "Does it say anything about the Prophecy of Five Bloods?"

Eileen seemed to think for a few moments, and then ran her finger along the thick pile of papers. She picked out a page, and turned the book to that point.

"Most of the major Ultimates have written in this book," she muttered, glancing down at the page carefully. "One of the stronger viera Ultimates was Lady Emily. She wasn't much of an assassin; apparently she only learned the art so that she could master Ultima. However, her main abilities were in summoning."

"A summoner assassin?" Ben muttered, raising an eyebrow. "How does that work?"

"Imagine somebody who could not only kill somebody without batting an eyelid, and who could not only discharge a blast of Ultima, but who was also in constant commune with the gods." Eileen shrugged, still not looking up from her page. "She was incredible, by all reports."

"Why are you looking her up, kupo?"

"Well, due to both her connection with the gods and her own incredible intelligence, she was a well-known prophet. She made many predictions, some of them divine, many not. If there's a prophecy concerning the Ultimates, the odds are good that it's in here."

She turned the page, and began scanning the next one as Ben asked another question.

"Where did you find this book?"

For the first time, Eileen's hand stopped moving, almost jarring to a stop on the page. She hesitated for a moment, then said softly, "I found it in Quin's old office after… after Sprohm."

Ben bit his lip, and Isaac visibly flinched as the two of them watched their friend. After a moment, she cleared her throat, still without looking at the other two, and then continued scanning the page.

Isaac and Ben waited in silence for several minutes. After their last question, both recognized that Eileen needed space. Isaac returned to looking up at the moon, while Ben turned his gaze over, off the side of the ship to watch the clouds roll by.

"I think I found it," Eileen announced. The other two sat up, looking over to her. Her eyes were clearly running along the sentences, reading the words as quickly as possible. As she went on, the expression on her face went from one of concentration, to shock, and finally into horror. As she finished, she looked up at the other two, and swallowed. "Both of you have to promise me that this doesn't leave the three of us."

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded, Ben's face mirroring his feelings. "What are you tal—"

"Promise me!" she snapped, glaring at both. "Nobody, particularly nobody in Nutsy, will ever hear these words. Understood?"

After a moment's hesitation, both of them nodded. Eileen kept watching the pair for a moment, almost as though she were sizing them up, then took in a shuddering breath.

"Alright, this isn't a prophecy, per se," Eileen began, looking down at the page. "It's one of Lady Emily's theories. Essentially, the idea is that when the totema Ultima gave a fraction of its power to the five races of the world, what it really did was entrust a portion of the Worldthread of the Nu Mou's energy within them. The power would pass down by familiarity; the Five Ancient Weapons of the Races could help in the transfer of this energy from one host to another. However, the weapons could only hold enough energy within them to send it to one person at a time.

"That's how the 'five in every generation' idea came about. That isn't a set number; sometimes there are only four or three in a generation. The power rests in the weapon until it is passed along to another person who is strong enough to wield it. By that point, the Ultima energy in the weilder of the weapon will have grown stable enough that it can be passed partially into the weapon with enough left over the wielder to still use the attack.

"Emily's theory was that at that point, once the subject had amassed enough Ultima energy to use it without the weapon's aid, they have become, in a sense, one with Ultima. Part of the Totema resides within them.

"Using this line of thinking, giving Ultima to the races wasn't just an act of mercy on Ultima's part; it was an extra safeguard. If this reasoning is correct, that would mean that, well…"

She hesitated. For a moment it seemed like she wouldn't continue.

Then, Isaac spoke. "That would mean that in order to actually destroy all of the Worldthreads, one would have to destroy all of the Ultimates, kupo."

"Not exactly," Eileen replied. "From what Lady Emily thinks, that wouldn't make sense. Ultimates are still mortal; hundreds of them have died over history. If it were as simple as that, then Ultima never would have gone through with the trouble of bestowing the power in the first place. Instead, she says that the only manner in which the power that Ultima invested in the Ultimates could be broken is if the lifeblood of five Ultimates, one from each race, stained the same earth."

"Then why is Isaac so important?" Ben demanded. "Why not you or Maxwell? How is it that he's—"

"Isaac is the only person alive who has mastered Ultima," Eileen interrupted, and suddenly Ben's eyes widened as realization dawned on him. She glanced over at Isaac, and said, "On top of that, if you look at most major battles in which Ultimates have died, it tends to be the mogknights that survive. The mogknights tend to be the best at defending themselves."

"That still doesn't mean so much as to have an agent devoted _entirely_ to his extermination," Ben pointed out. "I mean, there can't be _that_ many places with the blood of a viera, a bangaa, a human, and a nu mou Ultimate spilled on the ground."

"Sprohm," Isaac said, his voice dull. The other two glanced over at him. His eyes were on them, but they seemed to be looking beyond; almost as though they were focused on something far away. "Jocelyn, Cheney, Pallanza, and Quin all died in Sprohm, kupo. Only Lini survived. That's why they set us up at the Fifth Totema. They wanted to kill Lini in the rip so that she couldn't accidentally trigger the Worldthread. And why they've got all of that protection around Sprohm that Babus discovered now. They want to make sure that I don't go there and…"

He stopped, his voice catching in his throat. Both Eileen and Ben were staring at him, their expressions completely unreadable. The only noise on the deck was the occasional creaking of the ship.

"How…" Ben stopped, glancing at Isaac again. The moogle was breathing deeply through his nose, his eyes shut. "How accurate are Lady Emily's theories, on average."

"Best figures?" Eileen muttered, also watching Isaac. "Ninety five percent."

The three didn't move again until a half-an-hour later, when Rolf came up the stairs to check on the ship. As soon as they heard his footsteps, all three got to their feet, and Eileen put the tome away without a word. They walked by the captain in silence, ignoring his curious look. They didn't bid each other good night or even acknowledge each other at all. Eileen simply went into the room that the females were sharing, while Ben went into the male's room, and Isaac limped into the machine room.

Once there, he closed the door behind him. Fortunately, it seemed that both Foobar and Clay were asleep. As the door clicked shut, he placed his back against it, and slid down to the floor in a balled up sitting position. Through the contact of his back on the door, he could feel the vibrations of the machines all about him. The warm air, the soft hum, the occasional metallic clicking.

He banged his head softly back against the door, the contact seeming to ground him to the place.

This was his home.

This was his home.

This was his home.

Isaac remained in his position a few moments longer, and then let out a long sigh. Somehow, he knew that the familiarity of the engine room would bring him no comfort tonight.

---

A/N: And after eight pages of depressing exposition, guess what? When I conformed this chapter to the norms of the other document I was using, it came out to EXACTLY 1000 PAGES! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Yeah, so, thanks everybody for sticking with me thus far. In case anybody was wondering, there will NOT be 1000 more. At some point, I have to live for a while before I start working on something I can actually publish. Wow, wouldn't that be amazing? _Published_ stories? A fox can dream…

Anyways, I'm sorry if it took me a while to write this chapter; contrary to popular belief, I don't enjoy making my characters' lives miserable. It just seems like that sometimes.

Most times.

All the time.


	92. A Short Respite

"Your ribs should be fine, now," Eugene said, stretching his arms out as he stood back up. "Just try not to put too much stress on them for a few days. I had to do a bit of a rush job."

"Thanks, kupo," Isaac replied. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, and pulled his shirt down so that it concealed the brown fur on his chest. He hopped down from the bed he had been laying on, and performed a few experimental stretches. "Feels as good as new."

"Good. Just make sure it stays that way," the White mage ordered. He paused for a moment to yawn, then said, "I have to go see if I can help Guinness out with cleansing any of that corruption out of Montblanc." He got up, and looked like he was about to leave the room, when he hesitated for a moment. He glanced over his shoulder at Isaac, and asked, "Are you feeling alright?"

"Kupopo?"

"You seem…" the nu mou searched for a word. "Distant."

Isaac looked surprised for a moment, eying Eugene carefully. Could he be trusted? However, he recalled Eileen's words of the night before, and forced himself to shrug. "One of my best friends kicked me off the side of a ship yesterday, kupo. I'm a bit out of it."

Eugene kept watching Isaac, clearly not fully believing the explanation. However, he eventually turned away, and said, "Well, if you need help with anything, you know where to find me."

"Thanks."

Eugene closed the door behind him as he left, and Isaac was left staring at the wall. He shook his head, and began gathering his gear up from the bedside table. As he did, he tried moving his torso as much as possible, testing out the strength of his newly healed ribs.

He didn't feel anything, so he figured that that was a good sign. The occasional twinges and stabs of pain he'd experienced periodically throughout the night hadn't let him sleep that much. Of course, his thoughts had already been doing a good job of depriving him of rest, but still, he hoped he would sleep better now that the pain was gone.

The moogle finished strapping on his last belt, and went out the door, headed for the deck. The captain would probably need him once they started getting close to the dock. The illegal landing tower that he'd used on _the Red Flash_ wasn't the easiest thing to find.

Isaac stepped out onto the deck, and he sucked in a deep breath. There was a bit of a chill in the air; following the scalding summer they'd had, it seemed as though the fall would be cool. Summer had only really ended the week before, and now it was already growing colder.

Isaac crossed the deck, nodding to Grans as he passed her on his way to the helm. Tifone and Rolf were both standing there; Tifone at the wheel, and Rolf surveying the land all about them.

"Isaac," the captain greeted, nodding as the moogle approached. "I see Eugene's done with you?"

"Just finished, kupo," Isaac replied. He glanced around, and asked, "Where are we now, approximately?"

"We should be about thirty kilometres from your dock," Tifone answered.

"Alright, kupo," Isaac whispered, glancing over the edge of the ship at the low treetops below. "Once we get about ten kilometres away, would it be alright if I took the helm? It's a bit hard to find."

"Sure," Rolf nodded, and then grinned. "So, are we about to find the secret hideout of Ivalice's most wanted sky pirate?"

"I prefer unchartered enforcer of the skies," Isaac muttered, "but yes. You're about to see the famed dock of _the Red Flash_."

"Sounds fun," Tifone grinned.

"It's not as great as it seems, kupo. We just scrapped it together from the remnants of some of the ships we destroyed. Nothing special."

"And there'll be food and supplies there?"

"So long as Newman's been doing his job, yes."

"Newman…" Rolf whispered the name, his eyes squinting. "Is that the White Pirate Newman?"

"Yep," Isaac grinned, glancing over. "The best White mage in the skies, kupo. Excluding Eugene, of course."

"You named a White mage as the captain of a group of pirate hunters?"

"You've never met Newman," Isaac replied, shrugging. "That nu mou is a natural leader, kupo. Not to mention, people have a tendency to listen to the person who might be sealing up their scars later."

"Fair enough," Rolf chuckled. He glanced over at Isaac, and simply watched the brown moogle for a few moments.

After the excitement of the day before, he had replaced his black bandanna on his head, once again pulling his ears down against his back. Much of his clothing had been damaged in all of the fighting the day before, so now he simply wore a white muscle shirt, a pair of green pants, and his weapon belts. His only adornment was the black leather glove covering his right paw. He was watching the horizon, his eyes flicking occasionally to watch any movements on the deck. A soft breeze was rustling through his fur, and he swayed gently with its pull.

"Wow," Rolf muttered.

"What?" Isaac asked, glancing back to the human.

"You're a captain," he replied, shrugging.

Isaac snorted, shaking his head. "Not much of one. I abandoned my crew without a word to anyone, kupo. Not a very 'captain' thing to do."

"What, you think this useless guy's never blown us off for a few days?" Tifone asked, glancing over her shoulder for a moment at Rolf.

"Can you blame me?" he snorted. "You lot get to be too much sometimes."

"Kupopo?" Isaac muttered, glancing at the human in surprise.

"Occasionally I need a break from all of them; if you hadn't noticed, this isn't the most reverent ship in the skies."

"I'll say," Tifone grinned. "You wouldn't want us any other way, you old lump."

"You see, Isaac," the human said, pointedly ignoring Tifone's comments, "_this_ is the real reason I wanted you on the crew. At least you would call me 'sir' and 'captain' once in a while."

"He's probably off seeing some secret lover or something," the viera went on. "Of course, I doubt that Eugene would let you get away with that."

"Are you doubting my virtue, now?" Rolf muttered, turning towards Tifone. "Is nothing sacred?"

"Not really."

"Wait, kupo," Isaac said, his eyes widening as he picked out something in what they'd said. The pair turned to look at him, and Isaac eyed the captain. "What did she mean by 'I doubt that Eugene would let you get away with that'?"

There was silence for a second as the other two stared at him. Then, Tifone exploded in a fit of giggles, as Rolf muttered, very red in the face, "Well, ah, how do I say this…?"

"You and Eugene?" Isaac asked, his jaw dropping.

"Well, yeah."

"Is this a recent thing, or…?"

Rolf sighed, and rolled his eyes. "It's pushing fifteen years."

"And is this a big secret, kupo, or am I a bit thicker than I thought?"

"You're _way_ thicker than you thought," Tifone laughed. "I mean, how long were you living with us? Three months?"

"Right, kupo," Isaac muttered, shaking his head slightly. "That actually explains quite a bit, then." He cleared his throat, and then simply asked, "How much longer 'til we switch helmsmen?"

"How about now?" Tifone asked. "You look like you need to do something while dealing with this shocking development."

"Your sarcasm isn't helping the situation, Tifone," Rolf muttered sheepishly, even as Isaac took the helm. He held on tightly with his left paw, and lifted his right arm up so that his elbow was clamped on.

There was silence for several moments as Isaac directed the ship, making occasional adjustments. Eventually, Rolf asked, "Isaac? Are you alright with this?"

Isaac glanced back, surprised, and said hurriedly, "Of course, kupo! It's just a bit of a surprise is all. And, well…" he paused, then cocked his head to the side. "Seriously? The entire time I was living here, and I never noticed?"

"You're an excellent machinist, a respected leader, and a skilled fighter, Isaac," Rolf said, then inclined his head. "However, on these sorts of matters, you're somewhat of an idiot."

"Right, kupo," Isaac muttered, shaking his head as he turned his attention back to the sky.

"On that topic, actually," Rolf muttered, his voice tight, "would you mind if I made a suggestion?"

"Go ahead, kupo."

"For the sake of everybody on this ship and the love of Mateus, talk to Eileen at some point today."

Isaac paused, his muscles instantly tensing all along his back. Then, he whispered, dreading the answer, "How do you mean, kupo?"

The other two were quiet as well for a moment. Then, Tifone threw her hands up in the air, muttered, "He's hopeless," and walked away.

Rolf watched her go for a few seconds, then turned back to Isaac. "You and Eileen are Ultimates, and two of the top leaders of the rebellion. It won't do for the two of you to constantly be dodging each other because you're too afraid to talk about your feelings."

Isaac sighed, then leaned his head back with a groan. "There's too much going on right now, kupo. I mean, I'd love to talk to her, but we're fighting a war. Besides, Lini…" He paused. He took a deep breath, and began again. "It's only been a month since… and I… kupo."

Rolf waited for him to continue. However, when the moogle didn't speak again, the human sighed, and leaned forward over Isaac's shoulder so that he was speaking into his ear.

"That's a terrible excuse, and you know it."

Isaac glanced back, and growled, "Are you saying that Lini's _death_ isn't a reason—"

"To stop living? Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying."

Isaac opened his mouth to reply, but bit back his harsh response before it came out. Rolf continued staring at him, not saying anything more. Eventually, Isaac simply turned his attention pointedly away from Rolf, and instead stared out into the sky again. Rolf shrugged, and stepped back a bit, giving the moogle his space.

The ship sailed on in silence for several more minutes, cutting a clear swath through the early morning clouds. The sun, only just appearing above the horizon, burned in the corner of Isaac's vision, giving him a clear indication of their bearing.

Eventually, the moogle whispered, "We're about there, kupo."

"I'll let the crew know to prepare for a landing," Rolf said, turning away.

Isaac hesitated for a moment, hearing the captain's steps moving further from him. Then, he turned and called out, "There's a lot going on here, kupo!"

"Like what?" Rolf replied, pausing by the stairs.

The moogle stared at the human for a few moments, biting his lip. Finally, he coughed, and said, "I'd die for any of you in a moment. I don't know if I could die for a cause."

"Then let's make sure that you won't have to, alright?" Rolf suggested.

Isaac opened his mouth, and almost told the captain, then and there, all about the Prophecy of Five Bloods, Maxwell's words, and everything. He felt the words straining against the dam in his mind, doing all they could to break free. He could trust the captain. He'd always been able to trust the captain. Besides, none of the crew actually worked for Clan Nutsy; they were just associated with them. It wasn't like they would tell…

The moogle deflated, and muttered, "Right, kupo. Let's do that."

Rolf nodded, and walked down the stairs.

Isaac turned his attention back to the wheel, forcing himself to count out his breaths. He glanced over at his left paw, and was surprised to find it shaking, his grip white-knuckled.

He pulled his paw off of the helm, and shook it out for a few moments. Then, he replaced it, and began bringing the ship down before his paw could tense up again.

---

"I'll try to be back by noon," Cid promised. He was just finishing up with attaching his last heavy plate of armour, and now he stood. It was surprising just how much larger and more intimidating he appeared with the full suit on.

"Just make sure that you've got some strength left over for me and Grans," Ben muttered.

"Will do. Just don't do any stupid while I'm gone."

From the look on the judge's face, the group knew that he was only half joking.

He glanced around at all of them, gave a curt nodded, and disappeared in a flash of light.

Once everybody had finished blinking the blinding light out of their eyes, they disbanded. Isaac began heading towards the long, low building in the middle of the clearing. He looked up, and couldn't help but relax at the sight of _the Fallen Star II_, lying comfortably on a bed of pale blue light. Occasionally, he would see Clay, Foobar, or Tifone walking up or down the plank, carrying large containers of fuels. Most of the food they would need had already been loaded on by Clan Nutsy, leaving nothing but the final few bits of pre-flight checking before the group could get moving again.

Isaac pushed open the ramshackle door to the dock, and stepped into the building. As he walked, occasional shafts of light, peaking through holes in the roof, would brush over him. He passed through a large chamber, normally used as a lounge when the crew was docked, and then pushed open another door.

He paused as he stood in the doorway, gazing around at his old chambers. Of course, he hadn't spent too much there. Most of his days had been spent up in the air. All around, during the two years he'd been a captain, he could only think of about twenty occasions when he had spent the night there. The number had been much higher before he was captain, but, well…

He sighed, and thanked Famfrit that none of Clan Nutsy had decided to explore the dock. He was alone in the building.

Taking comfort in that fact, the moogle actually stepped into the room, glancing over at the small desk in the corner. He stepped over, and grinned when he saw that the surface was perfectly clean and spotless. Yes, Newman had definitely been using the room. If Isaac recalled, the room had been a complete mess when he'd left it; littered with machine parts and diagrams. The nu mou had always criticized him for this fact, but to no end.

Curiously, Isaac stepped over to the desk, and glanced at the bottom side drawer. Something about it seemed… off. It didn't look like it was shut quite right. Shrugging, the moogle reached forward, and tugged it open.

As soon as he did, a wide smile crossed his face, and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Shoved into the drawer was a mess of tools and machine parts, all of them stained black with soot and long-since dried oil. At the bottom was a pile of papers, most of them bearing a few stains of their own.

Isaac looked down at the pile for a while, thinking. Then, his paw touched the hilt of the Avuir Blue. His nimble fingers ran all along worked silver, taking in each detail. Then, it moved over to hold the Avuir Red's hilt, quickly surmising that they were absolutely identical.

He thought about it. He had a few good hours before Cid would get back, and they'd have to leave. It _would_ be nice to be able to shoot while holding the twin blades. And, not to mention, he didn't have anything else to do.

He smirked, and pulled the two weapons out, laying them on the floor. He reached into the drawer, and began pulling out tools, hoping Newman wouldn't mind the mess.

---

Eileen raised her hand, curling her fingers into a fist and holding them before the door. Her hand didn't move forward to knock, though; it just hung there, waiting for her brain to give it the command.

The nu mou's breathing was heavy, puffing rhythmically in and out through her nose. It was taking everything she had to not break down into terrified ball on the floor.

Her eyes shut for a moment, and she forced herself to slow her breathing, trying to regain control of herself. Then, before she could hesitate any further, she brought her hand forward and rapped sharply on the door.

There was a moment of silence. Then, Isaac's voice, sounding muffled through the door, said, "Come in, kupo."

Eileen pushed the door open, not allowing herself the time to back out. She stepped in, and before she even looked around, said, "We have to talk."

Isaac looked up sharply at that comment, and, for the first time since entering the room, Eileen was given an opportunity to look at him. The two stared at each other for a few moments.

Then, Eileen demanded, "What in the name of Ultima are you doing?"

Isaac raised his eyebrows slightly, then glanced down at the black oil marks covering his paws. There was a small ring of gun pieces and tools littered all about him, and a paper, covered in scratched out diagrams.

"Uh…" the moogle muttered, shrugging a bit. "I'm inventing."

"Inventing?"

"Yep," Isaac replied. He reached down, and lifted up an odd-looking contraption. It was long, with a handle at the base, the bottom half of which was empty and hollowed out, with small clips attached to it. The length of it looked just like the barrels of one of Isaac's guns, but with odd clamps jutting up from it at regular intervals.

Eileen stared at it, trying to make out what it was supposed to be. Finally, she sighed, and said, "What is it?"

"A gunblade attachment for the Avuirs," Isaac explained. When she gave him a curious glance, Isaac reached the contraption forward, sliding it over the Avuir Blue on the floor. He moved it around a bit, clearly trying to position it, and then slid the hilt of the Avuir Blue into the gunblade's handle. His thumb flicked forward, hitting a small latch on the side of the creation. All of the clamps along the length of the gunblade closed tightly, joining it securely to the blue weapon.

Isaac grinned, and twirled his creation over his wrist once, catching it as it came around in a stabbing position. He slid it easily into one of the sheaths at his side, and glanced at Eileen.

"Gunblade."

Eileen stared at the weapon, its modified hilt sticking out from just above his hip. "When did you make that?"

"Just now, kupo."

"Just now? As in, since we landed here three hours ago?"

"Kupo."

Eileen kept staring at him a few moments more, then shook her head, almost laughing as she said, "You're absolutely ridiculous, you know that?"

"When you've had to build and repair as many of these as I have, kupo, you get fast at it. It's nothing big."

Eileen nodded, and Isaac started picking up the scattered bits of machinery. He shoved all of them unceremoniously into the bottom drawer of a desk in the corner as Eileen watched.

Both of them were keenly aware of Eileen biting softly at her lip, and how stiff Isaac's movements were. Occasionally, one would glance at the other, almost begging them to speak first, but neither one took the bait.

Isaac placed the last screwdriver into the drawer and, with some difficulty, managed to push it shut. As soon as he did, he leaned up against the desk, not facing Eileen. He cleared his throat, and said, "You, uh, said we, uh, needed to talk, kupo?"

"Yeah," Eileen nodded, her throat dry.

Once again, they fell into silence, Isaac not yet turning to face her. Several times, Eileen tried to speak, but each time a lump would rise up at the back of her mouth, preventing.

"Look, kupo," Isaac whispered, his shoulders growing suddenly stiffer. "Back in Bervenia, I… I shouldn't have said what I said, kupo. It wasn't appropriate. I mean, my head's still all messed up about Lini, kupo, and… I'm sorry."

"No, no," Eileen said quickly, finding her voice. "You don't have to apologize. I understand, and I… well…" She paused to breathe, trying to organize what she would say in her head. "After Quin, I don't know if I'm ready… I mean, it's been three years, and I still wake up sometimes and…" She coughed, turning her head so that she only had to look at Isaac from the corner of her eyes. For some reason, she was having a hard time even facing his back.

"Right," Isaac nodded, his voice sounding tight. "Besides, we're in the middle of a war right now, kupo. It isn't the right time to do anything like… that…"

"Of course, you're right."

"Yeah."

"…Yeah."

Finally, Isaac turned around, and Eileen turned her head so that she was actually looking full on at him.

Isaac's eyes seemed somewhat puffy, and Eileen could clearly a few traces of red in them. Eileen's head was still somewhat lowered, and it looked like her entire face was pleading with him.

The two stood, and stared at each other for a long time after that. Both were aware that their chests were rising and falling heavily, their breath coming out haggard.

Suddenly, they each heard the pounding of feet along the wooden flooring. A few seconds later, the door, which Eileen had shut, burst open, and Foobar leaned in. "Isaac, there's—oh," he said, seeing Eileen for the first time. He glanced from one to the other a few times quickly, before stuttering, "Uh, sorry, kupo, I shouldn't have interrupted. I'll, uh…"

"It's alright, Foobar," Isaac said, and both he and Eileen shook themselves from their reveries. The moogle picked the Avuir Red up from the ground, and sheathed it beside its twin. "What's going on, kupo?"

"Another ship is approaching," Foobar said, glancing uncomfortably at Isaac. "Marche and Rolf want you to find out if it's an enemy or not."

"Right, let's go," Isaac said, stepping towards the door. Once he reached it, he glanced back to Eileen, and said, quickly, "I'm glad we had this talk, kupo."

"So am I," Eileen replied, rushing through her words just as fast.

Isaac nodded, then turned away and followed Foobar out of the room.

---

When Isaac and Foobar stepped out of the dock, they were greeted by the sight of most of the members of their party, all holding weapons and preparing spells. Foobar led Isaac straight to Rolf and Marche, who were standing at the top of a small grassy hill.

Marche, leaning heavily on a crutch, turned and nodded to Isaac as the moogles approached. Even though he clearly wasn't strong enough to hold it yet, the human's knightsword was still buckled to his back.

"When was the ship spotted, kupo?" Isaac asked with no preamble. He was already scanning the skies, trying to catch sight of the mysterious airship.

"Eugene felt its presence about a minute ago," Rolf explained, then nodded towards the East. "Coming from that direction."

"Right." Isaac exhaled slowly, then he pulled out the Materia Blade. He gave the weapon a slight twirl, and then pointed it straight up.

"What are you doing?" Marche asked.

"Trying to avert a needless battle," the moogle replied. He took a deep breath, and then squeezed the trigger three times.

Flames erupted from the gunblade's barrel as the fireshots launched into the sky. They went up quite a distance, maybe sixty metres, before the flames fizzled out of existence.

"There, kupo," Isaac muttered, lowering his weapon.

"What now?"

"We wait until they're in sight, and see if they send the signal back. If they do, it's _the Red Flash_, kupo. If they don't, we should probably get ready to run."

And, so, the group waited. Gradually, they became aware of a soft humming in the air. All those who were familiar with airships recognized it as the sound of the propellers.

The noise grew progressively louder, until suddenly, they could all see the hull of a ship pulling out above the tree line. A soft roaring accompanied its approach.

All around, grips tightened on weapons, and more than a few people glanced around for escape routes just in case. Isaac, standing slightly ahead of the others, raised his blade slowly. It was still too far for him to tell whether it was his ship or not; if it was, they were certainly taking their time with the responding signal. Briefly, he felt inside himself for that well of energy he used to summon Ultima. If he absolutely had to, a blast of Ultima sent into a bullet would probably cripple the ship and give them a chance of escape. He might just…

Suddenly, a plume of red flame launched up into the sky from the ship, cutting a line across the clouds. Isaac visibly relaxed as the blast went off three times, and began sheathing his blade. "We're good, kupo,"

The next twenty minutes were extremely confusing. The crew of _the Fallen Star II_ set about getting their ship into the air so that _the Red Flash_ could get to landing. Isaac helped to direct the operations from the ground while Clan Nutsy, Babus, Ben, and Eileen watched on. The crews of the two ships seemed to work with flawless accuracy around each other, and no sooner had _the Fallen Star II_ lifted up than the pirate-hunting vessel had slid gracefully into its position on bed of light blue magic.

Soon thereafter, a gangplank was lowered down from the ship. Isaac and Marche approached its base, with Eileen, Ben, Babus, and Caitlin standing close behind.

Eventually, a nu mou, dressed in modified white robes, stepped up onto the gangplank, and began making his way down. Several others followed him, all of them with a rough, yet somehow relaxed look about them. Most of them wore their weapons clearly displayed, and more than one was marked with scars.

Finally, the White mage stopped just in front of Isaac, the rest of the crew waiting behind him.

"Fancy meeting you here, sir," the nu mou said, the inflection of his deep voice giving the impression that it wasn't a surprise at all.

"Newman, kupo," Isaac said, giving a slight nod. "I see you haven't sunk my ship yet."

"Are you joking? I only just managed to finish cleaning out your quarters," the mage smiled. He looked around at the other members of the group that were assembled, sizing them up silently. "So, this is the lot you abandoned us for?"

Isaac glanced back guiltily at that statement, and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Uh, yeah, kupo… I'm sorry about that. I have certain responsibilities that need attending, kupo, and—"

"Captain," said a voice from behind Newman. Both Isaac and Newman glanced back instinctually at the title, seeing the viera standing there with a greatbow strapped to her back. Noting the pair's confusion, she said, "Sorry. _Former_ captain. None of us are offended by your actions. After Lini the Mogknight showed up on the ship, we knew it wouldn't be long before you left."

"Right, kupo," Isaac muttered, his face falling slightly at the mention of the mogknight. Had it really been just a month ago that Lini had dragged him out of the skies to join in with all this madness again? So much had happened since then. "Well, we'll get out of your way soon enough, kupo. I'm sorry; we were in a dire situation, and needed somewhere to refuel before continuing. There aren't really any other ports in Ivalice that are welcoming of a group of outlaws."

"You built this dock," Newman shrugged. "It's yours to use as you need it. And remember, when you've finished dealing with your personal responsibilities, there's always a place for you in the crew. I mean, I still haven't chosen a first mate…"

Isaac couldn't help but smile at that. "Right, kupo. I'll remember that. Ah, yes, and this is Marche Radiuju…"

He proceeded to introduce everybody as best as he could. Many of the members of his former crew were greatly surprised by Marche's presence, and even more so Babus. There was much hand-shaking and exchanges of tales, and eventually, the members of the former crew began either filtering into the dock, or breaking off to speak with members of Clan Nutsy.

About an hour after the ship had initially been sighted, Isaac, Eileen, and Ben were sitting on the gangplank, relaxing as the groups mingled and set about business on the ship. If Ben noticed the other two pointedly not looking at each other, he didn't say it.

"It seems like your crew is a very relaxed bunch," the Blue mage said, watching a tall bangaa who was comparing scars with Caitlin.

"That's just right now, kupo," Isaac clarified, his eyes skimming over the large group to take in all of his former crewmembers. They seemed happy. They were eating well, none of them had any injuries beyond a few cuts or bruises, and it didn't look like any of them were dissatisfied or tense. "Once they're up in the sky, and a pirate ship's coming at them, they transform into something completely different."

"Captain Isaac?"

All three of them turned upon hearing the name, coming from the top of the gangplank. Standing there, a hesitant look on her face, was a moogle with bright white fur, and a short blade strapped to her side. Ben and Eileen were surprised at the sight of her; she couldn't have been more than fourteen years old.

"Cecilia," Isaac said, and the small grin that had been on his face spread into a full-blown smile. "You've survived your time with Newman, then?"

"So far, sir," the moogle said, almost stuttering. She stepped forward hesitantly, and then approached as Isaac beckoned her down.

Once she finally reached them, Isaac turned and pointed to his friends. "I'd like you to meet Eileen and Ben. Eileen, Ben, this is Cecilia Jones, kupo, musician and mogknight savant."

Isaac noticed Eileen's head jerk up a bit as she heard the girl's name, but the nu mou kept quiet as Ben greeted the mogknight.

"So Isaac's been teaching you to use a blade, then?" the Blue mage was asking.

"Yes, kupo," she nodded. "I had never held a blade before I started living on the ship."

"I can't expect that you've improved much, what with this moogle as your teacher," Ben said, sending his glowing eyes to glance at Isaac. The mogknight couldn't quite tell if the mage was joking or not, so he just shrugged at the comment.

Cecilia seemed confused by the remark for a moment, and glanced from the mage to the mogknight back and forth several times. Then, she simply said, "I have to help with loading the food onto the ship, kupo." She glanced over at Isaac, biting her lip, then said, "I'm happy that you're safe, sir."

Before Isaac could respond, she turned, and walked quickly away. She didn't stop until she reached the dock, and ducked through the door and out of sight.

The three sat in silence for a couple moments after that. Finally, Ben muttered, "That timid thing actually _knows_ how to hold a blade?"

"She might not seem it, kupo, but that girl knows how to fight." Isaac leaned back on the gangplank, glancing at the clouds. "Most people learn it the hard way."

"Isaac," Eileen said, and her tone instantly made the moogle's ears prick up slightly. "Her name… Cecilia Jones. Does she have any relation to July Jones?"

Isaac paused before answering that one. He mulled his words over for a few moments, and then just figured that the truth would be the best option. "Yes, kupo. July Jones is her elder sister. I don't think I ever told any of you, but Lini and I travelled with July while we were recovering the twin blades. About half a year after I became captain, she managed to track me down in Baguba port, and asked me to take Cecilia with me, kupo. She wouldn't explain why; she just begged me to protect her. Why?" Isaac glanced over to Eileen, concern growing in his voice. "Do you know what happened to July?"

"Yes." Eileen sighed. "The news isn't good."

"Tell me, kupo."

"July was one of the ones that opposed the palace's occupation of Cadoan the hardest. Of course, with the palace being so obsessed with preventing any information from getting out, they imposed heavy artistic limitations. To rebel, July started organizing and performing underground concerts, where they would play their own, original music. There are even rumours that she organised a few small operations to hinder the palace.

"Then, one day, she disappeared. A note was left on her door, saying that she had been arrested and sent to the prison. And, as happens whenever anybody gets sent there," Eileen shrugged, exhaling slightly, "she hasn't been heard from since."

Ben, who had been listening with some interest the entire time, nodded slowly. "She must have known that the palace was onto her. So, she sent her sister to the only place that she'd be guaranteed to be beyond the palace's reach."

"With me, kupo," Isaac muttered, shaking his head. "And now I'm dragging the crew into this mess again."

"Don't talk like that," Ben muttered. Isaac glanced over at him, and the mage continued. "You didn't drag anybody into this. You didn't choose for a war to begin. If anybody's to blame, it would be either Mewt or Marche. Whether it was because of your or not, they would have been pulled into this eventually."

"You've kept them safe for two years, Isaac," Eileen agreed, doing her best to meet Isaac's eyes. "That's more than what just about anybody can say."

"Right," Isaac said, nodding slowly. It was clear that he didn't really agree with what they said, but they wisely let it slide. They remained silent for a few more moments, and Isaac's eyes once again took to wandering the clearing.

The trio's quiet contemplations were abruptly interrupted, however, when there was a great flash in the middle of the clearing. Everybody shielded their eyes, and several members of Isaac's crew, not knowing what was going on, cried out.

Soon, everybody's vision cleared, and they could make out Cid standing in the centre of the clearing. His chest was rising and falling somewhat quickly, and nobody missed the trickle of sweat running down his face. However, beyond that, he appeared in good health.

Upon seeing him, the three sitting on the gangplank hopped off, and approached him. Isaac's crew still looked somewhat shell-shocked, but their alarm dimmed somewhat when their former captain approached the judge so casually.

"How was it?" Eileen asked as they approached.

"Long," Cid mumbled, shaking his head. "Is there any water here?"

At a quick order from Isaac, a bangaa who was standing nearby rushed off to get some water for the exhausted judge. Meanwhile, Marche and Guinness had approached, and quickly took stock of the situation.

"Did you reach all of them?"

"Yes," Cid panted, nodding quickly. "Luck is with us; the palace hasn't launched any attacks yet. All of your bases are making for Tubola, and the Red Dragons should be leaving within the hour."

"And the mages?" Eileen asked, her voice showing her anxiety.

"They're safe," Cid assured her. "I spoke with an excitable young nu mou named Adrian at the Alchemists' Guild, and he got in touch with all of the leaders of the underground societies for me. They'll meet up and leave tonight."

Eileen nodded slowly, seeming calmed by this. The bangaa that Isaac had sent off returned with a bucket of water. Cid took great gulps from it, nodding his thanks.

"Sorry to sound demanding," Ben said, playing impatiently with his long red hair, "but when do you think you can go again? Grans and I are ready whenever you are, and—"

"As soon as I'm done this drink," Cid replied, pausing from the bucket to look Ben in the eye. "I promise I won't keep you from your people longer than I must."

Ben simply nodded at this, even as Grans began approaching. The old nu mou had her bullwhip coiled around her shoulder, just in case she should need it. She had removed the haversack she'd carried for most of their journey thus far, in the intelligent assumption she would need to be unhindered in her movement for this mission.

"Are we ready, then?" she asked, glancing first to Ben and then to the judgemaster.

In response, Cid held up one hand as he used the other to tip back the bucket. His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped down the last remains of the liquid, and he let out a satisfied sigh as he pulled the bucket away from his lips.

"We're ready," the judgemaster said. He held out both of his hands.

Grans quickly took one, and Ben reached forward to take the other. He hesitated for a moment, then glanced over his shoulder at Eileen and Isaac.

"See you in a few days."

His hand closed around Cid's, and the judgemaster closed his eyes, whispering something beneath his breath.

Nothing happened.

There was silence as the assembled group all looked at the judgemaster for a moment, confused. From the look on his face, he was equally puzzled. He opened his eyes again, and stared at his hands, clasped around Grans and Ben's.

After a moment of staring, he shrugged, and tried again. As before, he whispered the words, and a look of concentration crossed his features, but that was all.

Ben glanced at the judgemaster sharply, and asked, "Is it too much? One of us could stay behind."

"No, that's not it…" Cid whispered, his face showing clear confusion. "I have more than enough energy to teleport right now. Besides, if that was the problem, I would have just collapsed; _something_ would have happened. This…"

"Well what could cause this?" Ben demanded. He had released the man's hand, and he was glaring at him now. "Has this ever happened before?"

"No; I've never felt anything like it. It's as though something's blocking the path between my energy and the spell diagram in my head. I… I don't understand."

By this time, a few of the members of Isaac's crew and Clan Nutsy had gathered together to watch. There was a good deal of confusion; Isaac's group, wondering who this strange judge was, and Clan Nutsy, wondering what was blocking Cid's abilities.

Finally, Babus pushed through the small crowd, and glanced at Cid. "What's going on?"

"I can't do it," he muttered. "I can't teleport."

Babus's eyes widened at that statement, and he quickly ordered, "Try teleporting to right over there."

The nu mou pointed to a hill a few metres away. Cid shrugged, closed his eyes, and whispered.

There were two flashes, each occurring simultaneously. Once everybody's vision had cleared, they saw that Cid had disappeared. As one, everybody turned to see Cid standing on the hill, Babus's finger still pointing at him.

As Babus saw this, his eyes widened even more, and he rushed over to the Judgemaster. Even as he was running he was calling out, "Where precisely were you trying to teleport to?"

"A kilometre outside of the forest boundaries," Cid replied. He regarded Babus with apprehension, and asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Babus paused to think for several seconds. Everybody was silent as they watched him, whispering beneath his breath as though he was calculating a particularly difficult sum.

Finally, he whispered, "Ultima."

"What?" Ben demanded, approaching the nu mou. "What is going on?"

Babus turned to the mage, and shook his head slowly. "By now, you all must have realized that the Queen has some power over judges, yes?" As the members of Clan Nutsy all nodded, he went on, "It is greater than you think. Several years ago, shortly after the Battle of Muscadet, the Queen developed a fallback strategy in the case of an emergency. I had misgivings about it at the time, and I voiced them; the Queen assured me that she wouldn't put her strategy into effect unless it was an extreme situation.

"Essentially, the plan was this: the Queen would use what power she has to hold any and all judges away from a large area. Essentially, it's a temporary jagd. Then, a highly trained and prepared crack force would be sent into the area to 'flush out' the problem."

The clearing was dead quiet for several long seconds after Babus finished. Finally, Ben managed to whisper, "You're saying…?"

"I'm saying that the Queen plans to kill everybody in that forest," Babus said, forcing himself to meet the Blue mage's eyes, "and she's expending a great amount of energy to do it."

Ben stared at the nu mou, dumbfounded. He didn't move or react, even as Eileen began asking questions.

"Is there any way of knowing whether the attack has started?"

"No—according to the Queen, she can sustain the block on judges for up to a day if she had to."

"But why would the Queen single out New Cyril? Surely one of Nutsy's bases, or even the Red Dragons would be a better target! What does she have to gain from—?"

"It was Owen that I got to show all of you around," Ben said suddenly, glancing first at Isaac, and then back at Eileen, "wasn't it?"

"I think so, kupo," Isaac stuttered, trying to recall. Owen was the human that had first met Ben at the entrance to New Cyril… yes… he had shown them all around the camp. "Why does it matter?"

"Because he's the one they're going after. Max must have recognized his name, and reported it to the Queen," Ben stated, and suddenly, his face became hard again as he turned to Isaac. "How long of a flight is it from here to Koringwood?"

"Uh, maybe an hour, kupo? But what does Owen have to do wi—"

"We need to move, _now_!" Ben ordered, glancing around at the assembled group.

"Ben, I can't allow you to do this."

A deathly hush fell upon the group as the words left Marche's lips. Ben had frozen as he heard it, and now he turned very slowly to face the paladin.

"What?" he growled, and nobody missed the hint of red fur coming to his face.

"I can't allow you to drag my clan into this," Marche said simply, not backing down. "As much as I hate to say it, this is a personal matter. I won't jeopardize my clan members' lives on a—"

"_I'm_ dragging _you_ into this?" Ben yelled, throwing his arms out wide. The blue light in his eyes was intensifying, and his voice seemed to have become slightly lower and more gravelly. "You need to check your facts. It was _your_ clan that came to all of _us_ for help! Because of _your_ clan, Maxwell, and now the palace with him, know the location of New Cyril! Don't try to ignore your responsibility in this, Marche; you've as much to do with it as anybody else."

Marche seemed stricken for a moment at these comments. He searched for a suitable reply for several moments, before finally coughing, and saying instead, "That doesn't change the fact that I won't risk this. I have to fight a war, and part of that is knowing how to pick battles. I won't sacrifice any of my friends when there's absolutely nothing to gain."

Ben glared at him for several moments, disbelief clear on his face. Finally, he shook his head slowly, and muttered, "Is that what it comes down to, then? Whether or not you have anything to gain from the situation? Thousands of innocent lives aren't a good enough reason for you?" Ben paused, waiting to see if Marche would reply. When he was met with silence, the mage spat at Marche's feet, and said, "Fine then. I'll give you an incentive to help. The palace is attacking New Cyril to kill Owen, because they don't want him falling into _your_ hands."

Marche watched Ben for a few moments after this declaration, clearly attempting to read him. Finally, he asked, "Who is this Owen?"

"Not 'who is he?'" Ben said, nodding slowly. He had Marche now, and he knew it. "It's more a matter of 'what does he know?' And if it's enough for the palace to go to such lengths to kill him, then I'd think you would want to know."

Marche glared for several moments more. The two humans were having a power struggle, and both of them were clearly aware of it. Isaac and Eileen had sidled slowly over until they stood behind their friend, and several members of Clan Nutsy looked uncomfortable at having to watch this spectacle.

Finally, Marche muttered, "What do you want me to do?"

"All I want is for you to get me there, and help me get as many of them out as possible. If the battle is already joined, the watch and I can hold them off while you escape with Owen and those who can't fight. That's all."

Again, there was silence within the entire assembled group for a painfully long time after that. More than a few hands had gone to the handles of weapons during the discussion, and the tension was still just as thick in the air.

Then, a voice said, "You have our support."

Everybody turned, surprised, to see the nu mou Newman standing just on the edge of the circle. He was leaning casually on a staff as he watched the proceedings. At once, Isaac turned to him.

"This isn't your fight, kupo; it's ours. You don't have to—"

"Isaac," Newman replied, glancing over at the moogle coolly. "You are no longer the captain of this crew. Your decisions mean nothing. More than one of us have been affected in some way or another by this war; it's time that we do our part."

Isaac looked as though he was about to let fly another argument, but he managed to bite it back. Finally, he simply nodded, and all eyes turned back to Marche.

The paladin was still deep in thought, not really looking at anybody. Finally, he whispered, "So be it."

Ben nodded slowly, and everybody understood just how heavy a meaning his words carried as he said, "Then we fly for New Cyril."

---

A/N: Okay, I'm really sorry. This chapter took _way_ longer than it reasonably should have. I don't even know why; I guess a combination of factors. Somehow, this chapter ended up being one of my longest, _ever_. It doesn't measure up with _Biskmatar_ or the _The Sprohm Incident_ chapters, but it's still dang long. Either way, I will also say this: don't expect another chapter before January. I know, you're probably thinking, "What the heck are you talking about, Icey? You're a fox in winter! Don't you guys just hibernate or something?"

Well, to answer your question, firstly, I am an arctic fox, and thus winter means extremely little to me. Secondly, foxes don't hibernate; even the red fox has to continue hunting and gathering, because their frames can't sustain enough bulk to last an entire winter. Of course, after the first snowfall, they have to remain bunkered down for a few days for other species, such as the snowshoe hare or the lynx to pack down paths in the snow. However, afterwards, they're just as busy and have to get back to work.

Most importantly, however, it's the beautiful exam season. For the next few weeks, I am going to be a slave to math. After that, I'm going home for a few weeks, and I don't intend to spend a single night sitting alone writing. So, those are my reasons. I apologize for any inconvenience or unnecessary amounts of lip in my tone. In case I don't get a chance to update between now and then, Merry Christmas.


	93. By the End of Today

"How much longer until we reach the forest?" Ben demanded. The Blue mage was standing at the prow of the ship, almost leaning forward in his anxiety. He'd been standing there since the group had set off, barely tearing his gaze away from the horizon to speak.

"It's probably twenty minutes away," Rolf replied, a hint of annoyance in his voice. Isaac, who was busy tuning his guns, glanced up at the captain's voice. He didn't know if he'd ever heard even that much anger from the man. He was always cool and collected, never letting anything catch him off-guard.

However, the moogle had to admit, Ben was earning it. More than a few members of the crew would shoot the mage an annoyed look whenever he asked how much further, how much longer, how many more kilometres until they reached the forest?

Isaac gave a sigh, and replaced the two gunblades he carried with him and the one pistol he'd borrowed from Clay into their sheaths and holsters. He got up, and began approaching the Blue mage. If he didn't divert the mage's attention, the others were probably going to kill him soon. Heck, Isaac might even join in; the impatient questions were beginning wear him thin, as well.

Isaac leaned up against the banister, a few feet back from Ben. The human probably hadn't even noticed him yet; he was too busy waiting for a glimpse of the woods.

"So," Isaac muttered, bending himself backwards over the rail so that he could crack his back. "Do you mind telling me what's so special about Owen, kupo?"

Ben glanced over at him, the blue light of his eyes narrowing for a moment as they settled on the moogle. He hesitated a bit, then asked, "You know your situation with Cecilia?"

"Yeah, kupo," Isaac muttered, his gaze moving to the other ship flying alongside them. "I'm responsible for her, kupo. I owe it to her sister."

"My situation with Owen is similar," Ben explained, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned forward on the rails. "You were with me when I fought in the Blue mage's tournament; do you remember a man named Travis?"

"Travis…" Isaac muttered, trying to remember. It sounded familiar… "Wasn't he the mage you fought in the quarter finals?"

"Exactly. He was living in Cyril during the attack."

Isaac nodded slowly, then glanced up sharply, staring at Ben. "Wait, is Travis Owen's father?"

"You guessed it," Ben said, glancing over at the moogle. "I found it out not long after I took him in."

"So Travis is the one who managed to buy Owen enough time to escape being captured, kupo?"

"Not exactly…"

"But Owen told us that that was what happened; his father helped him escape the raids."

"That was a lie," Ben said simply, shrugging. "We figured it would be safer if we kept the truth between the two of us."

"But if that's true…" Isaac whispered, and suddenly, his eyes widened dramatically. "Owen was arrested."

"Yes."

"And he managed to escape, kupo?"

"Yes."

"So Owen…" Isaac stopped, his brain going into overdrive as he considered it. "Owen knows where the prison is…"

"Right," Ben nodded, stretching his back out. He glanced over to Isaac, and said, "Do you understand why it's so important, now?"

Isaac nodded, thinking about the possibilities. With Owen on their side, it would be possible to go in and attack the prison directly, removing one of the palace's most powerful resources. On top of that, most of the prisoners there would be former clanners or rebels, not only motivated to fight, but knowing how to do so as well. It was an army, just waiting to be broken out.

"Once we reach the forest," Ben muttered, turning to stare at the horizon again, "I want you, Eileen, and Clan Nutsy to come with me. Grans and I will organise our militia to cover your backs, and the rest of you can lead out those who can't fight with Owen. Eileen can lead them to Tubola while you cover them in the airships. Got it?"

"Kupo," Isaac nodded. He hesitated, then asked, "What about you and the rest of the milita?"

Ben was silent for a few seconds after that. That short expanse of time, more than anything, told Isaac what the mage was thinking.

"We'll hold them until we're sure you guys are far enough away," Ben finally said, "and then whoever remains can escape into the forest and follow you the long way back."

"Just promise me you won't do anything stupid, kupo."

"And what would you describe as stupid?"

Isaac thought for a moment, then a wry grin came to his face. "Don't do anything I would do."

Ben smirked at that, too. The two lapsed into silence for some time after that. Isaac cast a glance over to the rest of the deck, and noticed that everybody seemed to have calmed down a bit. The moogle watched all of them, and let his gaze wander back to his own ship. It seemed, in an odd, surreal way, like they weren't heading towards a possibly disastrous battle; it felt so much more like they were just… adventuring. It felt like it used to, when Isaac had first landed on _the Torrent_. They didn't have anything they had to do; they could go anywhere, and do anything as they pleased. The moogle laid back against the railing, letting it take his weight, and closed his eyes. He had long since learned to savour these moments.

"You know, Isaac," Ben said, his voice hesitant. When Isaac cracked an eye open and glanced over at him, the mage shrugged, and said, "Maxwell's probably going to be leading their army."

It surprised Isaac for a moment. However, as he thought about it, he said, "I guess that makes sense, kupo. He's the only one who knows New Cyril's definite location. If you run into him, what will happen?"

Ben let out a long, tired sigh. Then, he said, "I hate to tell you this, Isaac, but I promise that, by the end of today, either he or I will be dead."

Isaac looked up sharply, glaring over at Ben. "What?"

"Nobody else is going to fight him. He's our responsibility. I'm either going to end his evil today, or I'll die trying."

"You're not serious," Isaac whispered, even though the look on Ben's face confirmed that the mage was, indeed, serious. "You can't…"

"You didn't see Eileen's face after her fight with him yesterday, Isaac. She can't do it; she's already made too many sacrifices for this war. After seeing her like that, and seeing how he hurt you… I'm not letting him get away with it."

"But you don't have to do this, Ben!" Isaac exclaimed, facing the mage again. "Why do you—"

"Three years ago, circumstances forced you to do the impossible, Isaac," Ben interrupted, and Isaac's voice caught in his throat. Ben looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "You never should have had to do that, or make that decision. I'm not going to force you to do it again. It has to be one of us who brings him down; you know that. Eileen can't, and I'm not going to make you destroy yourself again, so instead, I'll do it."

Isaac stared at the mage, barely believing what he'd just heard. He managed to catch his breath, and whispered, "You don't know what you're saying, kupo…"

"I know exactly what I'm saying."

"You don't, though!" Isaac said, having trouble keeping his voice under control. His paw was shaking, and his breathing shuddery. "You have no idea what it is you're talking about doing. Do…" he stopped, his words failing him as he glanced about. He noticed that a few of the others on deck, Captain Rolf in particular, were watching the two of them with some interest now. The moogle turned his attention back to Ben, and asked, "How often do you see Jacqueline in your head, lying dead in your arms?"

"Every night," the mage whispered, biting his lip slowly.

Isaac nodded slowly, then whispered, "Every day, I feel it, kupo. When I'm least expecting it, when I think I've finally forgiven myself, I'm suddenly back there, and I can feel my blade cutting her skin. I can feel it sinking in. I can feel… all of it."

"Stop…"

"If you do this, Ben, if you even try doing this, you'll never forgive yourself. You'll say that you did it for me and Eileen, and you'll say that you had no choice, and that'll make you feel better for a little while, kupo. But then, it'll come back, and you'll see his face, and you'll want to throw up because it hurts so much."

"I don't want to hear this, Isaac."

"You have to hear it! Don't do this… just… don't."

"Then who'll do it?" Ben demanded, rounding on the moogle as well now. The light in his eyes flared up, and his canine teeth began protruding from between his lips a bit. "Who else will stop him?"

Isaac held his arms out from his body helplessly. "Let me, kupo. Or anybody else. Who knows, we might not even have to kill him. Just don't consciously put yourself into that position, kupo. If you do this, you can never take it back."

"We've got visual on the palace's force!" a voice called out, surprising both Isaac and Ben. For the moment, they had forgotten that anybody else was on the boat. They turned at the same time to glance up at Vili, standing in the crow's nest.

"Where?" Rolf demanded, his eyes instantly roving across the landscape beneath them.

"About two kilometres to… uh… port."

Isaac and Ben turned to look, and each one instantly felt their heads go seemingly… light. Isaac actually grabbed onto the railing to help keep himself balanced, and an involuntary growl sounded from the mage's throat.

The force marching towards the Koringwood could be described by a single word: massive. At first glance, there must have been at least five thousand. It took a few moments for their eyes to take in the entire mass; they kept getting lost amongst the ranks and ranks of soldiers.

About a quarter of them wore bright, shining armour, and carried banners with the insignia of the palace on them. The rest, however, were of a very different nature. They all wore dark clothing; few carried any armour, from what they could see, and the few shields that they could make out from so far away bore a black handprint on them. These soldiers all looked much worse for wear than the others, sporting scars everywhere.

"Who _are_ they, kupo?" Isaac demanding, still staring.

"_Those_ are the forces of Khorin Blackhand," a voice from behind them said. Marche stepped up so that he was leaning on the banister next to the two of them, and sighed as he stared at the army far below. "They may not look pretty, but so long as Blackhand is leading them, one of them can fight as well as three palace guards." Marche hesitated for a second, then added, "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Ben."

"It's not what I'm getting _myself_ into," the human replied, his eyes still scanning the force below. "It's what I'm getting _them_ out of."

Isaac, standing beside Ben, couldn't help but wonder who Ben meant by 'them'.

---

At Ben's direction, they lifted a few kilometres higher into the sky, making sure they had cloud cover as they passed over the army below. Then, they made their way, by Ben's descriptions and Tifone's skill at plotting a course, to the Northern point of the woods before dropping down beneath the clouds.

_The Fallen Star II_ landed, and Isaac, Ben, Eileen, and the members of Clan Nutsy quickly got out. Their plan was a simple one; _the Red Flash_ would remain airborne so that it could combat any enemies who might happen upon their position. _The Fallen Star II_'s crew would keep the ship landed, but ready, until Clan Nutsy, Isaac, and Eileen got back. Then, any wounded or elderly citizens of New Cyril could board the ship, while the rest of the group made their way on foot to Tubola Cave.

As their small group set off into the woods, Ben began speaking, almost to himself.

"They were a couple of kilometres from the forest's edge when we saw them… so they should probably be entering the forest right now… but there are more of them, they don't know the path as well, and they're taking a longer route… we should get there first…"

The mage kept muttering things to himself as he led them onward, Grans close behind him. Her demeanour had changed drastically after having learnt of the pressing danger to New Cyril. Her eyes seemed to have a sharper edge to them, and all of her movements were more direct. Occasionally, she would glance back for a moment to warn them of a hidden drop or a slippery patch, but beyond that she was silent.

They walked for about an hour, setting a hard pace to keep up with Ben. However, eventually, he stopped abruptly, and straightened his back. He sniffed the air, and whispered, "We're being watched…"

Instantly, weapons came out on all sides. None of them panicked; they all simply stood, scanning the foliage for any sign of unusual movement.

Finally, Ben called out, "Who do the corpses fear?"

There was silence for a moment. Then, a muffled voice replied, "The butcher. More than less?"

"Better than worse," Ben said, his eyes still scanning the trees uneasily.

There was a moment of shuffling, and then a woman with a bow strapped to her back stepped out of the bushes on their right. Several of them jumped; she'd been completely invisible a moment before.

"Is that you, sir, and Grans?" the woman asked, eying the mage carefully.

"It is, Winona," Ben replied, turning to face her. She looked as though she was about to speak, but Ben interrupted her, "I'm sorry, but there is no time. We must get to New Cyril. _Now_."

Winona, as she seemed to be called, straightened her back, and gave a curt nod. "Shall I clear the path ahead for you, sir?"

"Please do, and make sure the guards know we're coming so we don't have to waste time with passwords. Go."

The woman nodded, then turned away and disappeared into the undergrowth again.

They set off again, moving even faster this time. Upon seeing a member of his guard, Ben seemed to have found a new motivation to move quickly. His sabres veritably bounced in their sheaths with his movement, and more than a few members of Clan Nutsy were breathing heavily when, a half hour later, they arrived at the wall of the city.

Several guards were already waiting for him, and all of them began calling out greetings when the group came into sight. Ben, however, cut all of them off quickly.

"Get inside the walls," he ordered, not slowing in his stride. "Get everybody up, and I mean _everybody_ in five minutes. Tell them to meet by the Northern wall. Zach?"

"Yes, kupo," a moogle with a violin strapped to his back piped up, throwing a quick salute to Ben.

"Give the signal for everybody to return from patrol. Everybody else, _move_."

The others nodded, and then they bolted, running into the city. Soon, calls could be heard from all over within the walls. Zach remained behind, and shrugged his violin down. He placed his bow to the string, took a deep breath, and began playing.

Surprisingly, the small instrument let out a great, reverberating tone. Isaac was even forced to cover his ears from the noise. Several members of their group took surprised steps back, staring at the animist as he played a quick series of notes.

Finally, he finished playing, and turned to Ben, giving a quick nod. "That ought to do it, sir."

"Alright, good work," Ben nodded back. Then, he glanced back at the rest of the group, and said, "We should get in there. Things are going to start happening very quickly."

He turned, and everybody followed him into the city. Already, hundreds of the citizens were flocking to the Northern wall, with several of the guards and scouts rushing about to help any stragglers get moving.

Ben walked purposefully along with the crowd, keeping his back straight. Grans stepped up to walk beside him, and the rest of the group fanned out behind them. As the nu mou and the human passed people, an increasingly large number of stares began turning towards them. Soon, murmurs could be heard passing through the crowd, and people ahead of them were turning around to see if they could get a look at the pair.

Soon, a pathway had opened up in front of the group, giving them clear passage to the front of the crowd. They quickly reached the front of the group, and then Ben and Gran turned to face the assembled people. Several of the members of Ben's watch were also at the front, but they simply looked to Ben for orders.

"Is there anybody left?" the Blue mage asked at last.

"None; this is everyone in the village. There are a few scouts out on patrol who have yet to return, but that's about it."

"Alright, we may as well begin, then," Ben muttered, and shook his head. Then, he glanced up so that he was looking at the crowd, and called out, his voice ringing in the silence, "We have little time, so I will be brief. Our position is no longer secret. The palace has discovered our location."

At this, a rumbling went through the crowd. Their position had been revealed? How?

Ben waited for the whispering to die down, and then he continued, "At current, the palace has a force of approximately five thousand soldiers marching towards here. They'll be arriving within an hour's time."

This time, there were several outbursts, be they demands for an explanation, or simple cries of terror. Ben waited a few moments for silence to return, before sighing in annoyance. He glanced over at Grans, and inclined his head towards the crowd somewhat.

The nu mou nodded, and quickly pulled her whip from its harness by her hip. She unwound it with a couple deft movements, then cracked it into the air.

The sharp noise surprised everybody in the crowd for a moment, and they all turned to stare at the pair. Ben gave a quick nod of thanks to Grans, and then went on.

"I was about to say that you must not panic. We have a plan in place to get out. At the Northern point of the forest, an airship is waiting to carry the weak and the sick. The rest of you will have to travel on foot to an alternate hideout that is being supplied by my friend Eileen, former Greatspell.

"I realise that it will probably take some time for everybody to get out of the forest and begin moving; time that we do not have. Therefore, I'm asking that all members of the guard and all those who are able to fight stay behind to hold the enemy for some time. Once we have slowed them down sufficiently, our group of defenders will retreat, and take a roundabout route to the same location. Is that understood?"

There was deadly silence as Ben finished. Everybody was staring at him, not sure precisely how to react to these sudden revelations. It was all so sudden to them; the palace attacking, an evacuation, a new home? How could it all happen so quickly?

When Ben saw that there wouldn't be any arguments with his plan, he gave a slow nod, then said, "Alright. In five minutes, I want everybody who will be leaving prepared to go. The members of Clan Nutsy will be protecting all of you on your way to the airship, so you have no need to fear. Also, if Owen would step forward and speak to me, it would be much appreciated. That is all."

Once again, everybody stared for a few seconds. Then, a voice that sounded like Winona's called out, "Hey, he said five minutes! If you've got anything you need, then get to it, and quick!"

With that, the village exploded into motion again, as everybody rushed to gather travelling supplies or fetch their weapons. Isaac, Ben, Eileen, and Nutsy simply leaned back to wait, knowing that it was only a matter of time, now.

"You're running a risk, giving them five minutes," Eileen muttered to Ben as they watched the chaos around the village. "The palace could show up at any second."

"This is the second time in three years that these people have been forced to flee the destruction of their homes," Ben replied, his glowing eyes sweeping over the camp. "I couldn't just ask them to leave blindly with no time to grasp the idea."

"Sir?"

Eileen and Ben turned from each other, finding Owen standing a few feet away from their group. Ben approached him quickly, and began speaking.

"Owen, I want you to escort those who are fleeing to the airship."

The hunter's eyes clouded, and he said, "But I should be here! I'm better with a bow than almost anybody else, and I can control my Blue magic. You need me here."

"Wrong; I need a guide that knows the forest very well, that the people of this village know and trust, and that can help to repel an attack if it comes. You're the only person I can trust with this."

Owen regarded him suspiciously for a moment. Then, he muttered, "This is because of what I know, isn't it?"

Ben hesitated a couple of seconds, and finally sighed. "Yes, it is. I don't want you falling into the palace's hands."

Owen ignored Ben's response, and pressed further. "I'm the reason that the palace is attacking?"

"…Yes."

"Right… then why don't we just give them what they want?"

"What?"

Owen gestured with his arm to the chaos in the camp behind him. "I won't let any of those people die to protect me. If I turn myself in, we can just stop it right now. Nobody has to—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Marche said, stepping forward with his hands behind his back, "but frankly, you don't know the palace. Your surrender enough won't be able to stop this battle. They see a major victory in their future; they'll still attack in the hopes of weakening any rebellion."

"Which is why we need you to be safe," Ben continued, nodding quickly to Marche in thanks. "If the palace gets a hold of you, then this war is already over."

Owen seemed torn for a moment, weighing his options in his head. Then, very slowly, he nodded, and whispered, "Fine. I'll do it."

"Good," Ben sighed, patting Owen on the shoulder. "Go and fetch that bow I gave you, and be back here in three minutes."

The next few minutes were difficult to keep track of. A progressively large group of people began amassing all around their small group, most of them either grumbling or crying. Many of those who were coming were either decrepitly old or too young to hold a weapon. As Isaac glanced over to the group of those staying to fight, his eyes picked out several who, by all rights, were far too young to be there. However, he knew that they didn't have the time to negotiate with each and every one of these, so he kept his mouth shut.

Finally, it seemed that everybody was organised. Once several quick goodbyes between separated family members were exchanged, Ben cleared his throat, and spoke to the fleeing group.

"Alright, I want all of you to do whatever these people say. Owen will be coming with you as an escort, so you have no reason to fear. Now, move out."

And, with that, the large group began setting out. There must have been about six hundred of them, filtering out slowly through the gate. Marche, Owen, and Caitlin went to the head of the group to lead them out. Vili quickly disappeared, and moved off to shadow them and cover them from any danger. This left Isaac, Eileen, Guinness, and Lindsay to wait at the back of the pack as everybody worked on getting moving.

Isaac and Eileen glanced over to Ben. The saw them, and quickly dismissed the hunter he was speaking to. He approached them quickly, and the three stood there, all staring at each other.

"So…" Ben whispered, licking his dry lips. "I, uh, I guess I'll see you later."

"Right," Eileen nodded. Her hands kept clenching and unclenching on the fabric of her cloak. "Just… don't do anything stupid."

"I'll see what I can do about that," Ben replied with a grin. He glanced up, and said, "You guys should get going."

Eileen nodded, and started leaving. Isaac, however, hesitated a moment, and turned to Ben.

"Remember: don't do anything you'll regret, kupo."

Ben snorted dismissively. "Didn't you hear me? I just told Eil—"

"You know what I mean, kupo," Isaac countered sharply. Ben fell silent, and Isaac continued. "And make sure you keep that promise to Eileen."

"What, the 'don't do anything stupid' one?"

"No," Isaac replied, "the 'see you later' one."

Ben hesitated, then shrugged helplessly, and said, "I'll see what I can do about that."

The two of them nodded slowly to each other. Then, Isaac turned, and followed the others through the gate.

The group moved as quickly as they could back through the forest. Isaac made sure that he kept a few steps behind the others, his grip tight on the Materia Blade's hilt. If anybody were to catch up and attack them, he and Vili would be their first line of defence. Even though he couldn't see the young viera anywhere, Isaac definitely felt more comfortable knowing that he wasn't alone.

At one point, about an hour into their walk, Eileen glanced back to Isaac, and whispered, "Do you think they've started the battle yet?"

"Who knows, kupo?" Isaac muttered, turning from his survey of their surroundings. "If Ben's guesses were right, it should've begun by now."

Eileen nodded slowly, turning to look at the long procession of people in front of her. "I hate this feeling."

"Kupopo?"

"The feeling that I can't do anything while any of you are risking your lives. After what happened with you in the Tower of Adrammalech, I promised I'd never be in this situation again, but I guess it's unavoidable."

"This isn't your fault, kupo," Isaac muttered, shaking his head. "You can't blame yourself for this, or think that you have to take responsibility for it."

"Like you're one to talk," Eileen replied.

Isaac glanced at her, surprised, and was about to reply with a sharp comment, but Guinness managed to catch his eye with a quick shake of his head. Isaac eyed him, and the White mage gave him a sceptical look.

"Either way," Guinness said pointedly, clearly trying to draw Eileen's attention away from the confused moogle, "we can only hope that Ben and his lot are ready for what they're facing, and make sure that these people get back safe. Really, we should hope that none of us will have to take part in any battle; we want to protect the civilians as best as we can."

"It is already too late for all of us to avoid combat," a soft voice said. The other three turned sharply, and found Lindsay fixing her queer gaze on them. Her eyes seemed to be even more distant than usual, widening and focusing on something that was moving far in the distance. "The totema are preparing to aid their chosen; a dark day has dawned."

"Lindsay?" Guinness demanded. He stepped close to her, and grabbed hold of her hand. Isaac felt a shiver going up his spine, partially from the ominous words, and partly from a sudden chill in the air. When had it gotten so cold?

"Lindsay, I need you to focus. Are you having a vision?"

"Sacrifices will be made for this battle," the viera continued, oblivious to Guinness's voice. "Innocence, friendship, and life. Such shall be the losses in the battle."

"What are you talking about?" Guinness demanded. Several of the other travellers at the back of the group were turning to glance at the possessed viera, regarding her with a mix of confusion and fear. "Are you talking about the battle in New Cyril?"

"New Cyril," the viera nodded, very slowly, then added, "and here as well."

Silence.

"Here?" Guinness breathed, clearly doing his best not to panic. "When?"

Lindsay seemed to notice the nu mou for the first time, and then cocked her head to the side as she regarded him. "Why, it's already begun."

"What?"

Isaac, Eileen, and Guinness all spun around, pulling out their weapons and backing up instinctively closer to the group. If an attack came, they would have to cover the escape. Isaac's eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for anything out of the ordinary. However, his attention was diverted as he picked out something small and white, drifting downwards through the air.

The moogle watched it fall slowly down, currents of air tossing it occasionally into small lifts and circles. He reached out his paw carefully, and felt the pinprick of cold on the back of it through his fur as it touched against his skin.

"Snow?" he whispered, staring at it. He looked up, and his eyes picked out millions more of the tiny snowflakes dropping from the sky, seeming to just materialize in the middle of the air. "It's snowing, kupo…"

"It's an illusion!" Eileen yelped, suddenly understanding. "They're trying to slow us down and cover their movements."

As soon as she said it, the air around them suddenly went from being cold to outright frigid. Their breath began turning into puffs of vapour in front of their faces, and many of the refugees cried out in surprise. The wind whipped up, and the snow began roaring down to fall into their eyes and impede their vision.

"Isaac!" Guinness roared, getting he moogle's attention. "I want you to fly up to the front and make sure Owen is safe! Eileen, give him some wind!"

"What about you, kupo?"

"We're mages, Isaac! We can lessen its effects on ourselves and everybody else around us. You go!"

Isaac nodded, and jumped. His wings shook as they spread in the heavy, cold air. For a moment, he was being pushed back by the snowstorm's wind. A moment later, though, he could feel a great wind kick up behind him, and suddenly, he was soaring forward. The moogle flapped as hard as he could, racing to get to the front of the crowd.

Beneath him, all of the refugees were looking around in surprise, confused by the sudden change in temperature. Many of them looked up as the moogle passed overhead, and more than a few called to him for an explanation. He ignored all of them, however; he knew that he didn't have time.

It only took at most twenty seconds for the front of the pack to come into view. As soon as he saw them, Isaac yelled as loud as he could, "Marche!"

He saw a blonde head turning to look, and faintly heard the human's voice, "Isaac! What's going on?"

"It's an illusion, kupo! They're sending somebody after Owen! Watch him!"

As soon as he heard the words, Marche turned. "Caitlin!" He said the name as an order, almost.

The human nodded quickly, and closed her eyes, even as her hands went to the hilts of her weapons. An oddly serene look came to her face, and she stopped in her movements. The others at the front of the pack began tensing up and reaching for their weapons, waiting. Owen, in particular, looked around in sudden fear. His sabre was already clamped in both of his hands, ready for any incoming attacks.

Suddenly, Caitlin seemed to disappear from view. One moment, she was standing, breathing calmly, her body relaxed. The next, a sharp metallic ring was echoing above the sound of the snowstorm, and Caitlin stood in front of a surprised-looking Owen. Her blade was held above her head, and her sword was covering her right hip. Both of them shook with great effort, as though they were blocking.

The next few moments were very confusing. Suddenly, Caitlin leaned back, and pulled her weapons up. Then, she lunged forward, her weapons launching into a complex series of stabbing and slashing manoeuvres. Each time she extended one of the two weapons, another metallic clash would sound, and their edges would stop abruptly in midair as the ribbon on her sword's hilt fluttered in the wind. Occasionally, the skilled fighter would leap back, or lift a block against an invisible weapon. However, right afterwards, she would dive forward again, pushing her invisible foe back, step after step.

As Isaac landed next to the shocked Owen, Caitlin cried out, falling back a step. A line of red suddenly appeared on her right shoulder, sending a small spatter of blood flying into the snow.

She gritted her teeth, and stood still again, occasionally tilting her head one way or another. It was like she was trying to move her head to pick up a soft, barely audible sound.

"Caitlin?" Marche finally asked, stepping hesitantly towards the fighter. "What's the situation?"

"There's only one of them," she whispered, still moving her head occasionally. "He fights with two weapons, and he's incredibly fast."

"You mean the same man who's casting the illusion is simultaneously managing to fight on par with you?"

"Yes."

Marche let out a long sigh. "Alright. Can you defeat him alone?"

Caitlin paused to think for a moment, still looking about. "I think that I could if I focused the full power of my Eye on him, but it would be dangerous. I'd be thinking singularly of killing him, and if any of you got in the way, I would probably cut you down as well. Also, I can't vouch for my ability to defend attacks coming for Owen in that state. It'll be all about me and him."

"Dammit," Marche whispered, looking about carefully.

Isaac listened to this whole exchange without saying a word. As Caitlin's assessment went on, he could feel a pit burrowing deeper and deeper into his chest. They couldn't let the palace have Owen; but, if they didn't give up Owen, there was no way that they could get by without losing at least a few refugees to their mysterious assailant.

Suddenly, Lindsay's words from earlier came to Isaac, and he remembered what she'd said about sacrifice. Was this it, then? Was this when they would have to choose? He glanced back at the refugees behind him; all of them were shivering, and those who were already sick to begin with looked to be on the edge of passing out.

Owen stepped forward, suddenly. He cleared his throat, and said, "Let me turn myself over. He can't take me and attack all of you at the same time. I'll buy you enough time to escape."

"You're the reason we came here in the first place," Marche replied, still scanning the trees. "We're not giving you up that easily."

"But it's the only way—"

"Let me do it instead."

Owen and Marche turned to glance at Isaac, both of them raising eyebrows at him. "Why would he choose to go for you rather than Owen?"

Isaac briefly considered holding it back, but realised that they would never trust him any other way. Besides, he'd already spoken; there was no looking back now.

"The palace believes that I may be even more key to the rebellion's cause than Owen," Isaac said simply, breathing heavily through his nose. "If I stay behind while all of you go ahead, our attacker will come after me instead. I might be able to beat him."

Marche regarded the moogle suspiciously. Then, he whispered, "Why didn't you mention your importance before?"

"Everybody needs their secrets, kupo," Isaac replied, not blinking or turning away from the human's hard stare. "Besides, I'm not a member of your clan; I have no bond of allegiance stating I have to tell you everything."

"We have to decide soon," Caitlin called, a note of anxiety in her voice. "I don't think that this guy will wait forever."

Marche hesitated a moment longer, then snapped, "Fine, do it. But I expect a full explanation once you get back."

Isaac didn't reply; he simply kept his gaze locked on Marche.

"Let's get moving. I have a feeling we'll want to be far away once the two of you begin your battle."

With that, the group began moving again, this time with an added sense of urgency. Caitlin cast Isaac a quick look of thanks as the front of the pack left, and Isaac simply nodded to her, and waited where he was.

He watched as the long line of refugees passed by; many of them stared at the moogle that had been flying overhead just a few minutes earlier. However, none asked questions; apparently, they all recognized the need for haste.

Finally, the end of the line approached. When they reached him, Eileen and Guinness approached Isaac, and the moogle filled them in as quickly as he could on what had happened, and all that had been decided.

When he finished, Guinness nodded slowly, and said, "Thank you. We're grateful for your courage."

"Just get going, kupo. We can't trust that this attacker will just hang back until you're all gone. Guard the back."

Guinness nodded, and turned to follow the pack. This left Isaac and Eileen alone, staring at each other.

"Ultima," the nu mou whispered, barely breathing as she stared at Isaac. "It's happening again, isn't it?"

"It has to be like this, Eileen," Isaac said, finding it difficult to meet her gaze. "It'll guarantee the least number of casualties…"

"Let me stay with you," she begged. "Let me stay behind and help you fight."

"No, kupo," Isaac replied, biting his lip. "You're the only one that knows the path to Jagd Helje. The best place for you right now is getting all of these people somewhere safe. Besides, there's nothing saying that the palace hasn't set up an ambush somewhere else. You need to protect these people, kupo."

Eileen nodded slowly, forcing herself to do it. She gasped out, "I hate this so much."

"I know, kupo," Isaac replied. He reached up, suddenly, and pulled the Materia Blade out of its sheath. Then, he offered it to her, the handle towards her. "Take this."

"Don't," Eileen demanded, glaring at him now. "Don't you dare ask me to give that to Cecilia if something happens to you. Don't make me live with that."

Isaac grinned, and shook his head slowly. "No. I want you to hold onto this, because Lini gave it to me, and I'll have to come back and get it at some point, kupo. I'll be back for that."

Eileen stared at the weapon, then reached forward hesitantly and took it. She sighed as she stared at the polished length, and said, "I'll be waiting for you in Helje. Both of you."

"Right. Now go, kupo."

Eileen nodded, then turned and ran to catch up with the pack.

Isaac watched her until she was lost from sight. Then, he rolled his shoulders back, trying to relax them. His paw reached over, and closed around the hilt of the Avuir Blue. He drew the magnificent weapon out. Even as he did, he felt the cold around him dimming somewhat, and the snow seemed to take on a slightly less real feel to it.

Alright. He could do this.

"I assume you're the one the call Isaac?"

Isaac spun around at the voice, and his eyes instantly caught a splotch of darkness, shimmering in translucence through the illusion of the snowstorm. The moogle took a careful step back, and raised his blade.

"I am, kupo. And who, might I ask, do I have the honour of battling?"

The other figure snickered, and, suddenly, the illusion disappeared. All of the snow vanished, and the cold lifted. They were back in the forest, the weather typical for that of early fall.

Before him, the black splotch had solidified. Now, it wore a black, ragged cloak, with two empty sheaths protruding from just above both shoulders beneath the garment. A criss-crossing series of belts covered the man's chest, with dozens of knives stuck into them.

The human must have been about six feet tall, by Isaac's guess; of course, it was hard to tell from his short stature. A slightly greasy mess of brown hair was pulled into a very short ponytail, showing the shadowed face beneath. The thin lips parted into a smile as the man spoke.

"This won't be battle, moogle. It will be a slaughter." The man raised his weapons, a pair of katana, and pointed them at Isaac. The moogle's eyes widened as he saw that the man's right hand was completely black, as though it had been dyed that colour. "However, if you wish to know the name of your executioner, most know me as Khorin Blackhand."

---

A/N: And you guys thought the _last_ chapter was a cliff-hanger? Extra Merry Christmas – due to a mix up, my flight ended up being three days later than I thought it would be, and I had nothing better to do. It was either this or read Sinclair Ross. Huzzah for writing out of boredom!


	94. Black

Isaac jumped, ducking his head so that none of the branches would swipe across his face. He reached out a foot, and felt a small jolt of relief as it touched down on the thin surface of a branch. It bent slightly under his weight, and it probably would have snapped if the moogle didn't flare his wings out and jump again.

As the moogle leapt, he tried to listen, not sure whether he wanted to pick up any noise or not.

The moogle's foot touched down on the next branch, and he tensed his leg for another jump. Just as he was about to go, one of his ears twitched. Fortunately for him, Isaac's body reacted before his mind was given enough time to process the information. He changed the pressure on his foot slightly, and threw himself to the side in a tight roll.

Even as he went into the air, Isaac felt the wind where he had just been standing displacing. Isaac turned his head, and his eyes widened as he watched a twin pair of katana slicing through the space he'd just been occupying.

Isaac landed slightly closer to the base of the branch, and lifted his blade. The two katana slammed hard into it, and the force pushed Isaac back a step. The moogle managed to dig his feet in, then slashed back as quickly as he could.

One of the katana picked off his attack, but Isaac quickly brought his weapon back across to try and score a hit.

Before him, Khorin simply leaned his head back slightly. He didn't flinch as the Avuir Blue's tip passed not an inch in front of his throat. In the short moment of time after the attack, the human lifted his foot, smashing it into Isaac's face.

Isaac felt his feet leave the ground, even as stars exploded in front of his eyes. He dropped back and off of the branch, and for several moments, he was dropping through the forest canopy.

He managed to get his wings out, and circled around once. He opened his eyes, trying to get some clarity through the pain in his nose. He righted himself, then turned and began gliding in the direction he had been going. He was probably about sixty metres up in the air, and falling fast. Reaching to his face, he felt something warm and wet running from his nose down into the fur of his face. He glanced to his paw and grimaced. Blood. That kick must have broken his nose.

Isaac glanced down to the ground, and tried to get his breathing back under control. So long as he was gliding, Isaac was probably moving faster than Khorin. If he was lucky, he would gain enough of a lead from his flight to avoid combat for a few more minutes.

The ground rushed up to meet Isaac, and he moved his wings to break hard. The force whipped his torso back, and he stumbled as he stepped down. He tripped, and slammed hard into the ground. He rolled over, and finally came to a stop with his face in the dirt.

The moogle lay there for a moment, breathing hard and feeling for the pain that would mark any broken bones. Once he was certain that he hadn't hurt himself too badly, he pushed himself up slowly to his feet. He stretched slowly, then winced and grabbed a long, open slash along his side. He shook his head, took a deep breath, and started off at a hard run through the forest.

From the moment that Isaac had started his battle with Khorin, the moogle had known that he was outmatched. For every slash he threw, Khorin would send ten more back at him. Before even a full minute of combat, the human had managed to score that hit on Isaac's side, barely even breaking a sweat at the series of quick and hard slashing routines.

Knowing that he stood no chance otherwise, Isaac had broken off the attack as soon as possible, and began running as hard as he could. However, it seemed as though wherever he went, Khorin was already there, waiting for him. Figuring he might have a bit of an advantage in the air with his wings, Isaac took his first chance to get up into a tree.

And so, the last twenty minutes or so had consisted of Isaac running as fast as his bleeding side would allow, interspersed with occasional bursts of harsh combat.

The moogle ducked into a small patch of undergrowth, and sat down with his back against a tree trunk. He arranged himself carefully, then reached gingerly over to the blood-stained tear on the side of his shirt. He winced as he lifted the cloth, and laid his paw over the parted skin.

"Alright, kupo," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "Work for me now."

His eyebrows creased in concentration, and he lowered his head. A pale, silvery glow appeared around his paw, and quickly spread to cover the wound. Isaac let out a slight sigh as the pain dimmed slightly, and the blood around the skin began clotting.

The light dimmed, and then went out as Isaac stood back up. The pain was still there, but it had definitely lessened. He would probably be able to hold out a bit longer now, so long as he could avoid any longer duels with Khorin.

The moogle began taking a step, then paused, his ears pricking up. An instant later, he dove to the side, a katana plunging through the bushes about him and stabbing into the tree trunk.

Isaac rolled out of the underbrush, then stood up, his blade held ready to block. Khorin, standing only a few feet from the moogle's former hiding position, brought his other katana out in a quick stab at his face. Isaac swiped it away, and took a step forward, slashing.

With barely a hint of effort, the human ripped his first katana out of the tree, bringing it down to parry his attack.

The block held solidly, but Isaac simply angled his weapon slightly so that the tip was pointing at Khorin's face. He groped out with a finger, and pulled the trigger on the Avuir Blue's hilt.

Khorin pulled out of the block and twirled to the side, coming around to face Isaac again. He swiped both katana forward, and Isaac jumped back out of their reach. He pointed his gunblade, and fired off three shots. As he pulled the trigger the final time, Isaac's eyes narrowed, and a small jolt of blue sparks ran down the barrel and into the bullet.

Khorin's pair of katana slashed forward, knocking the missiles out of the air. However, as his right-hand weapon pinged off of the final bullet, electricity burst down the length to shock the human's hand.

As Khorin let out a grunt and shook his electrocuted hand, Isaac turned and began running again. However, he hadn't gone more than five steps when the earth around him suddenly began heaving and cracking. Isaac called out as the ground he was standing on jumped, and he skittered sideways, trying to find stable footing.

However, much to his surprise, his foot went right through the piece of earth he was about to step on, and found the ground a few inches lower than he'd expected. The moogle stumbled slightly, and glanced around.

Suddenly realising what it was, Isaac tightened his paw's grip on the hilt of the Avuir Blue. The pitching earth seemed to become transparent, and the moogle could just barely see the even ground beneath.

A dark black splotch off to his right drew Isaac's attention away, and he raised his blade to block an attack from Khorin. Isaac stumbled back, trying to focus on the true, even earth beneath so he wouldn't stumble. All the way, his weapon swished back and forth, trying to block attacks and keep the ninja back.

Of course, the human's form was just as difficult to see as the earth through the illusion. The moogle gritted his teeth as his foot hit the ground a few inches earlier than he'd expected. It was hard enough for him to see through illusions as it was; being forced to duel an opponent at the same time may as well have been a kiss of death.

Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted from Isaac's right shoulder. The moogle tripped backwards, and his eyes attempted to take in which of the sets of earth was the true one so that he could brace for the fall.

Isaac hit the ground and rolled, pain budding from his shoulder whenever it touched the ground. The moogle managed to throw his good paw out, and extended it so that he could roll up to his feet.

When Isaac turned back to face Khorin, the human's form had become definite again, and the ground was no longer moving beneath his feet. The human was simply watching him with a smirk on his face, both katana held lazily at his side.

"Not bad," the human said, nodding slightly. "I don't know many people that have lasted this long in a chase with me."

"I do my best to impress, kupo," Isaac replied, shifting his eyes to look at his shoulder. A thin cut had opened along it, and blood was leaking out.

"I do find it interesting that you were willing to come back here for that boy's sake," Khorin commented, his eyes searching Isaac's face. "Surely you must realise how important your life and your death are to both sides."

"You're talking about Lady Emily's prophecy?" Isaac asked. When the human nodded, Isaac shrugged. "I don't plan on dying today."

"Well good luck on that. I do regret to inform you, though, that you won't be the first moogle Ultimate to die in these woods. Dying here would cause nothing."

"I already told you, kupo; I'm not dying today."

Khorin grinned, and his two katana came up. "The more times you say that, the more enjoyable it will be for me when I slice you open."

Isaac raised his gunblade, and squeezed the trigger. As Khorin sidestepped to dodge, Isaac turned and began running again. He broke through into a clearing, and glanced around at some of the surrounding trees. The ones on the edge of the clearing were shorter, their branches within much easier reach of the moogle. Knowing that they were his best chance, Isaac kicked off on his next step, and flapped his wings hard. Each pump sent a spasm of pain into the moogle's shoulder, but he managed to lift up and get into the higher branches of one of the trees.

Once there, Isaac started running across the branches, using his lightness to go out on thin branches that even the skilled human wouldn't be able to. When he was forced, the moogle would flap from one tree to the next, always glancing back to see if Khorin was following.

As Isaac was crossing over a short gap between the trees, he happened to see a splotch of black rushing across the earth below. Using his wings, he turned himself slightly in midair, and let loose a fireshot.

Below, Khorin didn't slow for the bullet. He simply kept running, and leapt, going into a full frontflip so that the attack passed beneath him.

Isaac had expected the dodge, knowing that a simple attack like that wouldn't catch the ninja off guard. So, even as his fireshot was leaving the barrel of his gun, he was twirling his gunblade around, forcing moonlight to gather at its base. He jumped from his next branch, and let the mog lance blast out, severing the branch from the tree.

The limb plummeted, falling straight at Khorin. The ninja simply sidestepped it, and kept running. However, he was forced to dodge again a couple steps later, as Isaac slashed through the base of another branch. Soon, the ninja could only run at a halting, gradual pace, having to dodge a branch every few feet.

Isaac, up above, swallowed as he let out another mog lance. He really hoped that none of the defenders of the forest would see him doing this. They would probably kill him faster than Khorin ever could. Still, though, it was working. He would do whatever necessary to get out of here alive. Besides, he'd already promised Eileen that he'd come back; he didn't have much of a choice anymore.

Suddenly, down below, Isaac saw Khorin's hands twitch. He looked to see what the ninja was doing, and saw the ninja had slapped his hands together into some sort of a complex symbol, and was now pointing up at him. That was odd. The past few times that Khorin had used illusions, he hadn't had to make any gestures. What cou—

Suddenly, as Isaac was cutting another branch, something hard wrapped around his ankle. He glanced down, and stared at the long tendril of a branch that had latched onto him. He tried pulling his foot away, but it held firm.

Then, with a sick feeling in his stomach, Isaac realised that that branch was an offshoot of the larger branch he had just shorn through.

The moogle tried to flare his wings out, but the branch was far too heavy for him. The wings just blew back, letting all of their air out, and Isaac began falling. He stared down, and a lump grew in his throat as he saw Khorin was running forward at a speed that would allow him to intercept Isaac's fall. Both of his katana were already swinging around in a pincer motion, waiting to skewer the moogle.

Isaac tore his gaze away, and felt for the heat of his fear. He fed that down into his blade, and it suddenly burst into flame. Not pausing to appreciate his own abilities, Isaac swung his blade down, biting through the shorter branch around his ankle.

As the moogle came free, he twirled with his blade extended. Moonlight built along the weapon, and as he came around, still a couple of feet above Khorin, he let out a mog lance at his opponent.

The ninja didn't blink. He simply turned sharply, spinning out of the way of the attack, and brought his elbow around to hit Isaac out of the air.

The moogle's breath flew from him as he suddenly stopped falling and was thrown backwards by the attack. He flew a few metres before his back smashed into a tree trunk, and he dropped to the ground.

The moogle knew that he wouldn't be able to get up fast enough to block Khorin's attack. So, instead, he simply lay there, breathing heavily and waiting for the katana.

However, after a few seconds, he looked up, his chest heaving, and saw that Khorin was still standing several metres away, watching him.

"You are _very_ good," Khorin grinned. "Are you ready to die, yet?"

Isaac managed a coughing laugh, bending over slightly at the sharp pains in his chest. Slowly, he sat up, propping his back against a tree.

"I don't even care, kupo," he muttered, leaning his head back. "I didn't get into this fight to win."

Khorin looked at him strangely, cocking his head to the side in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I didn't get into this fight to win," Isaac repeated. "If you kill me, it won't matter. The survivors will find another way to destroy the world."

"Survivors?" the ninja asked, becoming even more confused. "What survivors?"

"You let a huge group escape when you came after me, kupo. They'll get out of here, and…"

Isaac's voice stopped slowly as he heard an odd noise from Khorin. He looked at the ninja, and was surprised to see him covering his face, trying to hold back a smirk.

"What, kupo?"

"You think that I came after you with no backup plan?" Khorin asked, cocking an eyebrow at the moogle.

"Kupopo?" Isaac whispered, his eyes widening slightly as Khorin stood up straighter.

"Do you honestly think that I would be stupid enough to make that kind of a mistake?" Khorin laughed outright now, an odd, high-pitched sound. "Why, I'm offended, Isaac. You know, I have been organising mass slaughters for about fifteen years now; I leave nothing up to chance."

"What are you talking about?"

"The only reason I came after your group was because I thought I would be able to kill more people that way," Khorin shrugged. "It's so much less work when they're defenceless and frightened. Then, I saw that you were with them, and I figured that I may as well take you out myself. I don't mind letting my men have some fun every once in a while."

"A-all of your troops are fighting in New Cyril," Isaac said, but his mind was going through the possibilities.

"Not even close. I kept a force of a hundred back. They're circling the forest on chocobos right now, watching for any escapees. If a group like that is leaving, they'll be found, and the few fighters all those people have with them won't be able to protect them."

Isaac stared at the human for a few seconds. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, and there seemed to be a lightness coming to his head. As he stood up slowly, staggering from his injuries, he whispered, "Who the hell are you, kupo?"

Instead of answering the question, however, Khorin replied with another question. "What do you fight for, mogknight?"

Isaac sputtered for a moment, caught off-guard by the question. Finally, he managed to get out, "I fight to defend my friends."

The human sniggered, that same high-pitched laugh again. He shook his head slowly. "How honourable. I don't really get it though; I have no reason to fight. I do this because I enjoy it. From when my opponent blocks my first attack until the moment I feel the release of their skin parting beneath my katana… I live for it."

Though he knew he probably shouldn't, Isaac mustered up his nerve, and whispered, "How many people have you killed, kupo?"

"I don't keep track," the human shrugged. Then he lifted his black right hand, letting his sleeve drop a bit so that Isaac could see how the odd colouration extended partially down his wrist, where it lightened unevenly into shades of red. "However, to put it in perspective; whenever I kill somebody, presuming there's enough of them left, I bathe this hand in their blood. After all the years…" he smirked, lowering his hand down again so that his katana was pointed at Isaac, "the effect has become somewhat permanent."

There was silence after this declaration. Khorin seemed content to just stare at his stained hand for a while, no doubt savouring the memory of some old kill. Isaac watched him, his mouth dry. He was too busy trying to think of a way to save Eileen and the others to really consider anything else. The only chance they would possibly have would be if they happened to leave the forest shortly after the soldiers had passed that point. They might be able to get out of sight by the time they came around again. But that was heavily unlikely, and if the soldiers even saw the remnants of the tail end of the crowd, they could catch up to them in not time on the chocobos. They probably wouldn't even need to attack; they could just get the birds to trample all of the refugees…

Isaac's eyes widened as that thought brought a memory to his head; riding with Montblanc and July on the back of a chocobo in a sea of stampeding birds, the skilled animist directing the wild beasts like she'd been born to it.

"So, moogle," the human said, coming out of his thoughts, "are you ready to give in, yet?"

"Not quite, kupo," Isaac replied, straightening his back and raising his blade.

"You realise that you can't beat me, don't you?"

"And you realise that I don't care, don't you?"

With that, Isaac swiped forward with his blade, moonlight bursting from the tip. Khorin moved quickly to block the mog lance with one katana, extending the other in case Isaac should come at him.

The ninja's eyes widened in surprise, though, as he felt pressure against the second katana's tip. Had the moogle actually fallen into the obvious trap and impaled himself? Even a novice would have seen through such an attack.

As the mog lance faded, Khorin looked down, but was distracted as Isaac's blade smashed against the katana he'd been blocking with. The force that the moogle put behind the blow was surprising; it was a reckless strike that he wouldn't be able to pull back out of for a block.

He was about to swipe back with his second katana, but found that something seemed to be holding it back.

He looked over at the second weapon, and again his eyes widened.

Isaac's right paw was impaled on the katana, the moogle having intentionally thrown it out at the weapon as he'd been approaching. Now, he was pushing the limb out, trying to hold his opponent's other weapon out and away.

The moogle released his grip on the Avuir Blue, and drew his left paw back. His strike had knocked the other katana out far enough that he should have time. Balling up all of the fingers on his left paw, he lunged forward. As his fist connected with Khorin's face, Isaac fed it the paralysis he'd felt upon hearing the human's back up plan. Khorin began turning his head with the strike, but his face shuddered to a stop as Isaac's stopshot took effect.

Isaac panted for a moment, standing in that position. Then, slowly, he stepped back. He closed his eyes and clenched all of his muscles as he pulled his right paw off of the katana. It didn't hurt; if it had hurt, he probably would have been thankful. Still, it felt odd.

Finally, Isaac managed to take a few steps back from the frozen ninja, blood dripping from his paw all the way. He gave himself a few moments to catch his breath, then shook his head.

"You are so lucky that I'm not you," he said, shaking his head as he went to fetch the Avuir Blue. He replaced the weapon in its sheath, then ran off into the forest. He had to get to New Cyril.


	95. The Battle of New Cyril

The forest flew by him, all of it seeming to melt into a sea of mottled greens and browns. The only things that Isaac saw in any detail were the path directly in front of him, criss-crossed with roots, and the sky.

Or, more specifically, the massive plume of black smoke rising ominously from somewhere in front of him.

Isaac had noticed the smoke about five minutes ago, and now, as he began closing with New Cyril, its acrid stench was beginning to reach his nostrils. Once he got there, he would have to move fast. He had little time, if any. Considering how long it had been since he'd left Eileen and the others, they should've been reaching the outskirts of the woods at any moment.

As the moogle ran, he was forced to clamp his good paw to his side. The cut there had opened again, and was starting to bleed. Fortunately, it seemed his nose and shoulder had stopped bleeding, but between his hand and his side, he knew that he would pass out eventually. He might be able to find a healer there, or at least seal up his own wounds a bit once the fighting died down.

Up ahead, Isaac became aware of the sound of yelling voices. Occasionally, he would also pick up the sounds of swords clashing or spells discharging, but it was only varied smatterings. Soon, he would be in the thick of it, and then the moogle would have no time to stop.

Isaac paused for a moment just beyond the edge of the clearing that housed New Cyril. He would have to be ready for whatever was beyond these trees; he had no idea how well either side was facing. Either way, it would be horrendous; no judges were present, and neither side was holding anything back.

He took a deep breath, and stepped through the tree line.

Isaac's eyes widened. It wasn't for the reasons he'd expected; the bodies littered on the ground were every bit as gruesome, the reek of smoke every bit as putrid, the moans and cries of pain every bit as disturbing as he'd expected. No, his attention was drawn to something far different.

The thick wall of trees around New Cyril had seemed impenetrable. Originally, Isaac had thought that that one barrier would be the defenders' only hope. They could climb up into the higher reaches of the trees, and fire arrows down at their opponents. The palace's force would have to either cut the trees down, or attempt to climb them in order to get in.

Or so Isaac had assumed. What he saw before him completely upended that belief, though. It looked as though… well, it didn't look like anything Isaac had ever seen. A massive blackened hole, at least ten metres across, was gouged through the layer of trees. A long, wide trench of charred earth ran up to this hole, and just within Isaac's vision, it looked as though this hole continued into the village for some distance. The moogle's stomach turned as his eyes caught side of several smouldered corpses laying around the sides of this trench on the inside of the wall.

Isaac approached the gaping hole slowly, eying it carefully. He could hear the sound of intense combat coming from within. Weapons were smashing off of each other, spells were exploding, and people were yelling orders. However, none of it really got through to him. Even his thoughts about helping Eileen and the others disappeared from his mind as he stared at the hole.

The only thing that could have pulled off something like that was full-blown dragonfire. There was only one person alive, as far as Isaac knew, who could create dragon flames at will.

Maxwell was here.

Isaac jumped forward over the small lip of smouldering stumps still remaining, and his eyes took in everything quickly. It looked like a complete rout. Out of the maybe five hundred defenders that had remained to hold off the palace, it appeared that only about a hundred at most remained. These were all scattered in small pockets around the enclosed area, holding defendable ground against the waves of attackers.

Isaac was confused for a moment; it looked like there were only a few hundred palace soldiers here fighting them. There were nowhere near enough bodies for all of them to have been killed already. Sure, a good many littered the ground, but where were the rest?

Shaking it off, Isaac searched around the chaos for any sign of Ben or Max. However, there was none. The moogle couldn't catch any blasts of blue magic, or the silhouette flying through the sky that would identify Maxwell's fighting style. For an instant, Isaac felt a slight lump building in his throat, thinking that maybe his friends had already fallen in all of the fighting.

Then he shook it off. He didn't have the time to think about that kind of thing right now. He had his own battle to fight right now.

Not being able to think of any better way, Isaac set out across the short distance that stood between him and the mass. He kept his head ducked as he ran forward. He could feel the occasional displacements of air, hear the flitting wind, as arrows passed him by. Occasionally, he was forced to pull in part of his body closer to dodge, or even swing his gunblade around to intercept an incoming missle.

Fortunately, he managed to reach one of the fringe groups of defenders without major incident. There were maybe six of them left, mainly human aside from a bangaa and a viera. Though he would have wished to speak with them immediately, this was made impossible by how heavily pressed they were. Knowing he wouldn't get a chance to talk until they faced a lull in the battle, Isaac wordlessly rushed up from the back of their numbers, walking headlong into the opposing group of attackers just in front of them.

Then, Isaac's gunblade was swirling, intercepting chops and slashes from all over. The barrel at the base of the weapon began exploding with shots, and all about him Isaac's opponents began either freezing in place or turning their companions.

Within a couple of minutes, Alex and the ragged defenders with him managed to push their opponents back enough that they could afford a few seconds' rest. They all took a few steps back, breathing heavily.

For a few moments, they didn't speak. All of them were too exhausted from fighting to waste any breath on talking. Finally, one member of the group that had been hanging back throughout the fighting glanced at Isaac.

"You're hurt," she said, nodding at his side and his right paw. "Let me heal you."

Isaac nodded his thanks, still out of breath from both all of his running and the short bout of combat. The human approached, and began reaching for his paw, but he pulled it away. When she glanced up at Isaac, he simply shrugged, and managed to say, "It doesn't have any feeling, kupo. Do my side, first."

As the mage laid her hands softly on his cut skin, white light surging out of them, the viera, who seemed to be leading the group, looked at Isaac, and cocked her head to the side. "You're that moogle that was with Ben, aren't you?"

Isaac nodded, finally recognizing her as the sniper Winona that had met them on their way to New Cyril. Along with her greatbow and near-empty quiver of arrows, she now carried a long rapier. Isaac got his breath back under control, then asked, "Where's Ben?"

She hesitated for a moment, then turned her gaze upwards. Isaac followed her eyes, and then he had to stare.

High above, Isaac could barely make out two forms amongst the treetops. They were constantly circling around and around each other, occasionally meeting for brief moments. Whenever they came in contact with each other, there would be flashes of blue light, and occasional blasts of fire or lightning. Even without those more obvious signs of who was who, Isaac could tell by how they moved. He watched the figure that must have been Ben dancing from branch to branch, never staying in one spot for more than a moment, and moving as though he was running on air. Maxwell's form launched from tree to tree in rapid, straight lines, always landing somewhere near Ben's location.

"They've been fighting for almost half an hour, now," Winona said, seeing Isaac's shock. "As soon as the palace showed up, those two went at each other. Who is that dragoon?"

"It's a long story," Isaac muttered, still watching. Finally, he tore his eyes away from the scene. He wanted nothing more than to fly up there and… and, well, do something. However, he had his own job to do. He faced Winona again, and asked, "Do you know where that animist Zach is?"

"Zach?" Winona asked, surprised. "I was with him when the fighting broke out. Our group got split in two under the pressure. I think that was somewhere over there. Why?"

"The refugees are in danger," Isaac said, nodding his thanks as the White mage pulled her hands away from his sealed up side. There was still a rather large scar, but it would probably fade with time.

"What?" one of the other members of the group, a human with a knife, demanded. "Why?"

"I don't have time to explain, kupo, but I think that Zach is the only one that can save them right now," he said. "I'm sorry, but I'm going to leave you on your own, now. I have to find Zach."

"Goodbye then, sir," Winona said.

Something about the way she said it caught Isaac by surprise. He looked back at her and the five others, and then did a quick survey of the area. It looked like they were more or less the only ones left in this section of the village, with only a couple other pockets of two or three defenders scattered around. They might have held out for a while, but it couldn't last much longer. One last push from the palace's soldiers would probably be enough to finish them.

Isaac felt his mouth going dry, and forced himself to swallow. "If things… if things start getting hairy, you should retreat and try to meet up with the refugees."

"Of course we should," Winona shrugged, putting extra emphasis on the word 'should'.

Isaac nodded slowly, understanding. Then, he turned away, and flapped his wings, taking to the air. For a few moments, he simply power-flapped, trying to get a bit of altitude. He cast his gaze around the battlefield, marvelling again at how few of the defenders were left. Then, he cut a direct line in the direction that Winona had been pointing. He tried to keep high enough to be out of range of any spears, but low enough that archers wouldn't pick him off. It took quite a bit of work, keeping in that thin area between two dangers. Even as it was, he kept having to lift higher or dip lower than he was comfortable with in order to avoid occasional attacks.

As he flew, Isaac pointed his gun down into the areas of thickest concentration amongst the palace's soldiers, and fired off rounds of charmshots into them. It wasn't much; all he could hope to do was delay the inevitable for a short while. Still, it made Isaac feel a little less like he was just allowing all this to happen.

After a couple of minutes of searching around for Zach, Isaac flew towards one of the trees making up the village's wall, alighting there to rest for a few seconds. Even if his side was healed up, he had already lost a lot of blood, and he'd been running and fighting a lot. He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to keep this up. He leaned back against the trunk, placing his feet wide apart on the branch to maintain his balance. He turned his gaze upwards, and wiped sweat from his brow.

High above, Maxwell and Ben were still at it. It killed Isaac to just stand there, not stepping in and helping one of them. At the very least, he wanted to be able to stand on the sidelines and scream at them to stop. Anything but this… watching from so far away, hoping that neither of them hurt each other. This was impossible.

As Isaac was watching the darting figures high above, a sound came to his ears; the soft noise of a flute being played. Isaac instantly thought that it was Zach, but then remembered that the moogle had been playing a violin. On top of that, the music seemed to be coming from outside of the wall. Confused, Isaac turned around and looked outside of the walls. Again, the moogle's eyes widened.

Outside, there was a group of probably about twenty nu mous, all of them carrying instruments of some sort. At their head stood Grans, and it was her flute that Isaac could hear.

The thing that surprised Isaac was the huge group of beasts arranged around them, doing vicious battle with a massive force of the palace's soldiers. There were dozens, if not hundreds, of panthers, flans, goblins, fairies, and even a few lamias and malboros. Oddly, they all seemed to move in organised and perfect ranks as they battled with the soldiers.

The palace's forces were clearly having trouble with facing the monsters. Few of them had probably ever seen so many monsters at once before, and especially not so many of different species. It was almost terrifying to watch them falling beneath the panthers' claws, or bursting into flames as a flan released a gout of fire, or suddenly pitching forward with a goblin's knife in their backs.

That said, the palace still had the numbers strongly in their favour. For every soldier that fell, three more would step forward to fill their space. Slowly, but ever so surely, the beastmasters and their monsters were being pushed back towards the wall.

Seeing this, Isaac suddenly felt that he understood how the battle had gone down. The beastmasters must have summoned their forces before the palace arrived, and met them at the gate. Knowing how long it would to break through such a force, Maxwell had taken a large group of soldiers around to a sidewall, and blown a hole open for them.

Isaac turned his gaze away again, shaking his head sharply. He had to stop getting distracted. Eileen and the others were the priority here. He still had to find Zach.

The moogle jumped off from the branch, spreading his wings again and taking to the skies. He skimmed slightly lower this time, occasionally being forced to weave around spears or sword thrusts. He was listening hard for the violin, all the while still firing his charmshots into the crowd. He had to be around here somewhere.

He kept close to the wall, figuring he had better chances if he only had to watch for missiles from one side. It was difficult to hear or see anything over the smoke from the many large fires burning across the village and the constant roar of combat. For a moment, Isaac doubted that it would even make a difference if Zach played a song, because there was no way that it could carry. However, he forced himself to not think about that, and instead devote his attention to finding the moogle.

Isaac's ears twitched slightly, and he turned sharply to look. His eyes picked out a small pocket of defenders who were sheltered in a natural alcove that the trees made in the wall. Isaac angled himself towards them, titling his shoulders to turn. As he approached, his ears again heard the odd, harmonious notes of a bow on a string above the chaos of the battle.

Soon, Isaac was able to see the situation in more detail. There were three defenders left, including Zach. The moogle was hanging back, playing his violin and causing as much chaos in the enemy's ranks as possible while his two partners held them back.

Suddenly, as Isaac looked on in horror, an arrow seemed to sprout from the neck of one of the two out front. He stumbled back, still swinging his katana, and crumpled to the earth in a heap. His partner turned, slashing out with his sword to try and fill the space his partner had left open. He raised his shield to block an attack coming at him from the other direction. As his arms were held far apart, blocking several attacks, one soldier lunged forward, stabbing her rapier through his chest.

He managed to remain standing for a few seconds more, despite the look of shock on his face, and actually cut down another enemy before the wound dragged him down so that he wouldn't rise again.

The soldiers began rushing forward to finish Zach, and the moogle stumbled back, the bow falling from his violin for an instant.

Isaac raised his gunblade, and began firing like mad. He went through a full round, and didn't stop moving as he let the empty clip drop into the masses below and slammed another one in. He kept firing, and soon there was such a mass of confusion and fighting in front of the animist that Isaac couldn't even see him.

Isaac dropped down to the earth near where he thought he'd seen Zach, and ducked under legs and around fighting soldiers until he found the animist. Zach looked much worse for wear; there was a shallow cut on his left leg, and his right eye was going black and swelling up. Right now, he looked totally confused, watching the fighting soldiers in front of him, and the moogle that seemed to have just appeared beside him.

"Zach!" Isaac said, trying to catch his breath. The moogle looked at him, somewhat lost in his surprise. Isaac couldn't really blame him. "I need your help, kupo."

Zach stared at him for a couple of seconds, then said, "Who are you, kupo?"

"My name's Isaac; I was with Ben when he arrived here, kupo."

"I think I remember seeing you…"

"Look, I don't have much time, kupo," Isaac said, glancing over his shoulder at the chaos he had caused. "Do you know the ability that calls chocobos?"

"Chocobo Rush?" Zach asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Of course, it's an essential part of any combat animist's arsenal. Why, kupo? There aren't any chocobos anywhere near the Koringwood."

"I can't explain right now," Isaac said, beginning to turn now to face the soldiers. The chaos in their ranks was lessening, and they were beginning to face the moogles again. "I just need you to play that song as loud as you can, kupo. I'll protect you; just play the song."

"But why, kupo?"

"Just do it," Isaac snapped, glaring over his shoulder at the other moogle. Zach looked genuinely scared, particularly by Isaac's sudden aggression. However, Isaac didn't have time to feel sorry for him; things were about to get ugly. "Look, I promise I'll explain later. Play it, and I'll make sure that neither of us die."

Zach stared a moment longer, then nodded slowly. "If you say so."

With that, Zach put his bow to the string, and began playing. For some reason, the music was much louder than it had been before. Isaac assumed that it was some sort of animist ability to amplify their music, but didn't give it much more thought than that. The soldiers had finally stopped fighting, and were now facing the two of them with highly aggressive looks.

Sighing, Isaac slipped the Avuir Blue back into its sheath. He pressed a button on the gunblade attachment, and the add-on slipped off easily. He slid it onto the Avuir Red's hilt, and pressed a second button to clamp it shut around the red weapon. Then, he drew that one out, and held it ready.

"Well, kupo?" he demanded, glaring around at the soldiers, "are you going to just stare at me all day, or do you want to attack?"

For a few breaths, there was no movement. It seemed that all of the soldiers were too busy trying to decide whether this odd moogle was a major threat or not. He seemed to have just appeared out of nowhere, preventing them from making their kill.

Then, one soldier, a bangaa, advanced confidently on the moogle. He held a heavy greatsword in his hands, and the way he moved with it suggested a certain amount of comfort with the heavy weapon.

Isaac lunged forward before the bangaa had a chance to make a proper attack. When he was about three steps away from him, the surprised bangaa managed to a sloppy chop at the charging moogle, trying to bring his weight to bear on the smaller opponent.

Isaac simply jumped, then landed with one foot perched on the broad weapon's falt side. He leaned forward, and swept his blade forward.

Just before the weapon would have cloven the bangaa's head in two, he turned his weapon, using it to instead slap into the side of his face. Isaac quickly hopped up, taking his weight off of his opponent's weapon even as the bangaa was knocked senselessly to the side.

The moogle landed from his quick battle, and glanced up at the soldiers again, holding his weapon ready.

This time, the soldiers were smarter. Having seen how completely their partner had been defeated, they realised that the plan of attacking the moogle one at a time wouldn't work. So, instead, they rushed him this time, all of them converging on his position at once.

Isaac started moving before any of them had taken their first step. He fired his gun at a soldier coming at his side, and the viera simply froze in mid-stride. Knowing that no opponents would be able to get at him from that side, Isaac twirled, blocking an attack from a knife. A rapier lunged in at his side, and he ducked under it. Stepping quickly towards the attacking viera's form, he hooked one his legs behind both of hers, and performed a quick trip.

He came back around, swiping his blade out wide to keep any opponents at bay. As he finished his swipe, Isaac saw that a moogle was about to get by him. Isaac didn't move but to pull his trigger, sending a charmshot the other moogle's way.

Knowing that he didn't have the time, Isaac didn't wait to see if his attack landed. He would have to trust to his skills and assume all of his strategies would go off without a single hitch. Instead he returned to the few soldiers coming at him now. The first was a white monk who simply made a direct punch at Isaac's head. He stepped around the strike, and managed to lay his weapon's edge against the back of one of the monk's legs. He made a quick slice; not deep enough to cause permanent damage, but plenty deep enough to keep him off his feet for a while.

Turning from the collapsing bangaa, Isaac raised the Avuir Red to block a strike coming at him from a human fighter. The pair exchanged several quick attacks and blocks, before Isaac put a bit more weight behind one strike. The blow knocked the fighter's blade out of position, and Isaac punched forward, smashing the amethyst pommel of the blade into the human's temple. The fighter dropped like a stone, and Isaac went at his next opponent.

The palace's soldiers kept pushing forward, and Isaac would continue to knock them unconscious, freeze them, or disarm them. Very seldom did he draw blood, and those few times it was simply to disable his opponent for a while. In many ways, it worked to his advantage. With so many of his opponents being forced to retreat rather than just dropping at his feet, the flow of new enemies was heavily restricted.

Throughout it all, Isaac was aware of Zach's music, moving along at a frantic pace. It reminded Isaac of the fiddle music Jacqueline had always liked. After some time, the moogle could feel himself loosening up, and allowing the music to dictate how he moved. Perhaps it was his weakness from loss of blood, or some magic inlaid with the song, but it seemed to carry Isaac along with it.

Occasionally, he would manage to cast a glance upwards to check on the battle between Maxwell and Ben. It seemed as though the pair was slowly moving downwards; it was now possible to see a few more details as they leapt from tree to tree. That said, they were still quite a ways up, and there was no way that Isaac could go and join in without abandoning Zach to certain death.

So, Isaac kept up his act of dodging and attacking, leaving a constantly expanding pile of unconscious soldiers all around him. Isaac was dimly aware of a wind beginning to whip up around them, but he ignored it. If anything, it seemed to make the soldiers even more uneasy and hesitant, which could only be a good thing. For some reason, Isaac kept finding himself nearly tripping over his feet, or his finger slipping on the trigger. It must have been the blood loss finally catching up with him.

On top of that, the moogle was running dangerously low on bullets. He had already used up all of the prepared clips he had, so he could only reload now whenever he had time to slip a couple of bullets into a free clip.

Isaac fought on, and the wind continued to grow around him. Soon, it was whipping at such a force that Isaac was forced to raise an arm to keep it from blowing his fur into his eyes. The wind shouldn't have been this strong. What was happening?

The moogle brought the pommel of the Avuir Red down into the back of an attacking moogle's head, and looked to his enemies. Strangely, none of them were advancing anymore. Now, they simply watched him, with an odd look of fear in their eyes.

Then, suddenly, all of them seemed to waver for an instant in Isaac's vision as the wind grew sharply in force. The moogle was forced to take a step back in surprise, trying to understand what was happening. How had such a strong wind kicked up so suddenly? It was too much for natural weather, and even a master sage would have trouble summoning so much. So how could it be here, unless—

Isaac's eyes widened, and he spun around to face Zach. The moogle was still playing his violin, oblivious to the roaring wind around him or Isaac's confusion. As the mog knight came around to face him, his paw went down, and he laid one of his fingers along the hilt of the Avuir Blue.

The wind suddenly stopped pulling so much, and all of the billowing branches and roaring dimmed. Isaac barely even noticed this though, as suddenly, semi-transparent from the illusion, a black figure appeared behind the animist.

"Zach!" Isaac roared, taking a step forward.

The animist glanced up, surprised. "Wha—?"

There was a horrid, wet noise as the dark shape behind Zach moved suddenly. Then, without a word, Zach's body dropped, blood splashed forward, and his head rolled until it came to a stop at Isaac's feet.

The moogle's breath came heavily as his eyes moved slowly from Zach's head, to his decapitated body, to the katana dripping with his blood, to Khorin who held it.

"You left in the middle of our fight," the human muttered, straightening his back out. "That's impolite."

"You just…" the moogle stopped, staggering back. "You killed him, kupo!"

"It's a war," the human shrugged. "What did you expect?"

Isaac simply stared. It was too much. The fighting, the running, the blood loss; it was all taking its toll. Instead of speaking, he just shook his head at the human.

"You can't win here, mogknight," Khorin whispered. He took a step back, and looked Isaac up and down. "I've already dispatched some of my best archers to take down the beastmasters outside; after they're gone, my men will overwhelm all of you. I won't lie, getting the animist to call the chocobos was a good plan. You might have just saved your other friends there. But you don't stand a chance anymore. It ends now."

Isaac looked at him for a few seconds, trying to reorganize his thoughts. Finally, he spoke.

"You know, kupo," Isaac whispered, "there is one way…"

Khorin's smile widened. "What way is that?"

"If I can defeat you, this will all be over."

"And what if I've trained my men better than that?"

"It's worth a shot."

Suddenly, both of them lunged, and their weapons met in a shower of sparks. Isaac jumped back, and Khorin pressed the attack. The soldiers spread out around them, not wanting to get in the way. As Isaac backed up and Khorin advanced, the fighting around them would pause. All the soldiers recognised their commander, and most of the defenders of New Cyril recognised Isaac from the group that had accompanied Ben. Soon, all fighting had stopped, and a wide circle opened up around the two as they fought.

Isaac was on the defensive, but he managed to hold his own. He ducked beneath a double slash, and came back up, lunging.

Khorin brought one of his katana back and knocked the attack far to the left. He brought his other katana out further, cutting at Isaac. However, the moogle had moved with his deflected attack, ducking and spinning so that the katana went harmlessly high. As he came back around, he stood up straight, raising his blade in a slash upwards. His eyes scrunched up for a moment, and lightning burst out along the length of the blade.

Khorin, who had been about to block the attack, instead jumped sideways and out of its path. Knowing that Isaac would take a moment to recover from the awkward attack, the human lowered his shoulder and rushed Isaac. The attack hit Isaac in the chest, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him airborne.

The moogle's wings flared out from instinct more than anything, stopping his momentum. He dove forward through the air, slashing down with the Avuir Red. Khorin executed a two-katana block, then pulled one weapon back to strike.

For several moments, then, they simply remained their and traded blows. The weapons were no more than grey and red blurs, smashing off of each other and screaming their wielders' rage.

With every strike, though, Isaac would be pushed back an inch or two through the air. Try as they might, his wings alone couldn't hold their own against the pressure of the attacks. If things kept up like this, Khorin would be able to use his greater reach to put him at a disadvantage.

So, after blocking a two-weapon chop, Isaac stopped flapping. The force of the attack threw him back several feet, and he landed easily on his feet. His legs bunched for a moment, and then launched him towards the ninja again.

Isaac made a direct swipe, and Khorin blocked it easily. The ninja brought his other katana down for a low sweep at Isaac's legs. The moogle, knowing he couldn't pull his blade away from the first katana to block the second, instead jumped. As he went up, he pulled away from his block, and tucked, going into a backflip.

Khorin, however, seemed to have predicted this. As soon as Isaac was up in the air, he took a step forward. Then, he snapped his head forward at the airborne moogle. His forehead smashed into Isaac's back just as he reached the apex of his jump.

Isaac was thrown forward several metres, tumbling through the air. He was completely surprised by the unorthodox attack, and as such he didn't prepare for the fall. He hit the ground hard, and tumbled across it before coming to a stop on his front.

He pushed himself up quickly, ignoring the few dozen scrapes and bruises he had just taken. Even as he began lifting and turning himself to face the ninja, though, he saw that he would be too slow. Khorin was already almost on top of him; there was no way he could muster up a block in the short time he had.

Suddenly, not a metre from Isaac, Khorin looked up, and his eyes widened. He jumped back quickly, and raised both katana to block.

A form dropped between him and Isaac quite suddenly, appearing in a flash of blue light and billowing cloth. A pair of sabres came down and smashed into the katana, sending a shower of sparks scattering from the edges.

Everything stood still as Isaac stared at this figure that must have been Ben. He had trouble wrapping his head around it, though. This looked very little like his friend. Blue light was cascading out of him, flowing every inch of his skin. The sleeves of his dirty blue cloak were torn off just above the elbows. These revealed short red fur that went from the tips of his clawed fingers all the way to the base of his forearms. A huge tear had been ripped from the base of the cloak's back up to the small of his back. Through this, Isaac could see Ben's legs, and how curiously he stood on them. He was up on the balls of his feet, and it looked almost like his stance had gone completely digitigrade from this angle.

For the moment that Isaac stared at Ben, two things crossed his mind. First, he wondered at how much Blue magic the human must have been using to warp himself this much.

Second, he wondered, seeing as Ben was here, where Max had gotten to.

Something clicked in his brain, and the moogle jumped to his feet, twirling to face the direction Ben had come in. He saw Maxwell plummeting towards them, his spear leading.

Isaac didn't blink as the dragoon thundered down at him. He waited until the last moment, then jumped. The spear's tip passed just beneath the feet, and the head buried itself deep into the soft earth. Maxwell looked somewhat surprised both at Isaac being there and at the moogle's dodge, but kept enough of his head about him to swing his blade around in his free hand.

Isaac landed his jump with both feet planted on the spear's shaft, and brought his own blade up.

Their weapons slammed into each other, and the cacophony of their contact rang into the otherwise silent clearing.

For a moment, none of the four of them moved, each one as surprised as the other at this sudden change in situations. Then, as one, they exploded into movement.

Maxwell ripped his spear out of the earth with a sharp tug, making Isaac lose his precarious balance on the weapon. Instead, the moogle jumped up, dodging another slash from the bangaa's blade in the process.

Behind Isaac, Ben and Khorin suddenly pulled out of their blocks and began moving. Their weapons began smacking off of each other, so quickly that it seemed as though the screeching of their contact was a single, uniform peal. Neither took a step forward or back, but each consciously leaned forward.

Isaac landed from his jump, and raised his blade to block a quarter-staff strike with the spear. He pushed up against it, throwing the weapon up a bit, then slashed at Maxwell's legs.

The dragoon jumped, and brought his blade down and across at Isaac's head.

The moogle dove sideways, rolling several metres before coming to his feet facing Maxwell. A moment later, Ben bent over backwards to dodge a stab from Khorin. He placed his hands on the ground and went back to a handstand. Khorin lunged in with his other katana, aiming for his side.

In response, Ben lifted one of his hands off of the ground, and threw himself sideways in a one-handed cartwheel. He landed on his feet, and backed up a couple steps so that he stood next to Isaac.

There was silence again after that as the four of them sized each other up. Isaac was surprised to see a short, thin scratch on Maxwell's neck. The moogle could barely believe it. It must have been from an attempt by Ben to slash the bangaa's throat.

This was serious. It was probably more serious than any of the fights Isaac had been in up until then. The other three; all of them were completely intent on killing each other. It wasn't even a question of possibility here; the winner would live, and the loser would die.

After several seconds of silence, a grin cracked Khorin's hard features, and the ninja whispered, "Well, I hope I won't be a third wheel in this battle. I could back off if you'd rather handle them on your own, Maxwell."

Before Ben or Isaac could fire off a sharp reply, the bangaa growled, "Shut up."

Khorin's eyes darkened for a moment as he glanced over at the dragoon. "You had better not be second-guessing here. Can I rely on you in this fight?"

Maxwell didn't even look at the ninja. First, his eyes flashed over Ben, sizing him up. Ben let out a small growl as they stared at each other, but beyond that made no reaction.

Then, Maxwell looked over to Isaac, letting his eyes settle on him. Isaac couldn't help but swallow. Was Maxwell even thinking about him as a person right now? Was he thinking about him as his friend? Or did he simply see a moogle with the power of Ultima; a target in need of elimination.

However, none of the moogle's features betrayed this. Instead, he tightened his grip on the Avuir Red, and raised it into a ready stance.

Maxwell nodded slowly, and then raised his own weapons. "Don't worry. You can rely on me."

"Good then," Khorin whispered, grinning as he looked at each of the three friends in turn. "In that case, let us begin."


	96. Arrows

A/N: Hey, all. Um, I'd just like to apologize for how obscenely long it took to write this chapter; however, if I had put in the extra effort to get this chapter up any earlier, I _would_ have failed at least two classes, if not three. Not might. Would. Either way, here it is, and here's to hoping that the next one doesn't take a month.

Oh, also, I've started working on an up-to-date character list in my profile. This is meant to only be read by those who are actually reading as I update. It will be updated with information from a given chapter as soon as the following chapter is published. So, for example, as of this chapter, any changes that occurred last chapter would be updated. Yeah, so, I hope that helps out, and I'll try to get it fully up and corrected ASAP.

---

As soon as the words were out of Khorin's mouth, all four of them dashed forward, keeping in stride with each other.

A couple of steps before all of them would have met, Isaac stopped suddenly, raising his gunblade. He pulled the trigger, aiming carefully for Khorin's feet. The ninja was forced to slow his pace somewhat to dodge the couple shots, and Maxwell pulled ahead alone.

Ben met him in the middle, holding both sabres readied to strike. Max, using his reach advantage, lunged with his spear to get the mage back. The human jumped to the side, getting just out of the weapon's path. Seeing his opponent on the retreat, Max shifted his grip on the spear's shaft, spinning it in a strike at Ben's side.

At that moment, Isaac stepped in, bringing his red blade up in a hard strike on the spear. The force of the attack managed to push Maxwell's spear up high of Ben, giving the mage a chance to lunge in and strike at the dragoon's exposed side.

Maxwell moved quickly, spinning his spear's head around with the force of Isaac's strike, and just managed to get the weapon in the way of the two sabres. Although the block was solid, not wavering in the slightest as the weapons slammed into it, the manoeuvre had thrown Maxwell heavily off-balance, and left his other side open to Isaac.

The moogle was about to strike, when suddenly a pair of katana seemed to appear in front of him. Isaac growled and jumped back out of Khorin's way, barely avoiding the unexpected attack. As Maxwell righted himself and began a dizzying series of spear attack routines aimed at Ben, Isaac squared off with Khorin again. The ninja looked to be greatly enjoying himself; perhaps he could tell that Isaac was beginning to weaken. Whatever it was, the moogle knew that it couldn't be good.

The human lunged forward, sending a quick flurry of alternating stabs at Isaac. The moogle backed off, trying to dodge more than he parried. After a few steps backwards, Isaac managed to slow Khorin's momentum just enough for him to slash out with a mog lance at the ninja.

Khorin simply leaned his head slightly to the left, letting the streak of silver light pass him by. He brought his attention back to Isaac, and was slightly surprised to see that the moogle was already sending another attack at him. During their battle earlier, the moogle had always used mog lances in order to give him time to jump back or heal a bit; never to lead into an attack.

The ninja lowered a katana, blocking the moogle's slash. Again, he was surprised; this time by the weight behind the attack. It was a significant difference, especially considering how much more exhausted Isaac must have become since their fight. As Khorin backed up a step, blocking another strike, his eyes regarded the mogknight's movements carefully.

It really didn't make sense; it was almost like this was an entirely different moogle. His steps were heavier, and while lacking somewhat in grace, they made up for it in precision and form. His strikes were more direct, and seemed to rely more on force than on trickery.

His eyes drifted down to that red blade in Isaac's paws as it swiped forward again, forcing Khorin a step back. The ninja's sharp mind quickly recalled that previously, he'd been wielding a blue weapon. After that, it didn't take him long to put it together.

"You wield the Avuirs," he said abruptly, as he jumped over one of the moogle's slashes.

"I do," Isaac managed to grunt out, ducking a two-katana slash. He stood back up as the weapons passed by his head, and made a direct thrust at his opponent. "What of it, kupo?"

"Would that make you the heir of Lini the Mogknight?" Khorin asked, pulling his gut in and out of the Avuir Red's reach. He swept a katana forward, and knocked Isaac's weapon out of the way.

"I guess so." The force of the ninja's strike on his blade forced Isaac partly into a spin. Seeing the other katana coming at him while he was unbalanced, the moogle simply turned his spin into a roll forward across the ground. He came back up to his feet, and turned to meet the ninja's advance. "Why do you care?"

"I did my research on Lini and her weapons, moogle," Khoring said, throwing a series of quick slashes at Isaac and forcing him back. As he pushed relentlessly forward, he continued between short gasps. "I knew that using any magic on her while she was holding the blue blade would be useless, because it gave her a certain resistance. However, when holding the red weapon…"

Isaac never learned if Khorin finished that sentence. At that moment, a bright light exploded all around Isaac, and the most intense and painful heat he'd ever felt coursed through him. A roaring filled his ears, and every muscle in the moogle's body snapped. The resulting force threw him back several metres, landing heavily in a smouldering heap.

He pushed himself painfully up to a kneeling position, and raised his head to look around. His eyes widened at the sight.

All across New Cyril, massive bolts of lightning were raining down from the sky. The ground shook with the impacts, and thunder roared from every direction. Much more odd, though, to Isaac, was that everybody seemed to have disappeared; he had expected to see people scurrying about, trying to find cover from the constant streams of electricity dropping down.

It took Isaac about a second to realise that it was all an illusion, and he growled in annoyance when he did. Without the Avuir Blue in his paw, it was harder to tell. He began pushing himself up, then jumped back as another bolt slammed into the earth just in front of him. The moogle landed awkwardly, and was forced to stagger back a step.

This, as it turned out, saved his life. As he began moving back, there was a sudden stab of pain from his mid-section. Isaac cried out as the pain dragged across his chest, and blood welled up from a slash that had just appeared. Fortunately, his movement had pulled him back enough that it didn't cause any major injuries. That said, it still stung like a monster.

The added wound caused the moogle to trip as he landed, and he fell back hard into a sitting position. The pain in his chest throbbed deeper as he landed, the fall having aggravated it. Isaac gritted his teeth and raised his blade blindly, hoping that by some coincidence the Avuir Red would intercept the next strike.

Then, just as quickly as the illusion had appeared, it was gone. The dark sky brightened, the earth stopped shaking, and the blasts of lightning halted. All of the burns Isaac had received from the lightning faded, though the bumps and scratches he'd gotten from his falls remained. The moogle glanced around, trying to find the reason behind this. It didn't take him long.

Just before him, Khorin was throwing his head back in a cry of pain, staggering away from the moogle. Dark shadows were exploding from the earth and flooding over him, seeming to consume him in their glare. Wherever the darkness touched, deep burn marks would appear over the ninja's skin. His clothing tore in places under the pressure, and as the force of the blackness increased, the human was lifted off of his feet and thrown to the ground.

As Isaac watched this, he tried to recall where he'd seen something like this before. It had definitely happened at some point during his adventures, but when…

Eyes widening, the moogle turned to stare over at Ben and Maxwell. The two of them were a few metres away. Ben held his sabres crossed over his head, blocking a strike from Maxwell's spear. The bangaa, however, was too busy staring at the mage to put any force into the strike.

The same torrent of darkness that had engulfed Khorin was dancing over Ben's skin as well, accompanied by a shower of blue sparks. Even from there, Isaac could see that the fur on the human's hands had disappeared, to be replaced by waxy, white skin. His eyes were closed in concentration, having difficulty controlling the spell.

However, this clearly had nothing to do with any pain that the spell was causing him. Quite the contrary; whenever the darkness passed over a bruise or a cut on the human's form, that injury would quickly fade away into nothingness, leaving unblemished skin behind.

Everything was silent as the Blue mage finished the spell, allowing the blackness to diminish until it was completely gone. The pale skin on his hands was quickly lost beneath a new layer of red fur, and the human finally opened his glowing eyes to look up at Maxwell.

The two of them stood there, staring at each other for a moment as everybody else in the village looked on. Finally, Maxwell whispered. "Where did you learn that spell?"

"Don't you remember?" Ben demanded, glaring at the bangaa. "I picked it up a long time ago from a vampire named Tarantalas."

Maxwell's breath caught in his throat for a second, and the large dragoon stumbled. Ben didn't move to take advantage of the moment of weakness; he simply stared on. The bangaa managed to get his breathing back under control, and stared down at Ben again.

The two of them jumped back, suddenly, then they each took quicksteps forward as their weapons met. Max made a direct thrust, and Ben brought both sabres down to knock it low. He used his pressure on the spear's pole to let him jump up and throw a kick at the bangaa's face.

Max quickly took one hand off of the spear, and raised it to block the kick. Ben jumped back quickly, ducking under a swing from the spear. As he stood back up, he took a deep breath, and rocked his shoulders back.

As he leaned back forward, his face began deforming, twisting as tentacles grew out seemingly at random and his teeth sharpened to points. He opened his mouth, and a jet of acid burst from between his lips, aiming for Maxwell's face.

The dragoon seemed not at all phased. He simply opened his own mouth, expelling breath that turned into a thick blue mist. As the acid passed through the mist, it gained weight and definition, gradually forming up into a single solid lump.

Maxwell twirled his spear, and knocked the frozen batch of acid out of the air. As he looked up, he saw that Ben was already charging in at him.

He took a deep breath, and suddenly, a dark aura gathered about his spear, centring on the bladed tip. Isaac, seeing it, called out, trying to alert Ben.

The Blue mage, however, wouldn't have had time to dodge even if he'd heard. He was too far into his charge, and was carrying too much momentum to simply stop.

Maxwell's spear came up and forward, far faster than anybody's eyes could follow. A soft path of darkness was left in its wake, leading down to the tip embedded in Ben's chest.

The mage stopped abruptly, wheezing. His hands remained clamped tightly to the sabres' hilts, but his legs staggered as he tried to keep himself standing.

Maxwell stared on, a horrified expression on his face. His head was slowly shaking, and his eyes were blinking rapidly. His sweaty palms shook upon the spear's pole, and it took everything he had to not drop it.

Slowly, Ben's head turned in Isaac's direction. All of his movements were jerky, and his eyes seemed unsteady as they focused on the moogle.

Isaac felt all of his strength leave him as the mage finally looked fully upon him. He didn't realise that he was shaking until he felt the Avuir Red's hilt slapping against his paw. It couldn't… no, not yet…

And then Ben winked.

Without any further indication, the mage spun around to face Maxwell again. One of his sabres smashed into the spear, knocking it out to the side, as he lunged forward in a direct stab with the other weapon.

The bangaa just barely managed to tilt his head back in time, and he still received a scratch along his face as the weapon passed by. The force of his impromptu dodge was too great for Maxwell to pull out of, so he simply let himself fall back, planting his hands on the ground and doing a short handspring backwards.

As he landed, he glanced up at Ben, his eyes hard. The human stood easily, not in the least bit pained. He regarded the dragoon with a look of slight satisfaction, which only widened when Maxwell's gaze lowered slightly to stare at the human's chest.

"How?" Maxwell demanded.

In response, Ben reached up to the dark black shirt covering his torso. He grabbed onto the bit that had been torn open by Maxwell's attack, and pulled sharply.

As the cloth came free, it revealed a series of interlaced and interconnected white objects, covering his entire chest. It took Isaac a moment to identify all of them as bones. All of them had been carefully selected to fit into the other pieces, and run tightly over his body without restricting his movement too much. As Ben stretched his back slightly, the bones moved with him as though they were part of him.

"I salvaged this little number from Jagd Cyril a couple years ago," Ben muttered, settling back down into a fighter's stance. "I figured it would be useful if I ever had to use shadow flare or fight another vampire."

"A bone plate, eh?" Khorin's voice said. Isaac started, and turned to face the man. He had managed to get up to his feet, and while he looked far worse for wear, he was steady as he watched the unfolding events. Both of the katana were still in his hands, and he tapped one gently against his leg as he said, "That complicates things, doesn't it, Maxwell? Would you like me to take that one down while you finish the moogle?"

Max rounded on him, glaring. "Ben doesn't have to die."

"Oh really? I'm sorry; I thought it was you who just tried to impale him."

Max stopped at that, backing down slighty. He glanced over at Ben, and the mage held his gaze. Then he turned to look at Isaac. The moogle did his best to keep his eyes steady as he watched Max, but it wasn't easy through the pain of his several injuries.

"I'm letting you choose which one you get to kill, Maxwell," Khorin grinned, enjoying the obvious conflict on the dragoon's face. "I can guarantee that whoever you leave to me will find a much longer and more painful ending."

All throughout the village there was silence. Everybody was still staring at the four fighters, and it seemed as though nobody had breathed as all of it went on. Maxwell, standing at the centre of the group with his shoulders bowed, had never looked so old to Isaac or Ben.

Finally, he let his breath out very slowly, the slightest hint of a hiss accompanying it. "Fine. I—"

Whatever he said next was lost amidst the ringing of metal. Both Isaac and Ben had charged forward, and by a mixture of instinct and incredible luck Maxwell managed to raise his spear so that he was blocking their attacks on either end of the weapon.

Isaac increased the pressure on his end of the spear, raising that side upward and pushing it lower by Ben. This allowed the mage the chance to jump over the weapon and sweep his sabres out at Max, attacking high.

Both of his weapons were blocked as Khorin stepped up alongside the mage, intercepting the sabres with katana. Without breaking pace, both of them spun away from Isaac and Maxwell, their weapons dancing around them. Very rarely did the four swords meet each other; more often than not they were being jabbed forward in feints rather than actual strikes. The few attacks that they made would be promptly dodged, as both remained in constant motion.

Meanwhile, Isaac and Maxwell were both taking advantage of the space they were afforded by having their partners back off. The two were circling each other from only a few paces apart, Isaac's blade and Maxwell's spear each trembling slightly with anticipation.

Suddenly, as one, they each lunged forward, weapons leading. Isaac smashed the spear's head out of his way, then twirled while extending his paw to bring the blade in at Maxwell's exposed flank.

Maxwell jumped over the attack, and brought his spear down on his landing to intercept the backswing. He spun his weapon like a quarterstaff, and leaned forward to use his size to his advantage.

Isaac grunted under his breath, stepping backwards. It was the first of many, as he found himself giving more and more ground to the great bangaa. The vibrations running up his arm were beginning to cause sharp pains in his wrist, and he found that he had to let some of the blows partially through in order to keep his blade from being wrenched from his grasp. He began staggering slightly on his steps back, and it was clear from his breathing that keeping up this level of combat was beginning to take its toll.

Maxwell pressed his advantage, seeing how exhausted Isaac was. Soon, the crowd watching them was forced to part to let the two through, as Isaac backed up further and further.

The moogle knew what was happening; the bangaa would try to back him into the city's wall, where he would have no more room to back up. Then, he could simply stand back and use his reach to fight Isaac with no risk to himself, essentially pinning the moogle until he slipped up or dropped from exhaustion.

And then, suddenly, they were at the wall. It happened far sooner than either had expected; both of them had been so involved in their back and forth that they'd lost track of where exactly they were. Both of them realized it as suddenly the earth got steeper for a couple steps, and then Isaac's heel scraped against the bark of a tree.

Seizing his chance, Maxwell lunged forward, hoping for a quick finish. Isaac just managed to throw himself to the side, the spear managing to catch on his jacket and tear partially through the fabric. The head collided with the wood, and a few chips splintered off from the old tree.

Isaac hit the ground and rolled back to his feet, swiping out with his blade to intercept another attack. There was a short scrap between the two as they each sent their weapons out several times in quick succession to attack and parry. However, neither of them managed to strike, and eventually, Maxwell backed off to regain his footing in preparation for another assault.

Isaac had been waiting for this opportunity. He twitched his paw slightly, so that the tip of the Avuir Red was pointing towards Maxwell's hand. He fed the growing paralysis he was feeling into the bullet, and pulled the trigger.

Max let out a slight grunt as the bullet clipped off of his knuckles, but didn't think any more of it for a few moments. However, when he felt his hand beginning to go numb and lose its grip on his spear, he glanced down in alarm. The limb didn't look hurt; really, the bullet had done no more damage than a paper ball. However, the stopshot it was imbued with had done its work on his hand. It hadn't been powerful enough to knock out his entire nervous system, but it was far from ineffective.

Maxwell growled, releasing his grip on the spear completely with both hands. It would be too difficult to wield it with only one hand. He glanced up, and saw that Isaac was preparing to jump forward in a strike at him.

Barely even thinking, the bangaa's good hand clamped around the hilt of the Materia Blade at his side. He drew it out, and even as Isaac began bunching up his legs, the bangaa was lunging forward.

As his foot hit the ground on his first step, the noise around the pair of them seemed to die, and an odd wind kicked up in the clearing. It was odd because it didn't just pass through; it swirled in from the outside, being drawn inevitably closer to Maxwell's weapon. Soon, light was bending with the wind and the sound, and Maxwell brought the Materia Blade forward, a full charge of Ultima prepared on its length.

Upon seeing it, Isaac stumbled back, opening his mouth to cry out silently. He was too close to dodge, now, and there was no way he could repel Ultima. Was this how it would end, then? Struck down, almost as history necessitated it, by another wielder of his power? Just another casualty in the great war between two factions, never to know who won or lost?

Isaac took a deep breath, then set his gaze as he fell back to the earth. He watched Maxwell's eyes as the bangaa took his last step in, raising the blade to strike.

And it was as their eyes met that for one instant that Maxwell's resolve faltered. When he saw those dark orbs staring at him, the same ones that he'd known for so long, and that he was sure read him a thousand times better than he could ever read them, all of the things that he kept telling himself wavered. His actions defending his friends, defending the bangaas, defending Ivalice for the past five years in this land; it all became a meaningless sham.

Maxwell's hand came down, but even as he roared out, "Ultima!" the weapon was turning in his grip, his arm moving the slash away from Isaac's form.

The Materia Blade bit into the trunk of one of the trees forming the wall behind Isaac, and the force of the blast of Ultima discharged out from that point. Light exploded as the energy slashed forward in the shape of a blade, cleaving straight through several of the trees' trunks. There was a horrendous crunching as all of the trees lost their support at once, and then they began slipping down towards the earth.

As soon as they saw the result, all of the soldiers and defenders standing near that section of the wall began rushing to get away. There was a small stampede as humans tried to get away from the falling trees, and more than a few people were trampled during that great panic.

Isaac and Maxwell, however, didn't move. They both simply remained where they were, staring at each other in their surprise. Even as the great logs crashed to the earth about them, one of them barely missing the pair by a foot, they were both staring, their chests heaving.

Then, suddenly, a call from outside the hole that Maxwell had just made in the wall roused both of them. They turned, and their eyes fell upon the carnage of the battle that had been happening outside.

It seemed as though the beastmasters had been doing their jobs well; the monsters of the Koringwood had been slicing through the guards with little trouble, leaving a path of mauled and bloodied bodies in their wake. However, the archers that Khorin had mentioned to Isaac had also been busy. At least half of the beastmasters now lay on the ground, arrows pinning them like bugs in a display case. The beasts themselves, for all their ferocity, were being gradually pushed back, and had now formed into a tight defensive ring about the remaining beastmasters.

As the trees crashed into the ground, one of the beastmasters turned abruptly, her fingers still dancing along the length of her flute. To the surprise of both Isaac and Maxwell, they saw Grans, her features sharp and perceiving despite her focus on the music. She sized up the hole Maxwell had cleaved, at least six trees wide, then pulled her lips from the flute for a moment.

"Bring them back into the village! It's a better defensive position!"

Almost at once, a similar trill ran through each of the many strings of music echoing in the forest. There was a sudden shift in all of the beasts' movements, and they turned, making their way to the gap in the trees.

Seeing this new threat coming, all of the palace's soldiers near the gap began arming up, preparing for the attack. The few small pockets of defenders either dashed towards the hole to wait for the support, or began desperate attacks against the enemies where they stood to distract them.

And, so, in a few moments, the relative calm that had lain upon the entire clearing while the quartet had battled was destroyed. Both sides were calling for blood again, and weapons were rising.

At the centre of all this, Isaac and Maxwell kept staring at each other. Isaac slowly pushed himself up to his feet, and Maxwell shook out his limp hand to get the feeling back into it. The moogle's shaking paw replaced the clip in his gunblade, and Maxwell's foot hooked under the pole of his spear, kicking it up for him to catch.

"You can't go much longer, Isaac," the bangaa muttered, sizing him up.

"I'll go as long as I can, kupo."

"Please…" Maxwell pleaded. "I don't want to see you in pain. Just…"

"What, surrender myself to act as your sacrifice? If you want my lifeblood to stain this soil," the moogle raised the Avuir Red into a ready position, "you'll have to fight for every last drop."

The two of them sprang forward again, the force of both armies moving with them.

There was a war as both sides met; a cacophony of screams, weapons, and feet pounding the earth. The beastmasters and their monsters swarmed out of the small gap in the wall, the defenders within the city holding the way open for them. Grans' voice could be dimly heard above all of the combat, roaring orders, and getting the beastmasters to arrange their beasts to meet the charges coming from within and without the city walls. Soon, the air was full of noise, and it almost seemed as if everybody in the city was screaming in unison.

Isaac and Maxwell ignored all of it, though. Wherever they moved, it was as though a small bubble surrounded them, keeping others from intruding on their private duel. Neither of them could see where Ben and Khorin had gotten to, but to be fair, neither was watching too closely. Both were totally focused on the other, watching for every movement, every muscle twitch, every breath. They never stopped moving, going back and forth along the grass that was quickly growing red.

For all that the battle seemed equal, both knew that that was far from the case. Isaac was moving even slower now than he had before their last scuffle, and his actions were getting jerky. Even after having used Ultima, Maxwell was clearly in much better condition than Isaac.

The two of them traded blows for a few moments, the spear and the blade pinging off of each other. Isaac jumped back for a moment to breathe and regain his sweaty grip on the Avuir Red's hilt. His feet caught slightly on the earth, and he stumbled for a moment.

Maxwell seized upon the opportunity. He lunged forward, sending a fast series of strikes at the moogle. Isaac managed to erect a sloppy defence, but he was pushed back hard, his feet still unbalanced. He kept weaving his blade out in front of him, just managing to pick off Maxwell's strikes, but it was always a near thing.

Then, suddenly, the dragoon stopped. Isaac was so surprised by this that he didn't even try to pull back from a block he was throwing up. As a result, he overbalanced, and tumbled to the ground with the blade leading.

Isaac pushed himself up quickly, trying to get to his knees and possibly roll out of the way. His eyes turned on Maxwell, and he saw that the bangaa had leaned his torso back, and flames were already building in his mouth. Isaac tried getting his blade up and around, thinking that he could maybe deflect the attack with a mog lance, but it was too late: Maxwell was lunging forward, his jaws opening wide.

Just as the flames were about to spill forth and engulf Isaac, however, an odd sound rose on the wind. It was the soft, measured noise of a flute being played. The song sounded old; laced with age, and having seen many seasons of music and performance. Isaac barely even noted the soft sound, but as soon as it reached Maxwell's ears, the bangaa's eyes widened, and he stepped back in surprise. The fire died in his throat, and he began casting about himself, searching for the source of the noise.

Isaac stared at the dragoon for a few moments, watching as he wheeled about, occasionally growling and grabbing at his ear as though he could tear the noise out. His eyes kept flickering in and out of focus, going from tranquil, to enraged, to terrified, all in a matter of seconds.

Suddenly, Isaac realised that the sound that was driving Maxwell insane seemed to be coming from behind him. The moogle pushed himself up to his feet, and turned. To his surprise, he simply found Grans standing a few feet away from him, playing her flute with a look of practised calm on her face. The old nu mou was rocking back and forth slowly on the balls of her feet, keeping time and nodding her head as her fingers danced along the small instrument.

It took Isaac a few seconds before he realised what was happening. He looked back to Maxwell, and watched him thrashing about in confusion as all about him, the nearest soldiers took careful steps back. Maxwell had told all of them that his gift from Adrammalech had been to become slightly more dragon and slightly less bangaa. It was clear from some of their fights thus far that there had been some significant physical modifications made to him; so, it made sense that a spell used to control dragons would have a slight effect on him as well.

Throughout all of this, the bangaa was still growling and tossing his head, his consciousness seeming to slip constantly between his own and that of a dragon. A large circle was opening up around him, now, as more and more people noticed the draconic leader losing his grip. Every once in a while, his eyes would come back into focus long enough for him to take a predatory step towards Isaac and Grans, but those never lasted longer than a second.

Eventually, Grans nudged Isaac with her foot in the midst of her playing. He glanced up at her, and she nodded to his blade, then up at Maxwell. She kept playing, and Isaac took a couple of seconds to figure out what she meant.

Then it hit him.

He stared down at the blade in his paw.

He looked back up at Maxwell, holding his head and twitching slightly in the middle of the clearing.

He watched the bangaa for several long seconds, his paw feeling slick on the golden hilt. It almost felt like it would simply slip out of his grip if a breeze pushed it.

Then, his paw tightened again, and he took a deep breath.

He slid the blade back into its sheathe at his side, and whispered, "I can't do this, kupo."

Grans looked over at him, and to the moogle's surprise, she didn't look shocked or angry. As her eyes glanced him up and down, there was almost a look of… approval? Was that possible?

The two of them stood, looking at each other for a while after that, even as all the fighting raged on around them, and battle cries and bestial roars filled the air. The entire world seemed to be moving separately from the two of them, like they were locked in an observation deck surveying time happening about them.

"Thank you," Isaac whispered, nodding to the old nu mou.

Her wrinkled eyes smiled at him, and she nodded back.

Suddenly, a roaring drew their attention back Maxwell's way. A blue light erupted from the crowd of soldiers opposite them, and then Ben was breaking through the line, his sabres spinning and slicing into the palace's forces. As he pulled through into the open space, they saw three of the nearest soldiers' necks explode in sprays of red, dropping to the ground.

The mage glanced up as he got out of the crowd, clearly trying to clear his head of his beast side's bloodlust. As his eyes rose, glowing blue, they focused on Maxwell for a moment. Then, they flicked past Maxwell, focusing on Grans playing the flute.

It took the Blue mage far less time to figure out what was going on than it took Isaac. He began running towards Maxwell, both of his sabres held ready to strike. Small drops of blood flicked from their tips as he crossed the open area, not slowing for an instant. A new tear in his shirt billowed open, showing a long gash running from just below his right shoulder to his hip. It didn't slow him as he closed with the bangaa, though.

Behind him, Khorin leapt out from the crowd, hot on his trail. He looked up, and his eyes picked out what was happening just as quickly as Ben had. He began moving as well; however, instead of going to Maxwell or attempting to cut Ben off, he turned and headed dead for Isaac and Grans.

As he ran, the ninja slapped his hands together, then pointed them quickly at Ben. As he turned back on Isaac and Grans, the grass around Ben's feet reared up, coiling into tight vines and wrapping about the mage's feet. Ben stumbled as he stopped dead, and glanced down, growling.

Khorin closed on Isaac and Grans, both of his katana already slashing forward. Isaac stepped forward between the two, drawing the Avuir Blue and parrying the blow. He moved to block the next attack, but by now, after all of the fighting he'd been through, the moogle was far too slow. Both katana smashed down low on his blade, ripping it from his grasp. Khorin took another step forward, and, not bothering to line up for a proper slash, simply slammed his elbow into Isaac's gut.

The moogle bent over, wheezing, and Khorin ran by, heading straight for Grans. The nu mou jumped back as best she could, and she almost succeeded. The slash that had been coming for her missed her body; however, it still managed to cleave through the end of her flute.

The music died abruptly with a screech, and Grans staggered back, letting the ruined instrument fall to the ground. She grabbed her whip, and her hand flashed forward as she cracked it at the ninja's head.

Khorin sidestepped the attack, then spun, bringing one of his katana down on the tanned leather as hard as he could. For a moment, it seemed the weapon would hold. A moment later, though, the steel passed through, and Grans fell back again, now completely weaponless.

The ninja was about to advance on her again, when Isaac slammed into his side. The moogle hadn't had the time to draw the Avuir Red, so instead he simply tackled the human as best as he could, slamming his elbow into Khorin's side.

Khorin barely even staggered at the blow. It was almost like Isaac had run into one of the trees that circled New Cyril, for all Khorin's reaction. He tried pushing harder, but suddenly, he felt something around his neck. The pressure on his throat increased suddenly, and he wheezed as Khorin slammed him into the ground.

As Isaac struggled at the hand around his neck, Khorin glanced over his shoulder at Ben and Maxwell, still standing in the middle of the clearing. Maxwell still looked confused, though the haze over his eyes was lifting, and Ben had just about torn free of the vines.

He smirked, then pointed at the bangaa.

More vines shot up from the ground and grabbed around Maxwell's legs. He glanced down in surprise, and suddenly, they pulled him to the ground. He struggled for a few moments, but eventually he was lain out, helpless on the earth.

Khorin looked up into the trees, and Isaac, squirming beneath him for breath, followed his gaze. The ninja made a small gesture, and something in the trees moved. Isaac tried to get his oxygen-deprived brain to focus, and he just caught sight of an archer, lining up a shot on his bowstring.

Isaac's eyes widened, and he looked around as best as he could in his position, still kicking feebly at Khorin's arm and chest. He could suddenly see dozens of archers, all perched in the treetops, with arrows at their strings.

The moogle gasped, and began clawing with his bare paws at the ninja's forearm. Khorin turned to look down at him, and grinned.

"Watch and learn, moogle," he hissed, even as Isaac's struggles grew weaker beneath him. He leaned in close, so that he could gaze into the shaking eyes. "This is how you organize for a battle."

With that, he stood up slowly, still holding Isaac by his throat. Isaac dangled in the air, small gurgling noises starting to rise from his chest up to his mouth. The human turned him so that he could see Ben, still hacking away at the vines holding him down.

"Archers!" Khorin bellowed, raising an arm.

Isaac tried to scream, tried to kick, tried to wave his arms; tried to do anything that would draw Ben's attention and alert him to his imminent danger.

"Fire!" Khorin's arm fell.

Ben seemed to hear this, and looked up in surprise at the voice, just as a dozen arrows thudded into him from all sides.


	97. Ben and Maxwell

There was a moment of horrendous silence after the twang of bowstrings died. Everyone in the clearing had seen the sudden exchange, and those that had continued fighting throughout it had halted abruptly with the sharp sound of the arrows. All eyes were turned towards the pair in the centre of the clearing, staring at their motionlessness.

For a moment, Ben managed to remain standing. Perhaps it was the shock of the impact; or maybe one of the arrows had managed to sever a nerve and keep him from feeling the effects for a moment. So he stood there for a few long seconds, swaying on his feet.

Then, his legs buckled beneath him, and the mage dropped to his knees, his torso still swaying. The arrows sticking out of him showed how he shook, their fletches fluttering like leaves on a tree's branches. Blood began bubbling out from the holes, gathering around the arrows' shafts before dripping down to stain his clothing.

Maxwell had been lying just in front of him throughout all this, held to the ground by Khorin's vines. His chest hadn't moved the entire time, and his eyes remained fixed on the human above him. When Ben fell to his knees, however, the dragoon gave a pained roar, and sat up forcefully, tearing the vines from the ground. He reached out and seized the mage's shoulders, helping to hold him up, and stared at him.

Isaac watched all of this in rapt disbelief, his entire body seeming to go numb. He was barely aware of Khorin's hand tightening around his throat, or the ninja's words as he leaned forward to whisper in his ear, "You've lost this battle."

The moogle, beginning to lose consciousness from lack of air, couldn't find the force to deny the words. His eyes were still locked on his two friends, and a mist was gathering over his mind. It all felt so surreal; like a terrible dream haunting his sleep.

Then, a voice spoke. It wasn't a voice like any of them had heard before: it was low, gravelly, and filled with a great rage, held loosely in check by infinite wisdom. Though the voice spoke softly, its words were clear throughout the clearing, and almost painful in their clarity.

"It's not over."

Everybody took terrified steps back, and Maxwell jumped a bit as Ben looked slowly up. His face was contorted, partly in pain, partly in rage, but mostly in a terrifying portrayal of calmness. It was confusing and painful to look at for too long.

"Ben," Maxwell began, trying to make his voice show some of the relief he was feeling. "Thank—"

The mage's hand swept out, hitting Maxwell in the chest. The strike lifted the bangaa from the earth, throwing him back halfway across the clearing. He slammed hard into the ground, and rolled over several times before coming to a stop with his face in the bloody grass. As soon as he had finished moving, he balled up, wheezing and gasping in pain. When he finally managed to get his breathing back under control, he stared across the clearing at Ben, who had now managed to get to his feet.

He was shaking slightly, his feet completely unsure on the ground. He glanced down at the arrows sticking out of him, and reached up carefully to wrap his hand around one of their shafts. He grimaced slightly in pain, and growled deep in his throat. Then, he looked up, and he spoke in that terrifying voice again.

"I am the avatar of the humans," he said, his voice suddenly growing in volume until it rang off the walls of the village like thunder. Everybody recoiled, but it seemed like the humans were the most shaken by the words. Khorin even released his grasp on Isaac, letting the moogle drop to the ground. Isaac gasped for air, not moving for several seconds, but he managed to keep his gaze on Ben. He was now beginning to stand straighter, and the pain was leaving his face. "Power has been promised to me, and now I demand it. Mateus!" He yelled this, his voice growing even louder. The light filtering through the trees above was beginning to dim, and all the world had grown quiet apart from Ben's voice. He raised one fist into the air, an arrow sticking through the forearm, and opened the fingers. He yelled again. "Mateus! Your avatar calls you!"

And then, suddenly, the world grew dark. It wasn't gradual; it did not creep upon them, or seem to grow from the air around them. One moment, there was light, and the next, perfect darkness. Around him, Isaac could hear people moving about, and more than a few frightened whispers.

Isaac, however, paid them no attention. His eyes were still fixed on the point in the darkness that his friend had been occupying a moment before. As he watched in the darkness and waited, a cold tentacle of fear was working its way up the back of his spine, and his entire body was shaking. The way Ben had just spoken and moved… it reminded him of how Jacqueline had acted when he had found her at the heart of Exodus. And his words…

Dread was already flowing through the moogle as his paw slowly draped across the hilt of his blade. As weight flowed into his wrist, he groaned, realizing that he only had the Avuir Red with him. He'd dropped the blue weapon while fighting Khorin. Somehow, he had the feeling that he would soon want to be able to move quickly.

He shielded his eyes suddenly, as a bright light appeared amongst the darkness. There were a few gasps around him as Isaac blinked, trying to get his eyes acclimatized to the light. Soon, he could look at the figure without being overwhelmed. When he did, his eyes widened.

In the centre of the clearing there stood a human, enshrouded in a light that was almost blinding. It wore a large helm that covered much of its face, and curved out into two elaborate horns on either side of the head. The helm was wrought of some sort of murky bluish steel, and its edges curved and conformed to the human's body like a second skin. The helm left only the bottom half of the human's face revealed, showing pale white skin from just above the lips down to the base of the neck. There, a great set of armour, of a similar make and material as the helm, covered the rest of the human's form, concealing most details. The human carried a large polearm of some sort in the left gauntlet. Its length was probably greater than the human's height, and a pair of great axe heads adorned each end as perfect counterweights to each other.

The human looked up slowly, the pale and somehow effeminate face looking about the clearing at each of the soldiers gathered there. Each of them would take a step back as the human's gaze fell upon them, and many of the humans simply collapsed, shivering in fear.

Finally, that gaze turned down to Ben, and the mouth opened. A voice, thunderous and confusing, issued forth, and lost within that voice were the voices of millions, billions of others. Amongst them, Isaac could pick out Caitlin, Rolf, Marche, Khorin, and even Ben, each distinct sound seeming familiar for a moment before being washed away in the sea of other voices.

"You have called," the voices said, focusing on Ben. "Speak, and tell me what you demand."

Ben, oddly, despite the fact that he was the closest to the great human, didn't flinch or recoil. His eyes barely flickered as he stood there, still bleeding, and growled out, "You're Mateus, aren't you?"

"Yes," the figured nodded, its weapon twitching a bit behind its back.

"And you chose me to be your avatar," Ben said, slightly more hesitant this time.

"Yes."

"In that case," Ben muttered, "I need your power. I need it to fight."

Mateus seemed to shift a bit at this, looking curiously down at the human. It turned suddenly to look over first at Maxwell, fixing the bangaa with an eyeless gaze that made him scramble back a bit on the grass, then the helm moved to face Isaac.

The moogle found himself transfixed by the gaze, unable to move or turn at all. Though there were no eyes, he almost felt as if the totema's look sharpened when it saw him. Its grip tightened on the weapon, and Isaac could feel his paw flexing on the golden hilt of the Avuir Red.

The moment passed, though, and the helmet swung back around to Ben. It lowered slightly, and said, "Being chosen comes with both a gift and a curse. We Five chose our representatives independently, and assigned our gifts and curses likewise. _Your_ gift," It said, Its voice growing harder, "has already been given."

There was a moment of silence. Then, Ben whispered, "What?"

"Your gift has been with you since you first arrived in this land," Mateus went on. "The amount of wild energy contained within you is far more than any human could ever contain; my gift to you has been the power to remain human. However, as your power has grown, this gift has worn thin. Your gift has been given, and it remains with you now, no matter how frail."

Ben stared up at the totema, his mouth slightly ajar. He worked his jaw a bit, trying to find the right words to say. Then, finally, he glanced down, and whispered, "Then there's nothing you can do to help me?"

"My power can aid you no further. Your curse, the loss of yourself, takes all of my influence to forestall. However," Mateus said, and Ben looked up, "if I were to release your energies now, they would react with the natural magics of this forest and this area. Your restrained powers would be unleashed and greatly enhanced."

"What would happen?" Ben asked slowly.

"I do not know; my domain is that of humans. That is a matter of beasts."

Ben stared up at the totema for a long time after that, his blue eyes glowing even amongst Mateus's light. By now, he was nearly covered in blood from his arrow wounds, however, perhaps by virtue of the totema's presence, he didn't collapse. He simply stood, waiting.

"Fine," the mage finally whispered. "Do it."

"Are you certain? There is no foretelling if you—"

"Do it," Ben repeated, turning to glare over in Maxwell's direction. The bangaa met his gaze, his mouth dry as it hung open. "If I'm going to die anyways, I'm taking him down with me."

Mateus nodded. It raised a gauntleted hand, holding it palm open towards Ben. Then, the billion voices spoke at once, thundering in their intensity. "_Ende_."

As soon as the word had left the totema's mouth, Mateus was gone, as suddenly as It had appeared. The darkness disappeared, and light filled the clearing again. It felt as though there were a general release of held breath, as everybody began breathing again.

However, the instant of relief was short lived. For suddenly, a scream tore throughout the destroyed village. It echoed off of the walls, reverberating back and multiplying itself into a horrifying screech. The sound was accompanied a moment later by a blinding flash of blue light, erupting like a star from Ben. Azure flames rushed over him, even lifting off of him in tongues that reached to the sky.

Then, suddenly, more of the blue flames began materialising from the air within the city. They seemed on the edges to be just small wisps of pale blue light, dancing amongst the trees. However, as they drifted closer to Ben in the middle of the clearing, these swathes began joining together. They darkened in colour, until they joined the central mass accumulating around Ben in a deep splash of navy blue.

Ben himself was bent over double in the midst of this towering blue inferno. His fingers were dug into the soil, writhing as he stood, growling in pain. His bent back was heaving up and down with his breathing. The arrows, sticking out from him in all directions, began shuddering a bit. Those that were embedded in him slowly began pulling out, while those that actually stuck through him would simply snap and fall out either side of the hole. Even as the arrows pushed out, the hole they left would begin sealing, leaving nothing but a tear in Ben's clothing and a bloodstain to show for themselves.

Then, something odd started happening. For a moment, Ben simply stood there, hunched over in pain. Then, there was a sickening cracking noise, and the blue light around his heels intensified as his feet rose, tearing through his leather boots. Slowly, the backs of his feet rose up while the balls remained firmly planted on the earth. The sections of his feet between these two lengthened, until he was standing in a fully digitigrade posture.

That was only the first of the changes, however. While this had been going on, Ben's body had slowly been growing in muscle mass, spreading over him and pressing out against his clothes. As well, the beginnings of small, purplish-grey hairs were beginning to push out of his skin all over his body; the beginnings of a pelt.

Isaac simply stared as all of this went on, his face illuminated by the blue light. His grip felt weak on the Avuir Red, and every once in a while he had to remind himself to grip it. It seemed as though most everybody else was having the same reaction; just standing about. However, he managed to tear his gaze away as suddenly Maxwell came running across the clearing towards him.

The moogle turned to face him, grimacing. If the bangaa wanted to fight, Isaac didn't know if he had it in him at the moment. His neck still hurt from Khorin's strangle hold, and he was beginning to find it difficult to keep his vision focused from blood loss.

Fortunately, Maxwell's blade was sheathed, and he wasn't holding his spear in any sort of attack pose. In fact, when he reached Isaac, he ran right by the moogle, walking up instead to Khorin, and Grans not far away. He began speaking very quickly, his voice betraying his fear.

"Khorin, take the rest of the soldiers and get them out through the southern edge of the forest. Retreat back to the palace, and don't wait for me. Grans, you take the remainders of your group out through the north. None of our men will follow you," as he said this, he shot Khorin a glare.

The human stared for a moment, clearly at a loss for words. Behind Maxwell, the towering inferno of blue fire was still raging, and they could hear Ben's roars of pain. Finally, Khorin managed to shake his head a bit, and glared up at Maxwell. "What are you talking about? We have them defeated. Whatever Ben's doi—"

"Whoever stays behind will die," Maxwell hissed, setting Khorin back on his heels a bit. "Didn't you hear anything that the totema said? Ben is becoming a conduit for wild magic. He will have very little control over his actions."

"And? We can use that to our advantage; get him to turn on his allies, and—"

"You are a spellcaster, yes?" Grans interrupted the human this time, cocking her head to the side a bit and giving a faint smile. Wordlessly, Khorin nodded. The nu mou gave a bit of a nod in return, then said, "Well then, tell me, have you ever seen any spell with _that_ much energy behind it?"

Khorin turned to glance at the mass of blue light, wincing a bit to keep the glare from blinding him. The blue light was now reaching up into the highest treetops, and it was still growing as more flames flitted out of the air, wrapping around Ben. The Blue mage was now standing fully on all fours, his clothing beginning to tear with the strain of added muscle. His voice had grown slightly lower, and his screams were now more reminiscent of a beast's roaring. All about the clearing, fighters from both sides had backed up as far as they could into the walls, watching in horror.

"Fine," Khorin whispered, though he clearly hated saying it. He glanced over to Maxwell, and cocked an eyebrow. "What will you be doing?"

"A beast of the magnitude Ben is becoming won't just let you all escape," Maxwell said, standing up slowly and rolling his shoulders back. "Somebody needs to distract him, and I think we can all agree that if there's anything of Ben left in there, he'll want to come for me before anybody else."

Both Khorin and Grans stood there for a moment, staring at the dragoon. Then, as one, they nodded. Khorin disappeared into the crowds, and soon his voice could be heard bellowing orders.

Grans, meanwhile, remained behind, her eyes appraising Maxwell. Finally, she said, "I was afraid for a while. I count myself a good judge of character, and when I met you, I thought you were a good boy. After recent events, I thought that I had been wrong. Now I do not think so."

The dragoon's shoulders slumped a bit. He took a deep breath, then said, pointedly ignoring her comment, "Get Isaac away from here for me."

Grans inclined her head, then turned and began calling out to individual warriors. Already, the organised forces of the palace were beginning to leak out through the entrance of the ruined village. Maxwell sighed as he saw this, then turned his attention back to Ben.

The mage's form was now completely meant for being on all fours, and luscious purple fur was covering him. His clothing was in tatters around him, and he looked to have at least doubled in size. From what the dragoon could see of the mage's hands, they were well on the way to becoming a second set of paws. The beginnings of a tail was pushing out from the seat of his ruined pants, and small lumps were forming along his back over his spine.

Despite all the motion in the camp, there was still one person standing prone and just watching Ben. Maxwell sighed, closed his eyes, then walked forward until he stood next to Isaac. The moogle had pushed himself up to a standing position, but beyond that, he was motionless. The Avuir Red was held in his left paw, the wrist limp and letting it point at the earth.

The two stood, watching Ben as he continued changing. The lumps on his back were beginning to break the skin, pushing out into sharp spines. The mage was still growing in size, as muscles rippled under his pelt of thick purple fur.

"A massive cat with purple fur and and spines along his back," Maxwell finally said, breaking the silence between them. He could barely hear himself above Ben's growling, the bellowing of orders, and the roar of the blazing magic.

"And he'll probably be growing a set of horns soon, too, kupo," Isaac replied, softly.

"A king behemoth," Maxwell said, not at all surprised that the moogle had recognized the creature as well. Neither of them had ever heard of one in Ivalice; however, the creature had appeared in several Final Fantasy games. It only made sense.

"I heard what you said to Grans and Khorin, kupo." Isaac's voice was oddly calm; Maxwell assumed that he was beginning to go into shock from everything that had happened. "What do you think your odds are of surviving fighting something like that?"

Maxwell didn't reply, and that told Isaac everything he needed to know. The two instead stood there, watching. As Isaac had predicted, they could see the beginnings of long horns appearing from Ben's temples. His tail had grown out to a proper length now, and what little they could see of his lowered face was starting to push out into a shape distinctly resembling a muzzle.

Finally, Maxwell muttered, "You should get going. You… Eileen's probably worried sick."

Isaac glanced over at Maxwell, biting his lip. He tried to say something, but no words came out. Finally, he simply sighed, then turned around and began walking away, heading towards the exit where Grans and most of the defenders of New Cyril were gathered.

Soon after Isaac joined them, the group set out, going at a hard pace through the forest. Most of the few warriors remaining were heavily injured, but even they managed to keep up with Grans' brutal pace. Every once in a while, one or another of them would glance over their shoulders, staring at the pillar of blue light. Isaac looked about to see if he could find any of Winona's group, but not a one was to be found amongst the survivors.

Perhaps five minutes after they set out, there was suddenly a terrifying roar from behind them. Everybody turned at once to stare, and they saw that the blue light had vanished. A few moments later, a terrifying crunching noise went out throughout the forest, nearly deafening all of them.

Isaac could feel his mouth going dry as he listened, and unconsciously he began chewing his lip. There was an odd fire burning in his veins that underscored his tiredness and pain. Occasionally, he could feel the fingers of his left paw twitching, and it was taking everything he had not to rush back to the clearing.

"You are worried for your friends?"

Isaac turned slightly, surprised by Grans' voice. He stared at her for a few moments, then gave a wordless nod.

"Then you should go to them," she said simply, shrugging a bit.

"Kupopo?"

"For all that Maxwell is strong, he doesn't stand a chance against Ben in that state." Then, she glanced over at him, and gave a small grin. "Besides, you want to go; you still haven't sheathed your blade yet."

Isaac looked down, and found to his surprise that the Avuir Red was still clamped tightly in his paw. He stared at it for a moment, then glanced up at Grans. He swallowed.

"I'm going, kupo."

"I know," she said, giving a solemn nod. "Take care."

Isaac nodded back, then turned and ran into the trees. None of the defenders of New Cyril called out or tried to stop him, and so he kept going uninterrupted. Every muscle in his body burned, but it wasn't stopping him. He simply ignored all of it and kept moving, forcing himself not to stop for anything. He knew in the back of his mind that as soon as he stopped, he would probably collapse and pass out. It was no longer a question of whether or not he would be able to finish this battle; it was about how long he could go before finally giving out.

After a few minutes, as the crunching and roaring grew louder in his ears, Isaac ran full-tilt into the clearing. Instantly, he flared out his wings, and lifted off into the air as he hefted the Avuir Red. The slash in his chest erupted into pain, but it didn't even seem to register in his mind. He glanced around as he rose shakily, trying to get an idea of what was going on.

His eyes widened as he suddenly saw Ben. For a moment, his brain froze up, and he simply stared. There was no way to identify this creature as the friend he had known. It had to have been at least twenty feet tall at the shoulder, all of it tough and rippling muscle. The thick fur covered the creature fully, fading down almost to black in places. Foot-long spines jutted out all along its back, each one looking sharp enough to slice Isaac in half. The long tail swayed slowly back and forth, helping it keep balance as it shifted its weight from side to side.

Most frightening of all, however, was the face. It was covered in a long muzzle, which was pulled back in an almost grinning look that revealed a set of sharp, tearing teeth. From each of the temples there protruded a long, curved horn, pushing out slightly further than the muzzle. The horns looked almost like bones, singed black by flame.

However, the most frightening thing about the beast was the one thing that helped Isaac to identify it as Ben; the eyes. They peered out from between the muzzle and the horns. There were no identifiable features about them, though. All that could be seen was a brilliant blue light, stabbing out in shafts. Their glare was reflected somewhat by those two horns, and they gave the purple fur on its face a bit of a blue tinge.

Isaac stared at the behemoth for a few moments, unable to breathe. When he finally managed to get some air back in, he wondered quite suddenly where Maxwell was.

Just as he thought this, something plummeted from the sky. Isaac's eyes flicked over to it, and watches as Maxwell landed just in front of the creature in a heavy crouch. Instantly, the creature swiped forward with a paw, extending claws as long and sharp as any swords.

The bangaa kicked off with his feet, jumping backwards and just out of range of the claws. The behemoth came onward, swiping with the other paw. This time, Maxwell simply raised his spear, blocking all of the claws along the length of the weapon. The force of the blow threw Maxwell back a foot or so, but he managed to hold his stance, halting the attack.

Seeing its prey essentially immobilized, the behemoth lunged forward, thrusting its horns at Maxwell. The dragoon saw the attack coming, and tensed up. A moment before he would have been impaled, he jumped again, lifting himself up and out of the way of the strike.

The behemoth stopped its attack sharply, then dodged its head upward at the dragoon, opening its maw and attempting to tear at him. Its head lunged forward, and Maxwell pulled his legs in sharply. The teeth slammed shut just below the bangaa, and the beast let out a frustrated roar as Maxwell continued upwards, finally landing on a branch of one of the trees that hung over around the clearing.

Apparently, this game had been going on for quite some time, because the behemoth roared in frustration and glared up at Maxwell in the tree. The bangaa stood, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Obviously, the level of athleticism required to keep up that kind of dodging was taking its toll on him.

Below, the behemoth suddenly leaned down, bunching up its legs. Both Isaac and Maxwell turned to stare. There was no way that that thing could…

It lunged, springing through the air at Maxwell's tree.

The dragoon stumbled a bit as he stared at the great creature, soaring towards him. He barely managed to stumble out along the branch and jump, launching through the air just as the behemoth's claws ripped through the tree he just been occupying.

The trunk splintered and fell, turning slightly before it collided with the ground in a deafening crunch. The behemoth barely noticed; it had its claws dug into the remains of the tree, perching on it as it glanced around to see where Maxwell had landed. It narrowed its eyes, then jumped again, heading clear across the clearing.

Maxwell had just landed, stumbling a bit as he touched down in a tree. He hadn't been expecting the jump; so, he hadn't had the time to set correctly or plan the landing. He panted as he landed, turning around. He gasped when he saw that the behemoth had already jumped again, heading straight for him.

He took a step forward, his eyes darting around the clearing for another target to jump towards. He pushed off, but he already knew that he'd been too slow to dodge the creature's attack completely. He tensed up, preparing for the strike as the behemoth closed with him, claws extending.

Suddenly, something dove just in front of the creature's face, a streak of red held in its paw. It twirled, and a small lance of silver light burst from it, flying into the creature's face.

The behemoth cried out, surprised, and swiped its horns down to intercept the blow. Isaac, however, kept slashing, sending several mog lances out to blind the creature. As he did so, he looked over his shoulder to Maxwell. "Move, kupo!" he roared.

Maxwell stared at him for several moments, still shocked. Then, he shook his head, and took off, flying across the clearing. Even as he was taking off, Isaac stopped flapping, dropping out of the behemoth's path.

The creature hurtled forward into the trees, crashing heavily into them. There was a horrifying crunch as all of the trunks snapped under the creature's weight, then tumbled back to collide with the ground. The behemoth lay there for a few moments, winded and panting.

Isaac took the opportunity to flap up to where Maxwell was perched, landing lightly on the branch next to him. The bangaa was bent over double, his breath coming in wheezes. Occasionally, small puffs of smoke were expelled from his nose. Finally, he glanced up to Isaac, and panted, "Why are you here?"

"I'm helping you, kupo," the moogle replied, breathing quite heavily himself. "So, what's the plan?"

Maxwell stared at the moogle, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation. Finally, he shook his head, and stood up a bit straighter. "We try to hold him off for ten minutes. That should be enough time for both groups to get away. Then, we split up and go into the forest to the east and the west to lead him away from the others. We'll just say that the person he chooses lost the coin toss. Sound good?"

"Ten minutes, eh, kupo?" Isaac asked. He glanced down at the slashes and bruises covering him, then up at Maxwell, who was in little better shape.

"Ten minutes," Maxwell nodded, understanding Isaac's unsaid statement.

"Alright then," Isaac said, turning to glance down at the behemoth. It had managed to get back up to its paws, and was shaking its head to clear it. Slowly, it looked up at the two of them, and growled. As it started prepping itself for another jump, Isaac muttered, "See you in ten minutes, kupo."

Maxwell nodded, and Isaac jumped off of the edge of the branch, his wings flaring. The dragoon waited a moment, watching the behemoth. He waited until it had already bunched up its legs before pushing off, jumping into the air.

The behemoth soared through the space, passing between Isaac below and Maxwell above, before landing with ease belying its bulk in the tree's branches. Without hesitation, it turned and launched out at Maxwell again.

The bangaa cursed under his breath; he was still only about halfway through his jump. He watched as the creature closed with him, waiting until it got close. Then, he took in a deep breath, and lunged his head forward. Flames launched from his mouth, flying in at the beast's face.

The behemoth reared back in pain, its horns only a few feet from the bangaa's body. As it flailed in the air, Maxwell turned to face the tree he was headed towards. He swallowed as it approached; he would only have a second or two to jump, before the behemoth collided into the tree after him.

His feet touched against the bark, and the bangaa crouched to absorb the impact. Instantly, he straightened his legs back out, pushing off, and launched backwards in a long, slow backflip. As he went up, he watched the behemoth passing just below him. He could almost feel its fur running over his scales as it passed him, and he didn't breathe as it slid by.

Suddenly, pain exploded in the bangaa's side. He cried out and slapped his hand to his side, glancing down. One of the behemoth's spines had managed to catch him as he slid by, slashing into his skin and sending a hot spray of blood over the scales. He bunched up as he kept flying, but fortunately he managed to avoid the creature's other spines.

Then, he was away from the creature. He was travelling through open air, some of his blood travelling with him in his arc across the clearing. He heard the crashing as the behemoth collided with the tree he'd just been occupying, but was too busy focusing on the pain to notice.

With a grunt of pain, he turned in midair, trying to find a place to land through the haze over his mind. However, his eyes were too unfocused; all he saw was a mass of green and brown. There were no branches for him to aim for, and he wouldn't have had the presence of mind to direct his flight anyways if he had seen them.

Just as he was about to resign himself to his fate, Maxwell felt something hit him in the side. He turned, and his eyes widened as he saw Isaac. The moogle had sheathed the Avuir Red, and was wrapping his good arm as far around the bangaa as he could. His small wings were working furiously to direct them, and the strain was showing plainly in his face.

"Angle to the left, kupo!" Isaac roared, trying to tug Maxwell in that direction. The bangaa, barely hearing the words through the pain, managed to tilt his spear a bit, using it to direct their flight as best as he could.

A few moments later, Isaac pulled away, flapping hard. Maxwell kept flying for a moment, then felt himself collide with the surface of a branch. He cried out as he slid along it for a few moments, then finally collided with the tree's trunk. His breath left him on the impact, and he was sure that he broke a few ribs. However, he managed to keep his balance on the thick branch, and lay there, panting in pain and exertion.

Isaac landed heavily next to him on the branch, panting. "Don't move, kupo," he just managed to gasp. "I'll draw his attention."

The moogle cast a glance at the exhausted bangaa. He was crumpled in a heap at the base of the branch, clutching hard to his bleeding side. Aside from the occasional fidget of pain, he didn't move; he simply lay there, breathing heavily. One look at the wound in his side made Isaac shake his head. If it weren't for his dragon scales, Maxwell probably would have been torn in half by that strike.

Sighing, the moogle turned away, walking out to the edge of the branch. He could see the behemoth far below, slowly picking itself up. It must have fallen a few hundred feet after missing its jump, but it looked as though it was just a bit dazed. If anything, the blue light in its eyes had only intensified.

Knowing that he would have to move quickly if he wanted to keep it distracted from Maxwell, he jumped off again, ignoring the pain in his chest. He plummeted for a few feet, then opened his wings. He didn't flap; instead, he let himself glide, swooping down close to the ground. Steeling himself, he moved so that he passed just in front of the thing's face.

As soon as he passed it by, the thing's blue eyes followed Isaac's form. It growled, a sound that sent vibrations running through Isaac's chest even from this far away, and then lunged after him.

Knowing that he wouldn't stand much of a chance of dodging it from up in the air, Isaac kept close to the earth, simply skimming the ground and flapping occasionally to keep himself airborne. He could hear the thing following, not too far behind him. Occasionally he would glance back, and very quickly he realised that it was moving faster than him.

With a bit of a grunt, he finally pulled himself up and landed. He turned to face it, and drew out the Avuir Red as quickly as he could. The behemoth slowed as it approached him, glaring down.

Isaac just managed to hold his ground as he stared at the creature. His paw shook a bit on the golden hilt at the sight of that face, burned and enraged by Maxwell's flames. There were several large cuts along its sides from having crashed so many times, but all of these injuries only served to make it more frightening. The blue light of its eyes intensified a bit as it watched the moogle, clearly unimpressed.

Suddenly, the behemoth's paw launched forward, swiping down at Isaac. Barely catching it in time, Isaac dove forward, hitting the ground hard and rolling as the paw smashed into the earth just behind him. He came back up to his feet, staggering, and kept moving forward, already seeing the creature preparing to headbutt at him. His path back was still blocked by the paw, and he already had momentum going forward, so he simply kept running.

The creature lunged forward, and its horns missed Isaac by less than an inch. He could actually feel the tip of one just scratching over one his wings, opening a small cut, before the moogle dove clear again. The impact of the horns smashing into the earth sent vibrations running through the moogle.

Still, he managed to get onto his feet for a second time, stumbling forward between the behemoth's legs. He kept running, panting and hoping that the creature wouldn't think to crush him underneath its weight.

Fortunately, the behemoth seemed too distracted trying to tug its horns out of the earth to make another attempt on Isaac. Its front paws scratched at the ground, leaving great gouges in the grass, as Isaac passed by underneath.

As the moogle ran out from between the creature's rear legs, he looked to see where its tail was. He cursed, seeing that the muscled appendage was headed straight for him. A blow from that would probably break most of the bones in his body, and that was if he was lucky.

He huffed, blinking a bit in pain and exhaustion as he swiped out towards the tip of the tail with the Avuir Red. Silvery moonlight shot from the tip, reaching out to make a small cut along the tail. Instantly, the creature let out a slightly pained yelp, and its tail halted in its movements, pulling away from him.

As Isaac finally got past the behemoth's body, his arm draped across his bleeding chest to try and put pressure on it, the creature finally managed to tug its horns free of the dirt. It reared back sharply in a roar, shaking its head to dislodge the dirt from the bony protrusions. As it came back down to all fours, it spun around, facing the retreating Isaac again. It gave a low, predatory growl, then sprung after the moogle.

Isaac didn't have to look to know that it was gaining. The vibrations running through the ground told him enough. The force of them was making his already shaky balance quite precarious, forcing him into awkward stumbles every few steps. However, he managed to keep his feet underneath him, and ran on, closing his eyes and wheezing.

Suddenly, what felt like a gust of wind blew past Isaac, the added force making him lose his balance. His feet staggered forward a couple more steps, before he tumbled forward, sprawling heavily into the ground. As he landed, he opened his eyes again, staring upwards.

The behemoth had jumped over his head, causing the gust of wind. Somehow, it had managed to position the jump just perfectly to land directly in front of Isaac, essentially cutting off Isaac's avenue of escape. As it landed, it turned slowly about, a low growl issuing from its mouth. Finally, its glowing blue eyes focused on the moogle, who had managed to push himself up into a kneeling position. It leaned down very slowly, bending its legs a bit so that it could place its face directly in front of Isaac's, the hot breath issuing from its nostrils nearly bowling Isaac over backwards again.

The two of them simply stood there, staring at each other. Isaac's entire body felt like a lump of thick jelly; he couldn't move, and everything was heavy. His breath came difficultly, and though they terrified him, he couldn't manage to tear his gaze away from those glowing eyes, sizing him up as prey.

Then, suddenly, the behemoth gave a snort, and swiped out with a paw. The claws on it were retracted, but that didn't mean all that much. Isaac just managed to raise the Avuir Red and focus some moonlight to take part of the blow before it smashes into his side, lifting him from the ground. He was launched clear across the clearing, his body flopping awkwardly in the wind. For a few moments, he was unaware of anything but the feeling of being airborne, and of wind rustling through his fur. The pain from the strike seemed dimmed as the grass flew by beneath, and his eyes went out of focus from the wind drying them.

Finally, he came to a stop as he slammed into one of the trees surrounding the former village, his left hip smashing hard against the wood. There was a sharp cracking noise, and he cried out in pain as the bone broke. He collapsed hard to the ground, doing his best not to land on the leg, and lay there, panting heavily and making occasional choked off cries of pain.

He was so distracted by the pain that he didn't even notice the behemoth bounding across the clearing, almost like a dog running after its favourite toy. He didn't feel its presence until it was suddenly leaning down over him, its hot breath rushing through his fur.

Isaac looked up, then, seeing the creature standing there and leering down at him. He groaned as he saw it slowly raising its paw again, preparing to bat him across the clearing for a second time.

Suddenly, there was a cry, and Maxwell came hurtling down from above them. Both Isaac and the creature looked up in surprise, just as the bangaa landed on the behemoth's back. He held his spear in one hand, the other arm being tied up tightly in a sling. As such, he landed a bit awkwardly, managing to score a small hit on the creature's hide, before tumbling off without any of his usual grace or poise.

He landed on his feet, and the creature rounded on him, swiping with a paw. The bangaa just managed to raise the spear to catch the claws along its length, the force of the block pushing him back several metres through the grass. His entire body shook with the force of keeping his spear in place, and he kept his eyes closed the entire time, chewing on his lip a bit. The red stain on the torn fabric on his side was slowly spreading, the force required to hold the block increasing his blood flow.

The behemoth glared at him for a moment, then slightly altered the pressure its paw was exerting. Maxwell eyes opened in surprise, and he stumbled a bit as the weapon was torn from his grasp. It hit the ground and slid until it was lying next to Isaac, who was unable to move enough to help Maxwell out. Seeing how far away the weapon had gotten, Maxwell took a step back, instantly pulling the Materia Blade from its sheath.

Before he even finished raising the weapon, the cat slashed again. The claws blew the blade away, and connected directly with his torso. They met his breastplate with a horrifying screech, the metal rending under their force.

Fortunately, Maxwell had managed to plant himself quite well, so the strike only tossed him a few metres. However, his armour was in scraps, and he was now unarmed. He managed to stagger up to his feet, then fell back a bit, bracing himself up against one of the trees, and staring over at the behemoth.

The creature eyed him from where it stood, clearly sizing him up. Its gaze shifted to look at Isaac, still laying on the ground and gasping in pain occasionally. He was clearly on the edge of consciousness, as his fingers scrabbled at the earth around the hilt of the Avuir Red.

Slowly, the behemoth stepped towards Isaac, deciding that the moogle, still holding a weapon, was the more dangerous of the two. Maxwell could only watch, horrified, as it padded over to the prone moogle, until soon it was looming up above him. It raised its paw carefully, flexing it to get the claws out to their full length.

"Ben," the dragoon whispered, his voice haggard. He panted a bit, then yelled, "Ben! Stop!"

Much to Maxwell's surprise, the creature actually stopped, turning its gaze over to the bangaa. There was an odd, confused look on its face, as though it wasn't completely understanding of his words. Hurriedly, Maxwell continued.

"Ben, you don't want to kill him. He's not the one who's responsible for all this. Remember why you chose to become that… that creature. Remember who you wanted to kill."

The bangaa watched those glowing eyes throughout all of this as they grew more and more confused. Now feeling sure that he was reaching Ben on some sort of level, Maxwell kept on speaking.

"Don't kill him, Ben. I'm the one you want dead. Come after me, and leave Isaac alone. Me, not him. Me."

The creature took a hesitant step back, now feeling obviously torn. It gazed about frantically, making slight whining and hissing noises and tearing the earth with its claws. Finally, it ducked its head down into the earth, growling and pawing, as through trying to dislodge something from its skull. For a moment, Maxwell thought that he had gotten through to it.

Then, it threw its head back, roaring. It shook its head a bit, then rounded on Isaac again, advancing and raising its paw one last time.

Maxwell didn't even think. He pulled away from the tree and ran directly for the moogle, faster than he felt he had in his entire life. A fire burning in his veins pushed him, making him fast enough that he had already reached his fallen spear by the time the paw began falling. He scooped it up, then slid to a stop in the small amount of space between Isaac and the behemoth.

Maxwell stood there for an instant, staring at that massive, clawed paw as it fell towards him. He felt his mouth go dry, and tried to swallow.

Then, his grip tightened on the spear.

With a sudden jolt, everything began bending in towards the bangaa. Shafts of light, errant drops of blood from him or Isaac, the soft wind blowing about them. All of it swirled in around Maxwell, gathering force incredibly quickly. Soon, a nexus of swirling energy had built in Maxwell's hand on the spear shaft, and with a roar, he plunged the weapon forward, around the behemoth's descending paw, and into its chest.

"_Ultima!_"

There was a terrifying roar as the blast discharged, the force of it nearly making Maxwell drop his weapon. As the light lanced forward, discharging throughout the behemoth's body, the expression on the creature's face changed. It went quickly to one of shock, as blue light burst from the wound, pouring out like a flood. It spilled out into the forest and disappeared in a constant stream, even as the behemoth began shrinking and his fur started pulling back into his skin.

After a few short seconds, the roaring and the light ended, and Maxwell staggered a bit, staring. His grip shook on the spear, and he could feel the bile rising in his throat when he saw that, instead of the behemoth, Ben's human body was impaled on his spear's head.

The bangaa staggered a bit, his knees feeling weak as he stared at the human. His eyes were still open in a look of surprise, but none of the blue light was there anymore. There were simply his normal sky blue eyes, staring emptily forward at Maxwell.

Finally, the bangaa collapsed to his knees, the weapon falling from his grasp as the body hit the forest floor. He simply knelt there, his chest heaving and his eyes wide and unblinking for several moments.

"You used Ultima, kupo."

Maxwell turned his head sharply around at that, eyes widening when he saw Isaac. The moogle was still lying on the ground, his eyes scrunched up in pain. The moogle watched the dragoon a few moments longer, then whispered, "You managed to use Ultima without the Materia Blade."

Maxwell nodded weakly, his entire body shaking.

Isaac nodded slowly back, blinking occasionally. Then, his body went limp, and the moogle passed mercifully from consciousness.

---

A/N: For those of you who need a reference for what a king behemoth looks like, look up the opening video of Final Fantasy III on youtube. The creature they fight is a king behemoth.

Also, happy belated birthday, you. And you know who you are.

Lastly, as I sometimes do, I'd like to thank another no email address/no fanfiction account reviewer. This time, I'd like to thank Salguod (did I spell that right?), who has been reviewing for a while now. Your reviews are always nice, because you are totally willing to take me to task when I do a sloppy job or screw something up. Thank you muchly for all the criticism. It helps to keep me thinking.


	98. Cure

"Try to keep any weight off of that arm until we can get you to the White mages, alright dear?" Not waiting for a response, Grans patted the viera she was speaking to softly on the shoulder, and stood up. She glanced around the camp, making certain that she hadn't forgotten anybody. Slowly, she counted off their numbers, then nodded a bit, putting away the sterilized needle and roll of thin string she had with her. True, Grans was no mage; however, many years of clan life and working with her hands in a small village had taught her more than a bit in the ways of first aid.

She sighed, looking up at the sky. Even if it weren't for the thick clouds, there wouldn't have been any light up there. The new moon was tonight, and the usual bright orb of silver light was nowhere to be found. The only light in the night was the soft glow of the campfire one of the hunters had managed to get started. Most of their group was huddled around the flames, while herself, the couple people on watch, and a few of the injured members of their party remained awake in the cool night.

A small sound drew her attention off to the right. The guard closest to that point looked up sharply and began placing an arrow to her bowstring, confirming to Grans that she hadn't imagined it. Grans quickly waved the human down, placing a finger over her lips to silence her. The hunter nodded, and turned towards the source of the sound again, waiting.

The pair waited in tense silence for maybe half a minute, before slowly, a figure stumbled into the light of the campfire. For a moment, the hunched form was too dark in the dim illumination for her to identify it. However, as it staggered forward a few more steps, Grans's eyes widened, and she couldn't help but gasp, "Ultima."

Maxwell didn't show any signs of having heard the exclamation. He was hunched forward at almost half of his normal height, heavily favouring one side as he walked. His clothing was torn in many places, much of it soaked with blood. She saw that his left arm was wrapped in a makeshift sling, clearly torn from the cloth of his shirt. His spear was nowhere to be found, but the Materia Blade, along with two other blades, was slung over his right arm. As he came closer, Grans could pick out the many small cuts and bruises covering him, and a nasty gash in his side that had been sloppily stitched up.

It wasn't until he had almost reached her that she saw the bundle in his arms. For the first few seconds, it looked simply like the pelt of some small brown animal. However, she quickly realised her mistake, and when she did, she rushed forward to check on Isaac's condition.

The moogle was clearly unconscious, from the way he slumped in the bangaa's grip. The only thing that didn't hang limp was his left leg, which stuck out from his body. It took Grans a moment to realise that this was because it was bound in a tight splint, holding the limb so that it wouldn't place any weight on the hip. Even through his fur, she could see the bruises covering his right and left sides. The slash in his chest and the stab wound through his right paw had been stitched up, just as sloppily as the gash in Maxwell's side had been, and a few strips of cloth had been used as makeshift bandages to put pressure on the wounds.

When Grans approached, the hunter a step behind her, Maxwell didn't wait for their questions. "Where can I put him?"

"Over here," the old nu mou said, gesturing the bangaa over towards a spot not far from the fire. The hunter quickly laid out a bedroll, then went over to find one of the first aid packets they had with them.

Maxwell carefully laid Isaac on the roll, then collapsed heavily into a sitting position, sighing a bit and leaning back to look at the sky with closed eyes.

"Are you alright?" Grans asked as she began working over Isaac. She unwound some of his blood-soaked bandages, accepting clean ones from the returning hunter. "You look just about as injured as he is."

"I'm fine," Maxwell murmured, his voice flat. "Just tired."

"Would you like us to change your bandages or redo that stitching for you? You may have trouble healing if—"

"No, no." The bangaa shook his head softly, his eyes lidded. "I heal faster than most. I think it has something to do with being part dragon. I'll be healthy enough to travel by tomorrow, and I should be fine to jump in a couple days."

"Good," Grans said, tying off a bandage around the moogle's chest and making sure it was tight. "In that case, once you can jump, you can carry Isaac ahead to Guinness faster than the rest of us. We're just heading to the—"

"No!" Maxwell said sharply, sitting up and glancing at the nu mou. Grans's eyes widened slightly, and she tilted her head to the side as she looked at the bangaa. Maxwell sighed, then shook his head. "Don't tell me where you're going. If I don't know, then I can't tell the queen."

All was silent for several long moments, aside from the crackling of the fire. The two of them sat there, not moving or speaking.

"Then you plan to go back to the queen?" Grans asked.

Maxwell nodded.

Again, there was silence. Then Grans turned back to the moogle, getting out her needle and string to redo the stitches. "If that's your intent, why did you bring Isaac here? Why not kill him, or leave him to die? If you had, your mission would have been complete. According to what I've heard, Isaac is your personal target in all this."

Maxwell bit his lip, and he let out a long, shuddery sigh. "I've already killed one of my best friends today. I apologize if I couldn't find the heart to finish off a second."

Grans paused, her grip tightening noticeably on Isaac's arm. "So Ben is dead, then?"

"Yes," Maxwell nodded. "I… I didn't want to. He was going to kill Isaac, and I just started moving, and then…"

"I know," Grans said, glancing kindly over to the bangaa. "I know. You have no need to explain."

Maxwell took a deep breath, giving a small nod of thanks. He bit his lip, then leaned slowly back until he was lying down. "I won't impose on you long. As soon as I've caught my breath, I'll be gone."

"Why not stay the night with us?" Grans offered, carefully finishing up her stitching. "You must be exhausted from carrying him here."

"I… I would, but I don't want him to wake and find me here. I don't know if I can face him… if I can face either of them right now."

"Of course," she said, sitting back and looking down at the moogle again. Hesitantly, she reached down and shifted his splint a bit, looking at his hip. She bit her lip at the sight of the skin, all of it bright red, shifting into dirty greens and purples in places. They would have to carry him; there was now way that the moogle would be walking for several weeks, unless a White mage attended to him.

After several minutes of just lying there, Maxwell finally stood up, stretching a bit. He carefully worked his shoulder until the belt holding the two additional blades dropped down from where he held them. From this close, Grans could easily identify them: the Twin Blades Avuir. Maxwell laid them down gingerly beside the moogle, then stood up. He gave a small nod of thanks to Grans, then limped off, out of the firelight.

A few moments after the bangaa had left, Isaac stirred. Grans looked down at him in surprise as he slowly tilted his head back and opened his eyes. They were both bloodshot, with heavy bags underneath them.

"Has he left, kupo?"

"Yes… yes he has," Grans said, not sure what she should say to the moogle.

Isaac nodded, then muttered, "Do you think you could go after him and tell him that I dreamt Eileen and the others were safe?"

Grans made to reply, but saw that the moogle was already asleep. She waited a few moments, simply watching Isaac lying there, sleeping heavily and murmuring occasionally as he lay there. Then, she sighed, and pushed herself up to her feet. She turned in the direction that Maxwell had gone, and set out, soon fading into darkness as she left the fire's light.

---

The trip from the Koringwood to the mouth of the Tubola Cave would normally take three days for a group of their size. However, as it was, with everybody exhausted and injured, several so badly that they couldn't walk on their own, it took over a week for them to finally see the towering cave mouth ahead, a black hole in the landscape. Fortunately, a few of the hunters were in good enough shape to forage and catch food for them during the long journey, and due in large parts to Grans' experience, none of the heavily injured members of their party were lost.

That said, it was a close thing for many of them. There was one older male human who had lost a good portion of his arm in the fighting, and it was only thanks to the two potions the entire group carried that he was still breathing. Once he was tended to, though, there was the issue of Isaac. His several wounds hadn't sealed up; in fact, whenever Grans changed his bandages, they were soaked with blood. It wasn't as though he were gushing blood or anything, but it was still concerning.

Just as troubling was the fact that the moogle seemed to have stopped sleeping. After the first night when Maxwell had brought him in, Isaac would simply lie there at night, sometimes with his eyes shut, but always perfectly awake. His eyes were beginning to look incredibly bloodshot, and sometimes, when somebody was speaking to him, he would simply start nodding and not stop for a few minutes, having partially lost consciousness.

Once they were about a kilometre from the mouth of the cave, someone appeared quite suddenly from the trees around them, almost as though she had stepped out of the air. Several of the members of the group reached for weapons, but stopped when Grans called out, "Ah, Littlevili! How nice of you to come and greet us."

For a moment, the viera didn't reply: she was too busy staring at the assembled group. There couldn't have been more than thirty of them there. Before Clan Nutsy had left, the force had numbered in the hundreds. She didn't move for a few moments, her eyes wide, until Grans cleared her throat, bringing the viera's attention back.

"Right, sorry," she said, shaking her head. "I'll head back and send an escort to help you through the cave, and get all of the White mages prepared for you. Do you need anything else?"

"Hmm… a meal would be nice," Grans said, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "Possibly a bath as well. Several of us haven't been eating much."

"Right," Vili nodded, turning away. She couldn't help casting one last glance back at the haggard group before she left, shaking her head at how ragged they looked. "I'll go as quickly as I can."

With that, she disappeared in the forest again, making barely a sound.

The group kept moving along at their slow pace, though perhaps a bit faster now that they knew their days of wandering were nearing an end.

Not long afterwards, another figure emerged from the trees. Several members of the group gave sighs of relief when they saw the familiar form of Owen standing there, another archer just behind him. Much like Vili, he had to stop and stare for a moment at the remains of the army, and nobody missed his grip tightening on his greatbow. He quickly took charge, getting the archer to go on the left as he took the right, and they hurried them onwards. With the two guides, the going was much easier, as they had discovered some of the easier paths leading through the wilderness towards the cave's mouth.

Before long, they got to Tubola Cave. Once there, the few battle mages with them summoned up orbs of light, and a few torches were passed around. Then, the long descent began.

It was a good thing that Vili had found them and sent Owen to help. Without him and the archer, they would never have made it down. The pair worked tirelessly, going up and down the line and helping people down rougher patches. The two of them also took personal responsibility for carrying the three members of the group on stretchers across difficult or dangerous terrain.

That said, it was still a difficult journey. Many of the paths they took down were slippery with moisture, and occasionally they had to go down short drops of four or five feet. On top of that, much of the rock around them was broken, so that sharp edges jutted out everywhere at them. Fortunately, it seemed any creatures lurking in the darkness had learned from the other expeditions that it was wiser not to attack, because none crossed their path.

All in all, when the group finally reached the gates of Jagd Helje four hours later, most of them had a few more cuts and bruises than they'd started with. When they reached the flat, broken cobble-stoned road that led into the city, they decided it would be prudent to stop for a short while and gather their breath. Though the path now would be easier, it was still a good kilometre or two to the actual gates of the city.

Eventually, they got up and started moving again. Isaac, lying on his stretcher, listened inattentively to the gasps of amazement of those around him as they stared at the great pillars lining the path. He could still remember his own awe upon seeing them for the first time, when he, Eileen, Jacqueline, and Ben had come down to save Maxwell.

A soft smile broke over his exhausted features as he was carried along, staring at the natural ceiling far overhead. It had been fun back then. The adventuring, the mad plans, the desperate battles. Each time, they had known that their lives were on the line, and that it would probably be their last fight. But they'd always been happy, and totally willing.

_Of course, you know who ruined that_, a voice whispered from the back of his mind, and a twinge of pain crossed his face.

"Are you alright, ssssir?" asked a concerned voice. Isaac looked up in slight surprise, into the eyes of the bangaa that was helping to carry his stretcher. She must have noticed the moment of discomfort.

Quickly, he gave his head a shake, saying, "It was nothing, kupo. Just a phantom pain from my paw. I get them sometimes."

She looked as though she were about to question him further, but at that moment a noise came from up ahead. The bangaa looked up, and the look of relief in her eyes let Isaac know that they had reached the gates of Helje. Again, he recalled their experience there, unlocking the door with the Helje Key. That would have been the first time he saw the writing of Lini the First Mogknight, engraved in a warning on the door.

He blinked a bit, then suddenly became aware that somebody was speaking. He focused his ears, and clearly picked up Guinness's voice.

"Grans, how many critically injured?"

"Just two; this human, and Isaac over there."

"Alright, I want everybody but Newman and Eugene to get to work on the rest of them. If it's a wound they can heal easily from, then get them some food and send them to a bed somewhere." He heard feet moving quickly all around him, then suddenly Guinness's face was leaning in over his vision. The mage glanced down at him, quickly moving to check all of his bandaging. He noticed the nu mou's eyes widening slightly when he saw the blood that had soaked through his bandages again, and he turned to Grans. "How long has he been bleeding?"

"He hasn't stopped since we met up with him a week ago. It's not a lot, but it's constant."

Guinness bit his lip, then ordered quickly, "Alright, Newman, handle that human for me, would you? Eugene, with me. Owen, Andrew, would you two mind carrying Isaac for us?"

Isaac felt himself being transferred, and then it was Owen and his archer friend who were carrying him. The two hurried him away, and Isaac tried to keep comfortable, his eyes half lidded as the jagd rolled by around him. He recognised the soft, pulsing green light that was used to illuminate the entire area, and just managed to pick out a few of the wrecked hulls of airships looming up beside him. Eugene and Guinness kept pace the entire time, speaking quickly and checking him occasionally.

"How long did Grans say he'd been bleeding?"

"A week."

"That's a long time, Guinness."

"I know."

"By all rights, he should be dead already."

"I know."

"How much White magic do you think you can actually muster up here, in the middle of a Jagd? It's—"

"I know, Eugene. He's an Ultimate, though; that must count for something. They don't go down as easily as most."

"I should hope not," Eugene said, glancing down at Isaac again. "I would hate to lose him."

"Eugene?" Isaac managed to gasp weakly, inviting stares from the two nu mou.

"You have enough energy to speak?"

"I'm right here, Eugene," Isaac muttered, his voice growing raspy as he continued. "Try not to pronounce me dead already, kupo."

"I'm sorry, Isaac." The mage looked it. "It's just, well…"

"I know, kupo," the moogle sighed, leaning back with a grimace of pain. "You're a battlefield healer mage, not a doctor. You're used to casting a spell and forgetting about it." The moogle managed a slight chuckle. "Doesn't change the fact that you've got terrible bedside manners."

The nu mou actually smiled a bit at the moogle's words, shrugging. "You know me too well, Isaac."

"Sorry to interrupt," Guinness said, watching Isaac anxiously, "but you shouldn't speak anymore. We don't want you exerting yourself right now."

"One question," Isaac asked. Guinness hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Where's Eileen, kupo?"

"Probably training in the arena again," Eugene answered. "I'll doubt she's gotten word that you're back yet. She'll be here as soon as they inform her, though."

"Good," the moogle nodded, then settled back onto the stretcher. "I should be the one to tell her."

The two mages above him exchanged glances, each one instantly guessing what Isaac was referring to. However, instead of saying anything about it, Guinness simply said, "Eugene, would you slow him for the journey? If we can slow down his blood loss, it'll help things a lot."

The Time mage nodded, then gestured with his hands. He whispered a few words, and suddenly, it seemed to Isaac that everything was speeding up around him. He blinked, finding the experience disorienting, even though he had grown somewhat more used to it during his time in Ivalice.

When the rush of speed had finally finished, he was lying on top of a table in a well-illuminated room. He could see the arching wooden planks of an airship's hull above him, gleaming with the brightness. This room seemed warmer than the rest of the jagd, particularly from what he could remember from his last visit. His ears picked up a soft crackling noise, and the moogle assumed that there was a fire somewhere nearby.

Owen and Andrew had already left, and Guinness was washing blood and sweat from Isaac's fur with a warm, damp rag. Eugene was standing next to him with his eyes closed, a glowing palm laid flat over Isaac's chest so that it avoided the slash there.

After a moment of simply standing there, the Time mage shook his head, pulling his paw away. "Guinness, he's lost a _lot_ of blood."

"How much is a lot?"

"About a litre."

Isaac didn't miss the feeling of Guinness's hands pausing for a moment in their washing, before continuing as he asked, "Why hasn't it clotted anywhere?"

"I'm not sure," Eugene replied, chewing his lip slightly. "I can feel it right now: the blood running underneath the cuts, but instead of building up and clotting, it just… passes by. Maybe if I got a better look…"

"I'll get the bandage off of his chest so we can see."

"Why is it such a big deal if I've lost a litre of blood, kupo?" Isaac asked, his voice barely audible as he glanced up at Eugene.

The Time mage, looked down at him, taking another slight bite at his lip. "The average moogle only has about two litres of blood, Isaac."

Isaac's eyes widened as Guinness finished unwrapping the bandage around his chest and Eugene went to take a look. That was right. He was a moogle. A litre meant a lot more to him now than it had when he was a human.

"Well that's it, then," Guinness murmured. Isaac could feel the mage's hands running along beside the length of the stitched up slash in his chest.

"What, kupo?"

"The weapon that cut you was specially treated in a poison that prevents clotting," Eugene explained, standing back and sighing. "If Grans hadn't stitched you up, you would still be gushing right now. Whoever attacked you knew what they were doing."

Isaac nodded as much as he could, remembering Khorin's katana slicing into him. Yes, he certainly had known what he'd been doing.

"So, any ideas?" Eugene asked, glancing over at Guinness.

The other mage had his eyes closed, and had placed his paw to the skin on his forehead, rubbing it hard. He stood like that for a few minutes, before murmuring, "We'll have to do it brute force. Helping the natural healing along won't work, seeing as natural healing isn't doing anything, and we can't just leave him stitched up. The only option is to undo the stitches, then have one of us try and keep the blood in and force his body to produce some more while the other seals the slash. If we can get his chest done, the rest should be alright…"

"Guinness, we're in a jagd," Eugene said, casting a sharp look at the other mage. Our White magic is weak enough as it is outside of an engagement, but on top of that, there's so much chaotic magic in the air that our spells are—"

"I'm well aware of the effects a jagd has upon White magic," Guinness stated, glancing back at Eugene, before reaching down to softly run a finger along Isaac's stitching. "If we can't seal this up, though, he will die."

"And how long will he last once we've taken out the stitches? He'll start bleeding like he did when he first got that injury!"

"Well then what else would you suggest, Eugene?"

"I don't know," Eugene said, shrugging helplessly and shaking his head. There was a defeated look in his eyes that was completely different from anything Isaac had ever seen on him before. "But I do know that I don't have enough energy in me to either hold the blood in or seal that up. Unless we could get to the surface…"

"I won't risk moving him," Guinness said, nodding to the bruises along Isaac's side. "How many of his bones are broken? It's a miracle that none of them pierced the skin on the way here. If something like that happened on the way up, it would all be over."

"Then what do we do?"

"I have no idea."

"Guys?" Isaac rasped. Both glanced to him, and he sighed. "I'm right here, kupo."

"Sorry," both said as one. Eugene walked over to Isaac again to look at the injuries covering him, while Guinness walked somewhere outside of the moogle's limited range of vision. There was silence in the otherwise empty hull for a while, aside from the crackling of the fire. The light threw shadows along the walls that Isaac traced with his eyes, watching as they shifted and melted and jumped.

"Perhaps…" Guinness's voice drifted over, and Eugene looked up sharply. "Yes, it could work."

"What?"

"I need you to find Montblanc and bring him here."

"Montblanc?"

"Yes, please hurry and get him. No questions."

Eugene looked as though he were about to say something, but then thought better of it. He bit his lip, chewing on it for a moment, then nodded and set out. As soon as he had left, Guinness returned to Isaac's side, glancing down at him. He cocked an eyebrow at him, then raised both of his hands in front of himself, holding them away from Isaac. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating hard. Quickly, a flame appeared in his left hand, dancing over his fingertips. He nodded, and then the look of concentration increased.

As it did so, a pale white glow materialized on his right hand. The flame in his left flickered for a moment, but through a great show of control the mage forced it back up to its full force. Once it was back, he nodded again, and the glow in his right paw began building. He remained standing there like that for a few moments, panting hard, then killed both of the spells at once, nodding.

"It should work."

"What should work, kupo?"

The mage looked back to Isaac, and smirked, shrugging. "I'm about to try something that's never been done. If it works, I will have saved both you and Montblanc's lives at once."

"And if it doesn't, kupo?"

The mage seemed to weigh things in his mind for a moment, then said, "Montblanc will probably experience massive organ failure throughout his body, I'll be reduced to a pile of ashes, and you'll bleed out."

"Kupopo?" Isaac gasped, sitting up a bit. He instantly regretted it, though, as pain lanced through him. He bit his lip until it bled, and forced himself to lie back down, shaking a bit from the feeling.

Guinness reached out a paw over Isaac's chest, allowing some pale white light to sink into him. The pain faded for a moment, and Isaac managed to suck in a few gulps of air. Once the moogle seemed to have gotten comfortable again, Guinness spoke.

"There isn't a White mage alive who's strong enough to save you right now, Isaac. Particularly within a jagd. To be totally fair, the best chance we have of saving you now would be to cauterize the wound, and pray that the burns didn't kill you. Even then, though, I don't know if I would have the energy to both monitor the burn and heal your broken bones while replenishing your blood supply. At best, your bones wouldn't heal quite right, and you probably wouldn't be able to walk again."

There was silence while Isaac processed all this. Then, he muttered, his voice cracking a bit, "I take it back, kupo. Eugene has excellent bedside manners. _You_, on the other hand…"

Guinness smiled, giving a nod. "That's fair. Either way, I don't want to do that. So, what I'm planning is to get Montblanc to try and transfer all of his energy into me. I've been using Black magic lately, so I should be able to control it, and then use that power to fuel a healing spell."

"Using Black magic to cast White magic, kupo?" Isaac muttered. "Is that possible?"

"Absolutely. In the end, it's all magical energy: the only difference is how it's fuelled. With White magic, I use discipline to muster up enough energy to cast a spell. Black magic requires you to let your emotions go and summon chaos into a pure form of energy."

"And you can handle that power, kupo?"

"I hope so."

Isaac was interrupted from asking about that disturbing comment when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Guinness looked up, and Eugene's voice said, "He's here. Oh, and Isaac, Eileen's outside. Grans is keeping her company." As Isaac felt a flicker of relief, Eugene went on. "Why did you need him?"

"I have an idea," Guinness said, licking his lips a bit. "I'll need my Cure Staff to pull it off, though. Would you mind terribly much going and fetching it from the armoury?"

There was a pause. Though Isaac couldn't see him, he knew that Eugene's back was straightening, and he could almost feel the mage's eyes narrowing and see the skin on his brow tightening.

"What are you planning?"

Guinness, to his credit, made no visible reaction. He simply tilted his head a bit to the side, and said, "The Cure Staff is a weapon designed expressly for healing. I figure we'll need all of the help we can ge—"

"Guinness, I'm not an uppity little student you can wrap around your finger anymore." The ship's mage's voice had lowered, almost approaching what could be described as a growl. "You ask me to get a Black mage for a healing, then make a horrendous excuse to get me out of the area. You and I both know that you're powerful enough that a staff will make no difference in your abilities. I'll ask again: what are you planning?"

Guinness was quiet for a few long moments after this. He managed to keep his calm façade throughout, but finally, he sighed, and lowered his head. "You certainly did learn a lot working on an airship, didn't you? Fine. Both of you are very learned mages. I'm assuming you are familiar with the forbidden acts of magic?"

"Of course, kupo," Montblanc's voice replied. Isaac was surprised; when he'd last seen the Black mage, he'd been passed out on _the Fallen Star II _with barely enough strength to breathe. His voice did sound rough, but beyond that showed no strain. "Never attempt to revive the dead, never cast spells beyond your own level, never wield power that isn't your own, never—"

"That last one," Guinness said, interrupting Montblanc, "is what I intend to do."

The other two were silent for several long moments, assumedly staring at Guinness in shock. The White mage took advantage of this pause to speak.

"Montblanc, if you give me your energy, I'll be able to heal him. I can't think of another way. As well, all of the magical contamination in your body should pass to mine, and my body is more conditioned to handle it than yours. This is the only chance we may ever get to heal either of you."

"Yeah, at the cost of my magic, kupo!" Montblanc snapped, and Isaac's eyes widened at that statement. Doing this would make Montblanc lose his power?

"Your power is killing you, Montblanc! If you restrict yourself exclusively to Time magic from now on, I'd give you at best a year. With the contamination gone, though, Eugene and I might be able to repair a few of your organs."

"But I need my power, kupo!"

"What's more important? Your life or your magic?"

The two fell into a tense silence after Guinness's ultimatum. The air was beginning to feel a bit heavy, and though he wasn't used to it, Isaac managed to identify it as the small traces of magic that both spellcasters were letting out in light of their aggression. There was a slight shuffling of feet, and then Eugene was standing beside Isaac, clearly trying to busy himself with checking the moogle's vitals as the other two held their wordless argument.

Finally, Guinness said, his voice softer than before, "When you first came to me you asked me if there was any way to prolong your life. I'm certain you remember my response. Well, here's the only chance. You need your power so that you won't feel helpless anymore. I understand that. But you're useless to everyone if you're dead. You have a chance now to get that prolonged lifespan you wanted, and to be able to save another life at the same time. Please help me."

Montblanc let out a long breath. Then, his voice muttered, "I hate you, kupo." He stepped over, and then Isaac could see the moogle for himself. He was surprised. Montblanc's fur seemed noticeably more grey than last he had seen him, and his face was almost sunken. He looked down at Isaac for a second, then gulped, and looked over to Guinness. "How do we do this?"

"Direct contact is best," Guinness said, offering his left hand. Montblanc nodded, and laid his paw over the palm. "Good. Now, when I tell you to, send all of your energy out of that paw in a concentrated surge, understood? And Eugene, are you going to help us?"

"I have no choice now, do I?" Eugene reached into a pouch in his robes, withdrawing a very small but very sharp knife. "I have to stay here to protect Isaac in case your insane plan backfires."

"Good. Then when I tell you to, you have to undo his stitches so that they don't get into the way of the spell. Do it quick, and do it clean. As soon as you've finished the last one, give us the signal, and get back. We'll begin on your mark. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Kupo."

"Good. Isaac?"

"Yeah?" Isaac muttered, extremely confused. He really had no idea what the others were talking about. He wished Eileen was here to explain some of it to him, but after what they'd said, it seemed better that she was waiting outside.

"Once Eugene has removed your stitches, you'll begin losing blood quite fast. Odds are good that you'll pass out from blood loss before we've finished the healing. Just try and keep as steady as you can, and don't be afraid if you begin feeling dizzy. Do you understand?"

"K-kupo."

"Good." Guinness took a long, deep breath. Isaac could see his left hand tightening on Montblanc's paw, even as he reached down to lay the right one over Isaac's chest. Then, the nu mou let the breath out, glanced to Eugene, and nodded.

Eugene's expert fingers danced down the long line of stitching, moving his small knife down to knick the threads as it went by. Each time the knife flashed down, Isaac felt a small prick of pain from the pressure placed upon the thread. After he had gone about halfway down the slash along Isaac's chest, blood began welling up from the cut, spilling over the edges of the skin. By the time he had reached the last bit of stitching, the hem of Eugene's sleeve was smeared red with blood. He made the final cut, then stood back quickly, saying, "Go."

"Montblanc?"

The moogle's eyes clamped shut, and he bit down on his lip. Suddenly, the light in the space seemed to… shift. There was no other word for it. The amount of light in the air did not lessen; if anything, it increased. However, the new light being added was a contradiction of itself. This light was undoubtedly coloured black.

The odd black light gathered around Montblanc, seeming to come out from within him and then spiral in to enshroud his body. The moogle's eyes were clenched shut as the power welled up, but the pain was clear in the rest of his face. Occasionally, his nose would twitch, and his ears were moving spasmodically above his head, as though they had lives of their own.

It was as Isaac was watching Montblanc gathering his power that he first started feeling heavy. It was a very dull realization, and though he knew he ought to feel concerned about it, he couldn't seem to muster up the energy required to do so. Slowly, he glanced down at his chest, noting the large amount of blood bubbling up there. A good deal of it had spread across the stretcher, staining his fur wherever it touched.

Eugene seemed to notice his gaze, and walked over, looking Isaac over carefully. His eyes widened, and he quickly placed a hand to the moogle's side, sending a pulse of white light into him. The sense of heaviness lifted somewhat, but it continued growing relentlessly. As Eugene said something he didn't catch to Guinness, Isaac noted with some discomfort that he seemed to be shaking. At first, it was just the odd twitch every once and again. Soon, though, he could actually hear the clamouring of his fingers as they tapped hard on the stretcher's surface.

His attention was drawn away when Montblanc opened his eyes. Eugene and Guinness noticed it, too, and turned from their conversation to stare at the moogle. His eyes had done more than just turned yellow; no, now they were positively glowing, sending out a pair of soft yellow beams as the darkness gathered about him. Slowly, those shafts rose to Guinness.

The White mage took a deep breath, and nodded.

Suddenly, Montblanc's grip tightened on Guinness's hand, his short, blunt claws digging into the skin until they drew blood. Guinness didn't flinch, not even as the black light flowed down to the point of contact between them. The darkness concentrated there, blocking out all sight from that point, until soon nothing but a swirling ball of darkness was all that remained. Montblanc's yellow eyes regarded it evenly, not blinking or moving at all. Guinness, for his part, had scrunched up his face, and was beginning to nod rhythmically. Clearly, the energy was beginning to roll into him, as he kept giving small shakes and twitches.

Isaac was only aware of all this through a haze. Everything seemed to be growing further away, and the horrendous weight in his body was now being replaced by a floating sensation. His entire body felt like it was lighter than air. He was not aware that he was beginning to shake harder, or that beneath his fur the colour was disappearing from his skin. By chance, Eugene glanced back at the moogle, and yelled something, then began feeding more white light into him. This reeled him back in a little bit, but only for a short while.

Eugene's eyes closed as he forced more magic into Isaac, but his lip was already trembling with exertion. He pulled his hands away for a moment, and Isaac was surprised to see that they were covered in blood. Isaac's blood. Isaac realized this as the mage turned to say something to Guinness, probably urging him to hurry or something. Eugene's hands were covered in Isaac's blood. His blood…

Isaac lay his tired head back, and as Guinness opened his eyes, now glowing just as bright yellow as Montblanc's, and a thin trickle of blood dripped down from the mage's nose, the moogle lost all feeling in his body. His eyelids drooped down on their own, and everything faded away to nothing.

---

Much to his own surprise, Isaac woke up. He blinked as his eyes opened, not even looking around for a few moments. He remembered, during the last moments before he passed out, a sudden moment of clarity, during which he thought, _Oh, damn, they weren't fast enough. I guess that's it, then._

Now, though, he was back. And, strangely, all of the pain in his body was gone. There were a few slight aches here and there, but that was about it.

When he finally decided to process what his eyes were seeing, Isaac noticed that Eugene was staring down at him, looking concerned. Isaac blinked and shook his head.

"I'm alive, kupo?"

A grin crossed the nu mou's face, and he said, chuckling with relief, "So it would seem. Can you sit up?"

"Lend me a hand, kupo?"

Eugene reached down, and Isaac took his hand. He was surprised by how slippery it felt. He glanced at the hand, and his eyes widened.

"I…is that all _my_ blood, kupo?"

"Uh… yeah… it turns out that you bled far faster than we'd expected. The week of transportation must have torn the wound deeper, but the stitching kept us from noticing anything until we already had you open."

"…great, kupo." Finally, Isaac managed to sit up, swaying dizzily for a few moments. He leaned heavily on Eugene, just managing to pant out, "How long was I down?"

"Uh… about forty seconds."

"Kupopo?"

Eugene gestured, and Isaac looked up at last and around the space he'd been occupying. It was a very generic hull of a wrecked airship, which had had a few boards installed to act as shelves for healing equipment. A large fire was burning not far away, with a pot next to it for boiling water. The fire made the light dance around them, and also gave Isaac an extremely clear view of Guinness and Montblanc.

Guinness was leaning heavily against the hull's wall, still panting. Sweat had left large damp spots on his robes, which also sported a few stains from Isaac's blood. The nu mou's fur looked as though it was drooping a bit more than the last time Isaac had seen him, and there were noticeable grey patches where before his pelt had been mostly white. Despite that, the yellow glow that had filled his eyes before had gone, and beyond being short of breath, he looked fine.

Isaac looked over to Montblanc instead, and then his eyes truly widened. The other moogle was sitting on the earth, staring down at his hands. His fur had returned to its natural pastel brown shade, and was now fluffed out like most moogles'. His eyes had lost that sunken look they'd possessed, and they shone blue all the brighter. He was still looking a bit too thin for his own good, and he was clearly exhausted, but aside from that, he looked perfectly healthy.

As Isaac watched, the mage flexed his fingers, pointing forward violently. Nothing happened, and he returned to staring at them. Then, he spoke, and his voice was clear and unencumbered as it had been before.

"It's gone, kupo. It's all gone."

He looked like he was about to say more, but at that moment was interrupted. At the large hole in the hull a few feet away that served as a door, there was suddenly a flurry of movement. Isaac glanced over, and his eyes widened as he saw Eileen, holding the Zeus Mace in one hand, with a blaze of orange light covering her. Even as she was entering, she was speaking.

"Alright, I felt that energy. What the hell are you doing to—" She stopped when she saw Isaac staring at her, sitting on the edge of a stretcher, blood matting down his fur messily, but otherwise perfectly fine.

There was silence for a couple seconds. Then,

"Hey, kupo."

"Hey."

Again, silence reigned. Then, quite suddenly, Eileen had crossed the distance between them, and grabbed him up, crushing him into a tight embrace. For a moment, Isaac was genuinely concerned she would re-break a few of his bones, and was about to inform her of this, when he felt her breath on his ear as she whispered, "No more doing these things alone. Got that?"

"Y-yeah, kupo. Uh, I'm getting your robes all bloody."

"Shut up."

The two simply remained there for a while after that, Eileen holding Isaac up in that tight embrace. Very quietly, Eugene ushered Guinness and Montblanc out the door, where Grans stood watching with a bit of interest.

Once all of them were gone, Isaac bit his lip, then steeled himself.

"Hey, Eileen?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Ben. He… he didn't make it. I couldn't… Maxwell—"

"It's okay," she said, though he could feel her shaking. "Later, we'll talk about it. You'll tell me absolutely everything that happened, and I'll tell you it wasn't your fault. We'll deal with… with that then. For now, though, I need you to be here so I can know that you're alright."

"…Alright, kupo."

---

A/N: Ahoy, y'all. So, um, couple quick notes. Exams start next week, and so don't expect another chapter 'til sometime in May. Fortunately, after that, I'll be back home, so I might have more time to update.

Also, if anybody's curious about all of the reasoning behind Guinness's little manoeuvre there, just send me a PM or mention it in a review, and I'll give a full explanation. It just didn't seem like something that Guinness would just tell Isaac, seeing as Isaac isn't exactly a master of magic by any means.

Finally, yeah, I know this chapter may have seemed somewhat unnecessary to the storyline, but, well… I've been planning Montblanc's loss of power for a long time, and Guinness is a character who has fascinated me since I introduced him to the story.


	99. Judgement

"So let me get this straight… the only way that we can ever truly defeat the Totema is if the life blood of five Ultimates stains the same earth?"

"That's about right, kupo," Isaac nodded, biting his lip. He glanced over at Eileen a bit, but she kept her eyes steadily trained on Marche.

The human sat there for a few moments, taking it all in, then whispered, "And you're the only living Ultimate?"

"Kupo," Isaac nodded.

Again, silence reigned in the shadowy room. A few orbs of magelight were the only sources of illumination, set into sconces in the stone walls. The large, heavy table that they were all seated around dominated the space, making it difficult to step around or move about the room. At current, Marche sat at one head of the table, while Isaac was at the opposite end, Eileen sitting on his left and Rolf on his right. The other main members of Clan Nutsy were seated on Marche's side, with Montblanc right next to him. Also at the table were a few of the higher ranking mages that had come from Cadoan, three of the elders from the Red Dragoons, Owen, and Newman. Aside from Marche, nobody had spoken since Grans and Isaac had begun telling the story of what happened at New Cyril. When the leader of Clan Nutsy had asked the moogle why it was he had known that Khorin would go after him while Isaac was covering the refugees' retreat, Isaac had told the human all about Lady Emily's prophecy, knowing it wouldn't do to hold back.

Now that it was all out and on the table, everybody was sitting back heavily. Isaac leaned back as well, and closed his eyes. He could still feel the stares of several of those assembled around the table trained on him, though. He simply sat there, trying not to show any of his feelings as he waited for Marche to speak. The furs along the back of his neck were beginning to prick up in tension, but he managed to keep himself from moving about or showing any other sign of nerves.

"I need to think about this, now," Marche said at last, his voice extremely hesitant. After a moment, he added, "Would everybody but the core members of Nutsy please leave for a while? We can meet up in two hours. For now… I have to think."

Isaac, his eyes still closed, heard all of the heads at the table turning to look at him. He counted out a breath before he said, "Sounds good, kupo. Two hours?"

"Two hours. Thank you."

"No problem."

Without another word, Isaac pushed his seat back, and stood up. He left the room quickly, not opening his eyes until he had turned away from Marche and the other members of Nutsy. He didn't want to see their faces. He didn't want to see what they might be thinking of him, of his role in all of this. It was almost a relief to push through the door and step out into the equally dim brightness of the jagd's coliseum, or what remained of it.

As he stepped out of the room, he paused for a moment to take a long look around at the jagd. It had only been about a week since the members of the rebellion had taken up residence in the underground city, and it was already beginning to look a bit better. The mages of Cadoan had made it their personal responsibility to create as many light orbs as possible so that they could have some illumination beyond the pale green glow that filled the place. People walked the streets, and a few of the small-time merchants from the Red Dragons' camp at Roda Volcano had brought their carts with them, and had set about trying to decorate the shattered airship hulls and collapsed buildings in the bangaa style.

Eileen gave Isaac a slight prod, and he simply nodded, then turned and started walking down the stairs along the side of the coliseum's wall. The leaders of all of the groups currently staying in Helje had taken a room in the large structure as their meeting place. Eileen and Isaac both found it slightly uncomfortable, for the two of them were the only ones that had met the previous two lords of Helje. However, it was a convenient location, and they didn't complain.

Isaac and Eileen reached the bottom of the stairs, and passed by the massive collapsed section of the coliseum wall. They could hear the sounds of soldiers and mages practising within the arena, using the grounds to prepare for the battles ahead. The two stood there a short while, as the others present at the meeting filed past, a few casting glances at the moogle. Eventually they decided to go into the arena, and take a seat in the stands to speak. They stepped over the rubble of the wall, and climbed the stairs.

The other surprising thing both had found when they'd looked around a bit, particularly in the coliseum, was the apparent damage that Quin and Lini had caused when they had been destroying the gun factory several years previously. That wall had clearly been destroyed by a blast of Ultima, and there were one or two other large craters where charges had obviously been set off. Neither of them had ever asked their respective lovers about what had happened during their end of the mission to stop Diesel, and it seemed unlikely that they would ever find out.

As the two took seats beside each other, they both fell silent, watching the practise. Isaac quickly spied Cecilia, a blade and a shield clamped in her paws as she circled one of the bangaas in his former crew. She looked tense, but Isaac knew that her movements were deceptive. The two on the field sprung at each other suddenly, and had a quick exchange, before both backed off, and began circling again.

At length, Isaac said, "I had to tell them, kupo. I know I swore that I wouldn't, but Marche never would have accepted otherwise, and some of the refugees would have died."

"I know," Eileen said, not even looking over to him. "It was good thinking, on your part. And you did well in there: I don't think Marche will ever suspect that Maxwell has mastered Ultima."

"Let's hope not," Isaac muttered. He knew that Eileen was still a bit incredulous of his attempts to protect Maxwell from Clan Nutsy.

"You know, you should probably start carrying a blade with you all the time, now," Eileen whispered. The moogle looked over to her, and she went on. "This will get out. Even if Nutsy chooses not to act on the information, somebody else might get it into their heads to try and… well, you know."

"Right," Isaac nodded. "I'll try not to go out alone."

"Good."

The two fell silent again, watching the battles going on in the field. Across from them, the field had been split off into an area where mages could practise their spells. Occasional flashes of light kept emanating from that area, along with the occasional appearances of ice spires or plant growths. Isaac, watching, was impressed. It seemed that many of the mages that had been rebelling in Cadoan had been the more powerful ones. He had seen very few young nu mou since he'd arrived two days earlier.

"Your eyes are red."

"Kupopo?"

"Your eyes. They're bloodshot." Isaac turned his head a bit, trying to keep the perceptive mage from seeing him rubbing his eyes at the comment. "Have you slept at all?"

"Yes," Isaac said, and it wasn't quite a lie. He slept whenever he collapsed, unconscious, too tired to dream. Even then, he only slept for short whiles, forcing himself to wake far sooner than he should have. She didn't need to know that, though.

"You need your sleep, Isaac. With the battles we're fighting, even being a bit out of it might cost you."

"I know, kupo."

She paused, then said slowly, carefully, "Is it Ben?"

"No," he lied.

Eileen nodded very slowly, reaching over and running a hand over his back, which was shaking a bit after hearing the human's name. His face was still turned away from her, but she could feel the slight spasms running through his frame as her hand kneaded his fur and tense muscles.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I know."

"It wasn't anybody's fault."

"I know."

"You can't blame yourself."

"I know."

"…but?"

Isaac waited a bit, then whispered, "I couldn't do anything. I couldn't break him from it, I couldn't get through to him, I couldn't… I was helpless."

"Nobody could do anything," Eileen said, though she herself had had the same thoughts several times since Isaac had told her of Ben's death. Her hand rubbed harder at the moogle's back for a short while, and then she said, "We'll beat the palace, Isaac. We'll defeat them, and set the world back to normal, and we'll see both of them again."

"But what if we're wrong, kupo?" Isaac asked, still not looking at her. "What if all we actually do is destroy everything? Or what if we get back and Jacqueline and Ben are still…" He choked, then coughed a bit, and was silent. Eileen, having no answers, didn't say anything.

After a few more minutes of this, Eileen pulled her hand away, and Isaac turned back, his face under control again. Both sat back in their seats, and were silent as they watched everybody fighting across the fields.

"You know," Eileen said at long last, and Isaac looked to her, "I can't help thinking… if all of this were real, and we weren't trying to destroy this world and bring our friends back to life… I think I'd still be doing what I am now."

"Kupopo?"

"The Palace… what it's doing is wrong. This world… it's wrong. It's supposed to be a beautiful and wondrous place, but it's not. Ivalice is a paradise. If I had been born here, with all of this power and all of these abilities, I would still fight the palace with everything I had. What about you?"

Isaac didn't answer as she looked to him. His eyes seemed shadowed, and he was almost counting things up in his head, it looked like. Finally, he said, "I don't know. I hate to say it, but if things hadn't have happened as they did in Sprohm, and I mean everything, then… Max would probably still side with the Palace. He would go with them and try to stop as many deaths as possible. And Ben would probably go with you, and Jacqueline might go either way depending on her mood at the time, and Thomas…" his voice caught in his throat again as thinking about the juggler brought a new wave of feeling over him. He paused to breathe for a short while, and Eileen didn't push him. "Thomas would probably end up with the Palace. And I don't know who I would fight with. I don't know if I could fight. I… I would just be useless and in the way again, I guess."

"And you would probably be the most right out of all of us," Eileen said, sitting back. She thought for a few seconds, then asked, "If… if we ever do get back to St Ivalice, what do you think you'll do?"

Isaac remained sitting for a short while. Eventually, he just said, "I always figured I would be a mechanic, kupo. It's what I'm good at. It's what I lo—"

"No it's not."

"Kupopo?"

"Hasn't this entire experience taught you anything, Isaac?" Eileen looked at him, and he could only stare, confused. "You're good at mechanics, and there's nothing wrong with loving to fix and build things. But it's not who you are. You're a pacifist, Isaac, and you're a quick thinker. You could do… so much good in the world. I don't know how, but… it's what I feel when I look at you."

Isaac kept looking at her for a short time. Finally, he said, very drily, "Did you see my last report card, kupo?"

The two stared at each other. Then, at once, both burst out laughing, shaking their heads at how ridiculous the situation was. A couple of bangaa who were practising near to them glanced over in annoyance, then moved along, but the two didn't care.

Finally, Isaac asked, gasping a bit for air, "Alright, well, what about you, kupo? What if you get back to St Ivalice?"

"Same plan as always," she said, leaning back and cracking her fingers. "Finish high school, and go to university somewhere."

She sat there relaxing after saying this, but Isaac looked over at her in surprise. After a moment or two, he said, "University… that means you would leave St Ivalice, kupo?"

"…uh, yeah. I guess so."

"Would you come back?"

"I… I don't know."

Isaac stared at her for a long while after that, his brain going into overdrive. That was right… it made perfect sense. He'd always known that Eileen wanted to go to university somewhere. Jacqueline and Maxwell too, probably. Perhaps not Ben, but he would certainly want to go to college. And Isaac… he would stay in St Ivalice, getting an apprenticeship somewhere. There was no way of telling if any of the others would ever come back. And if they did, would they still be his friends, or would they have changed, or…

"Oh Famfrit," Isaac whispered, sitting back again. Eileen looked over to him, cocking her eyebrow a bit in confusion. "Nothing. It's just… we're old, aren't we, kupo?"

"Even though Rolf or Grans might try to tell us otherwise… yeah, we are pretty old. Why?"

Isaac didn't reply for a while. Then, he said, his voice barely a whisper, "If we get back to St Ivalice, kupo, and if we remember any of this, I… I don't want to be the only one left behind."

Eileen stared at him for a few seconds, shocked by the words. Then, she spoke hurriedly, "We wouldn't leave you behind, Isaac! I mean, even if we left, we would write to you, or you could get an apprenticeship in another town, or—"

"Right, right," Isaac said quickly, shaking his head. "Never mind, kupo. Doesn't matter anyways…"

"No, Isaac, it's important, we—"

"It's alright, kupo," Isaac said, looking at her to let her know he wasn't lying. "I just… I had never thought about it before. It just surprised me for a minute."

"We all care about you, Isaac, you know that, right?"

"…yeah. I know. It was a stupid thought. Besides, we still need to get back to St Ivalice before we can worry about that, kupo. So, what's going to be next on our list of things to do?"

"Well," Eileen began, but stopped quite suddenly as a voice called both of their names. The pair turned, and saw Owen standing by the hole in the wall, beckoning to them.

"Must have come to a decision, kupo."

"Right," Eileen nodded, and they both stood up. She held him back for a moment, and said, "Remember, if Marche decides… well, if things come down to it, Rolf, Newman and I can back you up. There are still safe spots around Ivalice we can get to. We could even try to track down the viera. You've got protection, though."

"I know," Isaac nodded, then turned away, and began walking away.

The tone in his voice, though, told Eileen much. She stood there for a few seconds, realising that if Marche chose to sacrifice Isaac in order to defeat the Totema, he would go along with it. A small shudder of repulsion went up her spine, then she jogged to catch up to him.

The two, led by Owen, went back up the long steps, and ducked into the room again. Everybody else was already gathered, and everybody looked up to stare at Isaac as he and Eileen stepped inside. The two of them and Owen took their seats, and Marche cleared his throat, drawing the attention to him.

The paladin looked very tired as he stood there. Around him, several of the members of Clan Nutsy had the same look about them. Montblanc, whose eyes had been a bit hollow since the moogle had lost his power, was resting his head on his hands on the table, clearly deep in thought. Grans' casual face was strained a bit as she let her gaze wander from Isaac to Marche and back again. Guinness' fingers were tapping against the stone table in a hard rhythm, his eyes crinkling with thought. Caitlin's eyes were glued to Marche, and they were very sharp and critical. Next to her, Lindsay was sitting perfectly still, her eyes slightly clouded. It took Isaac a few moments to realise that she must have had a vision quite recently; those seemed to be the only times that she was tranquil.

At long last, the human spoke. "Thank you for telling me what you have today. I have great respect for your bravery in doing so. The situation is… unfortunate, to say the least. It complicates our goal immensely. However, Clan Nutsy has never been the kind of group to turn on one of our own." Isaac felt Eileen relaxing next to him as Marche finished, "You have my protection, and the protection of my clan, so long as all this goes on."

"But this is madness!" A nu mou in the pale blue robes of a Time mage stood up from his seat, drawing all of the attention to him. He pointed at Isaac, and said, "If one moogle's life can turn the tides in this war, then why do we hesitate to do it? The Palace would do it in an instant; how can we hope to combat them if we put ourselves at a disadvantage?"

There was silence around the table as the nu mou finished speaking. Nobody missed Marche or Caitlin's hands going to the hilts of their weapons, or the pale orange glow slowly appearing around Eileen. The nu mou that had spoken, feeling the aggression in the room, let his own magical aura show somewhat, as pale blue light gathered about him.

All of them stopped abruptly, though, as Rolf, sitting back comfortably, said, "You know, he's right."

Everybody turned to stare at the captain. Out of all those present he seemed the least likely to take the side opposing Isaac in all this; how could he be the one suggesting that they go ahead with it? Slowly, he glanced up at the Time mage, and went on.

"So, seeing as you suggested it, I guess you'll take responsibility for killing him?" Rolf said, more of a casual statement than a question.

"Excuse me?"

"That moogle," Rolf said, nodding towards Isaac. "You'll kill him. If my knowledge of history doesn't fail me, many battles happened in Helje before it was sunk into the ground, including a major battle in the War of the Two Princes during which a bangaa ultimate was cut down, and the Great Aerial Battle of Helje, during which the ship that the ultimates of the viera, the nu mou, and the humans were riding in was shot down. So, if you kill him here, it should do the trick. Oh, right." He paused, and quickly drew out his blade. He placed it on the table, and slid it hilt-first towards the nu mou. "You can use this, seeing as we need his blood. Just drag him out to the arena grounds. One deep cut across the throat should do the trick."

The entire room was deathly silent as the Time mage stared at the blade on the table before him, then looked over at Isaac. The moogle met his gaze and held it, not allowing himself to betray any emotions.

After several long moments, the Time mage ducked his head, and sat back down. He wordlessly pushed the blade across the table, back to Rolf, then pulled the hood of his robe up and made no other sound.

Without pausing to acknowledge the event, Marche began speaking. "Alright, our next job should be to plan our attack on the prison. If we can take hold of it, the palace not only loses one of its greatest resources for inciting fear, but our numbers will be greatly bolstered. Owen, we'll need your help for much of it. For now, give us a general idea of what we're getting ourselves into, and then we can start making a few loose plans while you help us create a few more concrete maps and such."

"Right," Owen said, standing up hesitantly and looking around at the assembled group. The young human was clearly nervous, but he managed to swallow, and then said, "The prison is more of a fortress than a normal jailhouse. It was designed to withhold attacks; just as good at keeping people in as keeping people out. Mages are forced to wear special bonds that restrain their powers. Most of the bangaas and the more powerful humans are kept with their ankles and wrists manacled, normally in solitary confinement. The cells themselves are kept in constant darkness, so that the prisoners can't look for any flaws and plan an escape. There are normally about a hundred guards on duty."

"By now, that number will have gone up," Marche murmured, nodding a bit. "They're expecting an attack. Any guesses for the max number of soldiers that could be held there?"

"No," Owen shook his head apologetically. "I only ever really knew the holding areas. The only times I saw the prison from the outside was when I was brought there and while I was escaping."

"Of course," Marche nodded. "Tell me, Owen, how well do you think you still know the inside?"

"The inside?" Owen laughed, somewhat bitterly. "Whenever they took us out for exercise or for food or to clean the holding areas, we had to crawl with our eyes closed, or else they would sting from the torchlight. I memorised how to get around those halls blind. Why?"

Marche nodded at this, then said, "This is what I'm thinking. Now that the Queen knows that we have Owen, she'll be expecting attack. She'll send actual soldiers to bolster their defences, and probably an officer as well. Now, Llednar's responsibility is to guard the prince. Maxwell spent two straight days doing hard fighting last week, and from what Grans says, he was heavily injured afterwards. The Queen will give him a break. She needs the captain of her air fleet to keep patrolling the skies, seeing as nobody else can take that job, and they'll be hoping to capture either the _Red Flash_ or the _Fallen Star II_ somewhere. That leaves Khorin.

"If Khorin is in charge of the defence of the prison, our risks in this attack grow all the more. We will be attacking them, even though they have an entire prison full of hostages."

Everybody in the room blinked at this; none had thought of that possibility before. However, even as he was horrified by the idea, Isaac knew that Khorin would do it without hesitation; and, worst of all, he would follow through with such a threat all too happily. The few whispered discussions cut off as the paladin continued.

"So, our attack will have two fronts. First, our main force will attack the prison head on, just as we are expected to do. That will draw most of the military force to the walls to defend us, and the guard presence within the prison will be lessened. Using the attack as a distraction, a small group, with Owen as a guide, will enter in secret and either free or attempt to protect the prisoners while we continue the attack outside."

"It's a good plan. But you want _me_ to lead that group?" Owen asked, looking surprised.

"No," Marche said, shaking his head. "You're not used to being in charge in a situation like that. I need somebody used to the command role and who will ensure the safety of the prisoners at all costs. So," the human looked across the table, and his eyes fell sharply on Isaac, "how about it?"


	100. The Team

Isaac glanced up a bit at the sharp rap on the door, blinking. He stuttered for a second, then said, "Come in, kupo."

Eileen pushed the door of the shack open, and was forced to take a step back at the wave of heat that rolled out. She shielded her face for a second with her robe, sputtering, "What in Ultima's name are you doing in here?"

"Sorry, just a second, kupo," Isaac said. Eileen heard a few sharp, metallic noises, along with some footsteps. There was a slight screech, and then the heat lessened somewhat. Eileen was able to remove her robe from her face and actually look at Isaac, and when she did, she could only blink and shake her head.

The moogle was standing in a small but well-furbished smithy, wearing a heavy leather apron and gloves, as well as a pair of spelled goggles. In his paws he held the handle that opened and closed the furnace, completely covered in soot and radiating heat. The moogle's fur was streaked with sweat and soot, and he looked like he was panting.

Isaac finally turned back to Eileen, pulling off the gloves and then pulling off the goggles. He shook himself out a bit to get some of the dirt from his fur, then said, "Sorry, kupo. I found some of Diesel's old moulds, so I figured I would try to make a few bullets."

"Right," Eileen nodded, stepping into the sweltering smithy as Isaac worked at removing his apron. She watched him for a few moments, then asked, "So, have you thought about it?"

"You mean Marche's request, kupo?" When Eileen nodded, he sighed. "Yeah, kupo. I think I'm going to do it. Somebody's got to keep that suicide mission from going wrong."

Eileen nodded again, leaning back against the one table in the smithy. "Makes sense. How many people did Marche say you could take with you?"

"Ten at most, kupo," Isaac said, finally pulling off the apron and tossing it onto the table. "I don't think I'll even bring that many, though. If we get discovered, it won't make a difference if we've got ten or five, in the middle of enemy territory, kupo. I'm assuming you're just coming back from one of the strategy meetings?"

"Yes," Eileen nodded, then bit her lip a bit. "We finally managed to figure out the exact location of the prison from Owen's descriptions."

"And?"

"Jagd Ahli."

Isaac looked up sharply at that name, his eyes widening. Eileen nodded at his horrified expression, and didn't press him when he turned away from her to stare out the window for a few moments.

"They don't get it, do they, kupo?"

"What?"

"The palace. They don't get that by forcing us into these corners, it'll just cause more casualties on both sides. So much of this death seems completely unnecessary."

Eileen watched his back for a bit longer. When she replied, she simply said, "Have you decided who you're going to have on your team?"

Isaac sighed, then picked the apron back up. He tugged it on, and said, "Well, Owen of course is in the group, which is just as well; he'll probably be quite good with stealth. I was also going to see if Vili would come along with us. An assassin would be really useful. Between those two and a couple of stopshots, we could finish a battle before it started."

As Isaac tugged on his gloves and positioned his goggles, Eileen took a step back from the furnace. She hesitated a few seconds, then asked, "What about magical support?"

Isaac stopped with his paw on the handle of the furnace, his frame growing tense. Then, he muttered, "Stand back, and cover your eyes, kupo."

Eileen did as she was told, and a few moments later, the intense heat washed back over her. It was only for a few moments, and then she heard the furnace being slammed shut again. She turned and saw that Isaac had withdrawn a mould with a set of tongs, and was placing it at a cooling rack. Finally, as Isaac stepped away from the bullets, he murmured, "It's going to be too dangerous for a mage, kupo."

"As if," Eileen snorted, shaking her head. Isaac still didn't look to her, so she went on. "You know as well as I do that they'll have mages guarding that place. Some of the cells will probably have magical locks, too. You need a mage."

"It's going to be dangerous, Eileen."

"Obviously. But I've been in dangerous situations before."

Isaac looked like he was about to argue, but then just stopped, and shook his head in annoyance. He turned about and glanced at the mould he had used for the bullets, glancing inside at the small, cooling bits of metal. Eileen watched him for a few moments, then walked up behind him to look at them herself.

"Those will warp if you shoot them."

"Kupopo?"

"The metal isn't good enough quality. It'll bend or break when you fire."

"How can you tell?"

"I'm an alchemist, Isaac; I do know a little something about blacksmithing. Here, you need to keep the liquid metal in constant motion until you pour it in, and make sure you keep the amounts you put in each mould equal. They'll shrink while they cool, as well, so you'll have to tighten up the mould over time to compensate for that."

She helped him to get some more metal heating, and the two of them sat back, waiting for it to liquefy. Eileen stepped over to the mould with the previous batch of bullets in it, and used the tongs to open it and dump out the cooling lumps. She shook her head at them; they were far from straight, and the tips barely tapered down at all. She turned back to Isaac, and gestured towards the would-be bullets.

"See? You can't do anything without me."

Isaac looked down at the bullets, then at her, then back at the bullets. He chewed his lip for a few seconds, and looked like he was on the edge.

"Come on, Isaac," Eileen said at last. "You promised me. No more doing these things alone."

The moogle was quiet for a few more minutes. Then, finally, he asked, "Why do you want to do this, kupo?"

The nu mou leaned against the table, and thought about it for a few moments. Then, she said, very slowly, "I'm never there. Whenever the people I care about need me, I'm not there. There's always some other responsibility I have to look after. Auggie, Jacqueline, Quin, and now Ben… I wasn't there for any of them. I don't want to be left behind anymore. I'm strong enough to fight. I should be there."

Isaac seemed to think about it for a few more moments, then got up and headed to the furnace. He was about to reach to open it, but his paw stopped suddenly. He glanced back at Eileen, and grinned. "Make my bullets for me, kupo."

"Done."

"You're on the team."

Eileen grinned, and walked over to the furnace, while Isaac backed off. He watched her work for a while, making sure to pay attention to what she was doing. As she was pouring the metal into a new mould, the nu mou glanced at him a bit, then whispered out, "So, who else are you thinking about?"

"For the team?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not sure, kupo. Right now I've got you, Owen and I was thinking I might ask Vili. Beyond that… I don't know, kupo."

Eileen nodded, then asked, "Would you mind if I brought Adrian along?"

"Adrian?" Isaac asked, cocking an eye at her and trying to remember. Then, he nodded a bit, recalling. "Your student."

"Yes. I know he'll find a way to get himself involved in the battle somewhere, and I'd prefer it if he was beside me when things get crazy."

"Has he got any battle experience, kupo?"

"None. His magic is powerful, though."

Isaac nodded, leaning back against the table. He thought for a moment, then said, "Alright. I think Cecilia might be joining us as well."

"Cecilia?"

"Yeah. Speaking of which," Isaac's eyes narrowed a bit, and he seemed to deflate somewhat, "I still need to tell her about July, kupo."

Eileen finished pouring the metal into the moulds, and tightened them a bit, glancing over at Isaac. "Are you going right now?"

"I think so, kupo."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No. I should tell her on my own."

The two were quiet as they stood in the sweltering smithy, each one lost in their own thoughts. Every once in a while, Eileen would reach over and tighten the mould a bit more, checking to make sure that they were cooling properly.

"I've got a two ranged specialists with melee abilities, two combat spellcasters, a melee specialist with some support magic, and a stealth specialist, kupo." Isaac thought for a moment, then said, "The only thing I'm missing is somebody with brute strength, in case we need to push through anywhere or hold off any enemies."

Eileen turned to him and nodded, wiping the sweat from her brow. "You told me that Maxwell was training a girl to fight. What about her?"

"You mean Amy, kupo? But she's so young…"

"Probably about as old as Cecilia or Adrian. Not to mention, with the Red Dragons she probably saw as much combat as Cecilia, if not more. And as much as I hate to admit it, anybody trained by Maxwell has to be good."

Isaac sighed, and gave a slight nod. He started cleaning up all of the things he'd been using to make the bullets, then stopped, glancing over at Eileen in alarm. "Hey, you realise the group we just decided on, right?"

Eileen glanced at him for a moment, confused. Then, her eyes lit up, and she gasped. "Five future Ultimates."

The two stared at each other for a few moments, neither wanting to breathe. Then, Isaac asked, "You think it's a coincidence, kupo?"

"As if."

"Right."

"You know that something's going to happen on this mission, right?"

"Kupo."

"Good."

"Here's hoping we all survive it."


	101. Briefing

"You know, when July left me with you, I knew that something was wrong, kupo," Cecilia said, her voice soft. Her eyes were on the wall, not even flicking over to acknowledge Isaac's presence. The older moogle didn't mind; he simply sat back and listened. "I already knew that she was doing illegal things; I helped her on a few of them. But I never thought that she… kupo."

"July can take care of herself," Isaac offered, raising a look of gratitude from Cecilia. "I doubt she would let herself get too roughed up."

"You're right," she replied, giving a slight nod. "Still, it's been two years, kupo. Who knows what could have happened."

"She's alright," he told her forcefully, trying to assure himself as much as her. "But we can make sure that she'll stay alright by breaking her out. How does that sound?"

Cecilia exhaled sharply through her nose, then gave herself a slight shake. "Good, kupo."

Isaac gave her a small glance, then asked, "Are you sure you want to do this, kupo? If not, you don't have to. It's your choice."

"No, I'll do this," she said, still not looking at him. She set her gaze, and nodded a bit. "I want to. If you hadn't have asked me to join your team, captain, I would have asked if I could join."

"Good," Isaac said, standing up. He glanced around a bit, and then said, "We should get going, kupo. I told Eileen and the others that we would meet up at the arena soon. And stop calling me captain."

Cecilia gave a sharp nod, and got up as well. Isaac led her out of the ruined airship hull that the crew of the _Red Flash_ had taken over as their barracks for when they weren't out on their ship. The pair of moogles nodded to the couple crewmembers that they passed, and then headed out into the makeshift streets. These had been cleaned up a good deal of all of the wreckage still left over from the battle hundreds of years ago, and were beginning to become quite useable.

As they walked, Isaac kept dodging glances at the other moogle, doing his best to not be too noticeable. She had shown very little reaction when he'd informed her of July's arrest. Perhaps, as she'd said, she had known that it would happen eventually, and thus wasn't surprised. However, Cecilia had always been one to internalize many of her feelings. Often, the stronger she felt about something, be it fear, sadness, or happiness, the smaller her reaction would be.

There was no telling, though. Isaac figured that it would probably be best to leave her be, for the time being. She would handle her emotions in whatever way fitted her best. Once they got July out of the prison, she would be fine. He hoped.

After a few minutes of walking, the pair finally approached the wrecked coliseum. As they approached, they could see that the others were waiting for them in the hole in the wall. Isaac took a deep breath, then set his gaze as they reached the rest of the group.

"Alright, everybody, thanks for meeting here, kupo, and even more so for agreeing to take part in this job. I'm sure all of you already know what the mission is, from either the information we've given or the gossip that's no doubt been going around, but I'll go over the mission at hand just in case, kupo."

He paused for a moment to look around at the assembled group, letting his gaze journey over each one of them in turn. He paid the closest attention to Amy, as he had spent the least time with her. She stood with her arms crossed, a blade worn casually at her hip. She was dressed simply, in the manner of the bangaa that had come to live around Roda Volcano. She was tapping her foot, clearly a bit impatient from his pace. Isaac smiled inwardly as he considered her: rash, aggressive, and as different from Maxwell as could be.

Isaac went on, taking a deep breath to continue. "As you all know, the rebellion is preparing for a major battle. Our target, as seems to be well known by now, kupo, is the prison holding all of the rebels and dissenters the palace has managed to round up. Most of those able to fight will be taking part in the main battle. However, I've been ordered to lead a small team into the prison itself as the battle begins in order to protect the prisoners. You six, kupo, are the ones I chose for my team." He waited for this to sink in, and then asked suddenly, "Can any of you tell me what our responsibility is, then?"

The moogle waited, watching all of them. He knew he had caught them off guard with his question. He managed to catch Eileen's eye, and she gave a quick nod, understanding what he was planning. From her, his gaze went to Adrian, standing just beside her. The young nu mou wore his robes somewhat messily, the hem of them clearly dirtier than the rest. The Alchemist's hat with the white eye of an apprentice upon it sat on an angle on his head, a bit wrinkley and crooked from being crushed too many times. As Isaac watched, he raised a hand uncomfortably.

"Yes?"

"To rescue the prisoners at all costs?"

Isaac seemed to consider this response for a moment. Then, he said, "Define 'all costs', kupo."

Adrian started in surprise, then stuttered hurriedly, "Well, uh, I guess we do everything we have to to keep them safe." When Isaac cocked an eyebrow at him, the nu mou added, "Including, uh, fighting to the death, if you'll excuse my dramatics."

"Wrong, kupo," Isaac stated, and Adrian winced a bit. The moogle sighed inwardly, and said, "Your thoughts are in the right place, kupo, but your methods aren't the best. Do you intend to die while on this mission?"

"N-no…"

"Then I suggest you don't plan on it. There are seven of us entering the prison. There are hundreds of unarmed and probably malnourished prisoners we have to defend from however many guards they don't have at the walls. As it stands, kupo, we'll be excessively outnumbered. If any one of us goes down, the odds of the rest of the group surviving drops significantly. If the entire group dies, nobody will be defending the prisoners. So, the plan: nobody dies, and we let nobody touch the prisoners, kupo."

"But that's ludicrous!" Vili burst out, drawing the attention of the rest of the group. She was staring at the moogle incredulously, a hand on her hip. "With all due respect, sir, you can't walk into this kind of mission assuming a best case scenario. When all of us agreed to take this job, we knew the risks involved. If one of us dies, we do it willingly."

Isaac gave a slight nod at that, then said, "You definitely have a point, kupo." He cast his gaze around the rest of the group, smirking. "And I get the feeling you aren't alone in your opinion. So, tell me, Vili, let's assume that early on in the mission, you get killed. What happens, kupo?"

Vili was caught off guard for a moment. Then, she shrugged, and said, "The mission continues, as best as it can."

"How?" Isaac asked, tilting his head a bit. "Think: you're our stealth specialist on this team, kupo. I'm going to be relying on you to scout ahead to give us advance warning of upcoming groups of soldiers. Without you, we will be walking forward with no idea of what to expect. Also, kupo, in battles, you'll be responsible with getting to enemy archers and mages and shutting them down before they can fire. Owen and I can fire back reactively to these units, but only at great risk to ourselves and the other members of the party. Finally, kupo, your skills as an assassin mean that you can end a battle before it begins. So, tell me, what happens if you die early on?"

To her credit, Vili looked as though she tried to come up with a rebuke to this; however, after a few moments, she slumped down a bit, saying nothing, but giving a slight nod to show her understanding.

"That goes for all of us, kupo," Isaac said, turning to the others. "Without Owen, we have no idea where we're going, and we lose heavy long and mid ranged combat support. Adrian and Eileen are our only two mages, and if one goes down, it means the other has to use more energy, exhausting themselves earlier, kupo. Cecilia, Amy and I are our main line of defence to the rest of you. On top of that, Cecilia has healing skills and can hinder our enemies greatly, Amy is our physically strongest member without whom it will be much more difficult to get through barriers, and I'm our only source of long ranged support abilities."

Isaac paused for another moment, letting his words sink in for all of them. This was the most important thing, as he had learned from Lini. He had to make sure that all of them knew exactly how important they themselves were to the operation. The last thing that he needed was somebody pulling an unnecessary heroic move.

As soon as he felt he'd given them enough time, the moogle went on. "Our mission is different from that of our companions. It is equally dangerous, but in different ways. The main difference that you have to understand between a rescue mission with seven members and a massive battle with an army is that we are all we have. There are no reinforcements. We can't call in somebody else to take your place, kupo. We go in alone, we operate alone, and we get our job done with only what we've brought with us. If you die, you let all of your comrades down as well. So, in light of that situation, remember to watch out for each other. Each of us has different responsibilities to protect the entire team. Mages counter enemy spells and provide support. Melee fighters don't let anybody past them. Rangers pepper the enemy mages and rangers, kupo, and don't let them concentrate long enough to retaliate at any of us."

"What if we get into a no win situation?" Owen asked. He didn't look as though he were protesting to the moogle's words, sitting on the ruins of the coliseum's walls. His gaze was steady as he watched Isaac, his arms clasping his greatbow over his knees. "You can say all you want, and though I understand and I agree with you, it won't be possible for all of us to survive if we wind up in a battle against a few dozen of their guards on their own turf."

"If such a situation comes about, then Eileen and I will punch a hole through the enemies for you, kupo, and you five go ahead."

"What happened to not making sacrifices?" Amy snapped.

"Isaac and I can use Ultima," Eileen answered for the moogle, drawing the bangaa's attention. "As well, the two of us have known each other longer than some of you have been alive. So long as the five of you are with us, we'll fight defensively alongside you. If it's just the two of us, we'll let loose and be a bit less safe. Besides, the five of you are still a very balanced team without the two of us."

"That's a worst case scenario, though, kupo," Isaac said, shrugging. "If it does happen, command falls to Vili, since she's the most experienced in live combat situations."

Slowly, the other five nodded; Vili and Owen first, then Cecilia and Owen more hesitantly, and finally Amy, looking extremely unhappy about the entire situation. Isaac cast his gaze over at Eileen, and she nodded. They both picked up on the unsaid message: if anything were to go wrong in this mission, Amy would be the source.

"So, kupo," Isaac finally said, looking around at all of them. "I've got the coliseum booked for the next four hours. We'll practise group battle tactics for that time. As well, every night until the mission, we'll spend two hours training. Try to spend as much time with each other over the next couple weeks as possible, and get to know each other's natural rhythms, kupo. We live and die together now, kupo. We head out the day after tomorrow."

---

A/N: Alrighty, then. Hello, all! Sorry for the short chapter.

Didn't feel like putting anything special at the end of last chapter because I don't think it's right to celebrate a hallmark like 100 chapters, 'cause it seems like you're celebrating an ending. So, here's some fun trivia to celebrate chapter 101, the continuation of the story:

When I introduced Cheney in chapter 13, before he'd actually had his name said or anything, I was going to make him a random hunter named Guinness. Then, I thought it would be cool if I gave him Ultima, to show how powerful it was, and how powerless my characters were. Then, I figured I would name him Cheney, just to be sneaky, 'cause he was the character you got with Ultima in the game. As a result, I used Guinness for the name of Nutsy's healer, 'cause I like that name. And when I introduced Pallanza in chapter 21, I just chose a random bangaa from my file. It wasn't until several chapters later that I realised who he was. And that… well, that more or less explains where two and a half of my major story arcs came from, and most of the cool back-story I 'cleverly' introduced.

Originally, I planned on having Jacqueline dying accidentally while trying to cover for Isaac in a battle. Then, there would have been a bunch of guilt tripping and poorly placed rage. Scrapped that plan, though, and tried going for something a bit more excessive.

When I mentioned the nameless assassin with Clan Nutsy just before the battle with Llednar, I had no idea who she was. It wasn't until several chapters had passed that I realised she was Vili.

I've cut two story arcs completely out of this story I was planning on. One incorporated the flame-enhanced gun Isaac found early in the story. There was supposed to be an underground market in illegal arms dealing in Cadoan, selling weapons that made abilities so effective that they damaged the user. This got scrapped, though, when I couldn't fit it in, anywhere.

The other was going to take place between the end of the Avuir Recovery arc and the Sprohm Incident. The team was originally going to go down to Jagd Helje to attack Diesel (note the lack of Thomas), and Isaac was going to get separated from the others in a fight with Diesel. The others would be fighting the guards and the undead. Maxwell, high on adrenaline, would summon Adrammalech, and Isaac would get accidentally caught in the blast. The blast would destroy most of the jagd, and the others would have to leave without finding Isaac due to their wounds. Shortly after they leave, Babus would teleport in, having felt the magical aura of a totema being unleashed. He would search through the wreckage, and find Isaac, barely alive. He would bring Isaac back to the palace, where their mages would heal him up, and he would wake with amnesia. Isaac would end up working with the palace on Babus's team for a while, allowing me to flesh out Babus, and also introduce Robert's father and build a bit on Caitlin and Robert's backstory. I cut it out because I realised the story was getting ridiculously long enough on its own.


	102. The Operation Begins

"Hey, Isaac, kupo!"

Isaac turned his head for a moment to glance at the source of the call, then jumped back. As Cecilia's blade passed by just in front of his chest, he stepped in again, placing himself so that any backhand she attempted would be awkward and difficult. Instead, she punched forward with the round, wooden shield she carried.

Seeing her action, Isaac pushed his own blade forward, using it to slow the attack just a bit. He kicked a foot out, and hooked it behind her ankle. In a quick movement, he pulled his foot back, forcing her to balance precariously on the one foot. Setting himself, Isaac pushed forward against her shield a bit harder, and knocked her over backwards.

He stepped away, panting, as she fell back and landed hard on the cool sand. The two of them remained where they were for a few moments, breathing heavily and watching each other. Then, Isaac nodded and offered her a paw, which she took with a smirk.

"Nice shield work, kupo," Isaac commented, pulling her up to her feet. "You've been training with Kurt, haven't you?"

"Well you weren't around to show me how to use the blade, kupo," she said, shrugging a bit.

Isaac nodded, then glanced over at the stands again. "How about you go and train with Amy for a while? I'll be right back."

Cecilia nodded back, and so Isaac turned away and began walking to the stands. As he approached, Montblanc stood up, giving a small wave. Isaac walked up the stairs, and smirked at him a bit.

"Hey, kupo. What's up?"

"Nothing much," Montblanc said, licking his lips a bit. He was tapping his foot on the floor, and his bright blue eyes were darting around the stadium. Isaac was about to say something, when the other moogle said quite suddenly, "I need your help, kupo."

Isaac paused a bit, eying him curiously. Then, he asked, "With what, kupo?"

Montblanc eyed him uncomfortable a bit, then turned to the seat he'd been sitting in. He grabbed a rod that was leaning up against it, and turned back to Isaac. He ducked his head a bit, uncomfortably, and then pointed a paw out over the field. He took a deep breath, then flexed his fingers and whispered, "_Blitz._"

The two of them waited for some time, with no lightning appearing. Montblanc made a few more attempts, using different spells and hand gestures, but nothing happened. Finally, he sighed, and lowered his paw, growling a bit. "Nothing, kupo. I can't get anything out. Even when I push myself as hard as I can, I can't get any magic out."

"You probably just need to let yourself build it back up, kupo," Isaac said quickly, trying to be supportive. "I mean, Guinness said that you would probably have to start over again, like a student, kupo."

Montblanc was already shaking his head, muttering, "No, kupo. Even an absolute beginner in magic should be able to cast the simple spells. I bet if I gave you this rod right now, you could pull it off." He bit his lip, then said, his voice shaking, "It's gone, kupo. All of it."

Isaac watched Montblanc for a few moments, not knowing what to say. The formerly great mage seemed diminished. Even the way he held his rod was different; none of the flourish or command he had used before. Now it was just a piece of wood clamped in his paws.

After a time, Isaac whispered, "What can I do, kupo?"

At this, Montblanc glanced up sharply and said, without hesitation this time, "Teach me how to fight, kupo."

"Kupopo?"

"I want you to teach me how to fight with a blade."

Isaac stared at him a few moments more, not knowing what to say. Then, he closed his eyes, and sighed. "I'm assuming you only came to me because Marche and Caitlin already refused?"

Montblanc flinched a bit, then said, "Neither of them said I couldn't learn how to fight. They just told me they wouldn't teach me."

"Right, kupo," Isaac said. He thought for a moment, then simply shook his head. "I won't do that, kupo."

"I'm strong enough, kupo," Montblanc said, standing up straighter and glaring at the other moogle. "I feel stronger right now than I have in… well, I don't even know how long. But I know that I'm strong enough to hold a weapon."

"I don't doubt it, kupo," Isaac told him, shaking his head again. "You're probably in better health than I am, right now. That's not why I'm refusing."

"Then why?"

Isaac looked up at Montblanc for a bit, then sighed, and asked, "How many people have you killed in your lifetime, kupo?"

"Sorry?"

"Three years ago, you told me that you'd only ever killed one man," Isaac replied, carefully taking a seat. "Has that number grown since then?"

Montblanc eyed him curiously, then replied. "No. Still just the one."

"Good," Isaac muttered, and closed his eyes. He paused for a few seconds to gather his thoughts, then began speaking. "I'm certain you've noticed the fact that fewer and fewer of our missions lately have been supervised by a judge, kupo. The odds of death are getting higher and higher. I know you're not afraid of dying," he said quickly, seeing the look on Montblanc's face, "but it's more than that."

He was quiet for a while after that, keeping his eyes shut. Montblanc, watching him, sat down beside him slowly. After a moment, he asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Again, there was silence for a few good minutes. Then, Isaac opened his eyes, and glanced down at the field. "In a week, I'm going to be leading those five into a jagd, and through the middle of enemy territory. I'm less scared of watching them die than I am of watching one of them kill somebody. By the end of this mission, any innocence that they've got right now will be gone, kupo. I can't help that, though; it's what has to be done in order to protect everybody else."

"You can't protect everybody, Isaac," Montblanc said softly, relaxing as he looked at the other moogle.

"I know," Isaac nodded, exhaling sharply through his nose. This time, he didn't give himself time to wait, and instead just went on without hesitation. "Besides, the five of them were destined to live violent lives long before I met them, kupo. All I can do is train them and try to keep them alive as long as possible. You, though, are a different matter, kupo."

"Saving me won't save the world," Montblanc said sharply. "I won't be any use to our cause if I can't even fight, kupo!"

"Maybe you weren't meant to fight?" Isaac suggested, then went on quickly. "I mean, after all of this fighting is done, somebody has to be left to help put things back together, kupo. Somebody has to pull all of the remaining sides to a single group, and not lead another war. Somebody has to tell our story, kupo."

Montblanc sat back after this, slouching a bit in his seat and not looking over at Isaac. The mogknight didn't push him; he simply sat back himself, watching as Amy and Cecilia traded blows. Both of them kept their weapons sheathed as they swung, in case one or the other slipped and missed a block.

Finally, the former mage glanced over at Isaac, and muttered, "I think I liked it better when I was the mature one, kupo."

Isaac laughed at that, and relaxed visibly. He let his head loll back, and he sighed. "You know, it's just July, you and I left, kupo. Makes you feel old, doesn't it, kupo?"

Montblanc started nodding, then stopped. He looked at Isaac out of the corner of his eye, then said, "Not really, kupo. You're the only active member left, now."

"Great," Isaac groaned. "Now I feel _really_ old. Thanks."

"No problem."

"So we're good, right, kupo?"

"Yeah," Montblanc nodded. "I understand. I might still hit up some of the bangaa here to see if they'll teach me, kupo."

Isaac cocked an eyebrow at him. "You're seriously thinking of training with the Red Dragons, kupo? Have you _seen_ their training?"

"Uh… no, kupo?" Montblanc said, looking a bit intimidated. "Why?"

"They do laps," Isaac said, his voice dry. "Around Helje. Carrying packs of rocks. For warm-up."

Montblanc stared at him for a good half a minute. Then, he slumped in his seat, and muttered, "Well there goes that plan, kupo. I think I like your picking up the pieces idea."

"Right." Isaac nodded, smirking, and stood up. He stretched a bit, then glanced over at him. "I have to get back to training them."

"Sounds good," the moogle replied. "I guess I'll stick around and watch for a while. Good luck with your mission."

"Thanks. We'll need it."

---

There was silence. Then again, there was always silence. So long as it was quiet, things were going right. Sound meant that they were moving; it meant that they might be planning something.

The viera sighed as she leaned back against the cold stonewall, right next to the heavy metal doors that led into the main holding cells. Before, things had been so much easier. Before the bloody rebellion had been backed into a corner. Now, though, everybody was terrified of an attack coming from the unified rebel forces, and even more so since the operation she'd heard of in the Koringwood.

Shortly after that time, the extra reinforcements had begun showing up. They weren't like the other soldiers employed by the palace. These ones had a dark look about them, and their equipment, though in poorer condition when compared to the guards, was clearly well-used and of good quality. And then of course there had been their leader. She'd shivered the first time she'd seen him, tall and straight backed. And his hand… the odd patch of black skin there. She didn't trust him, didn't trust him at all.

She stiffened, suddenly, and looked up. Her entire body tensed up as she glanced around the small chamber, and the single hallway that led into it. Using practise-honed control, she steadied her breathing, and focused her eyes for any small movements. Her long ears twitched slightly as the swivelled on her head, searching for noise.

She hadn't heard anything… no, definitely not. However, she had certainly felt… something. Maybe it was a sixth sense of some sort; however, she knew that she had felt a presence for a moment there. Figuring it was better to edge on the side of safety, she reached down slowly, and her hand touched against the hilt of her rapier.

Something tapped softly against her forehead. She moved quickly, beginning to tug out the rapier, but as a splotch of darkness seemed to just appear in front of her, she felt her eyelids flutter. All of her muscles relaxed, and she sank to the floor in a heap.

Vili waited a couple of moments, watching the peaceful rise and fall of the other viera's chest. Then, she glanced over to the wall, and gave a sharp nod.

A small vent, used for air circulation, was pushed slowly open in the wall, just above the floor. After a moment, a brown form slipped out of the hole, stepping almost noiselessly down onto the floor, then turning around to hold the vent open.

Isaac held his breath as the other five members of his group crawled out from beneath the space. The others, much like he and Vili, were dressed mainly in black, and all of them were carrying the bare minimum of equipment. Eileen and Adrian had both removed their heavy and cumbersome over robes, opting instead to go in wearing their normal clothing. Each wore a belt with several vials of ether attached to it, spaced far enough apart that they wouldn't clink.

Isaac eyed Adrian as the nu mou passed him, trying to read his movements. Over the course of their training, he had been the one that had most worried Isaac. The young alchemist had none of Eileen's natural head for combat casting; especially with his Alchemy. On more than one occasion during the training, he had simply frozen, unsure of what to do.

He turned to watch Cecilia to slip out next, her shield already on her arm and her blade sheathed on her back. In a small black sheath by her leg, the very tip of a tin whistle was poking out, just where she could reach it in a hurry. Beyond that, she was dressed normally, with the black clothing contrasting starkly with her white fur.

After that was Amy. She had opted to leave her blade behind for this mission, and instead carried a great broadsword on her back, the sheath cut a bit on the edge to allow her to actually draw the long weapon. Leather armour, dyed black by exposure to smoke, was the only protection she wore. Isaac had offered to let her wear something heavier, but the bangaa had refused. In a way, Isaac was glad; it would have been difficult to get her around silently while wearing anything metal. Still, he hoped that she would be alright with simply that.

Lastly came Owen, an arrow ready at his string. The only piece of adornment he wore was the golden pin of the Blue mage, clipped into the base of his shirt. His sabre was sheathed at his back, and a full quiver of arrows hung from a belt around his left leg. He had even fletched them with the black feathers of a crow, so that they wouldn't draw any attention in the darker hallways they would be creeping through. He was stepping carefully, with that same bestial grace that Isaac had identified in Ben long ago.

"How long will you ability last, Vili?" Isaac asked as he let the grate down, careful to keep it from screeching.

"Depends on whether or not somebody wakes her up," Vili replied, leaning down and arranging the guard's unconscious body. She moved her so that it looked as though she had simply lain down for a nap, then continued. "The poison I put in her could take up to half an hour to reach her heart while she's asleep, but if she wakes up it won't take nearly that long."

"Right," the moogle nodded, doing his best to hide his distaste for this method. However, it was necessary. Vili was the only member amongst their group who could easily knock the guard out without making a sound. Instead, he swallowed, then turned to the door. "Alright, Owen, you're leading from here on in. Marche said that he would wait an hour before he entered the jagd; right now, I'd give us at most twenty minutes before they get here. We have to be fast, kupo, and be deep in before they know that anything's happening. Let's go."

With that, the group pushed open the heavy doors, staring into the darkness. Then, Owen led them in, and Amy let the door shut behind them.


	103. Into the Dark

As soon as the door closed behind them, the darkness deepened down into a sheet of perfect black over all of their eyes. Quickly, they all moved so that they were holding each other's hands, and then they set out, Owen in the lead. The going was slow, and involved much tripping and cursing along the way. Gradually, their eyes grew used to the darkness, and they began to be able to see small shapes and shadows when they focused.

It seemed, from their best guesses, that they were heading down a long and straight hallway, with a stone floor beneath them that was worn smooth by use. They didn't speak as they went along; the oppressive darkness seemed to demand silence from them. The only noises to be heard came from their footsteps as they stumbled along, doing their best to avoid hurting themselves.

It was torture for all of them, to know that as they walked forward, the battle was approaching outside. In fact, it may have even begun by now. For all they knew, with their flawed sense of time, it could have already have been raging for some time now. There was really no way of telling, now.

Suddenly, the lead pair of footsteps died. Everybody stopped moving instinctively, and there was perfect silence for several moments. Then, Owen spoke, his voice soft and quiet.

"There should be a guard post up ahead. Maybe a hundred feet? They'll have dim lights there. Be careful, they'll still be enough to blind you if you look straight at them, after all this darkness. What're the orders?"

"How many guards would normally be there, kupo?"

"Maybe six? I can't really remember all that well. I was out of it towards the end of my escape, and it all starts turning into a blur."

"No problem," Isaac nodded, then took a deep breath. "Well, then, let's take them out as quickly and as quietly as we can. Remember; don't do anything stupid. Odds are good that by now, they know that there's something happening outside. Let's just hope they haven't thought to send extra guards for the prisoners, kupo."

They set out again, and soon they could see the soft light of the guard post up ahead. Wordlessly, Vili pulled herself free of the line, and pulled Isaac and Owen's hands together. Then, she was gone, blending perfectly with the darkness as the rest of the group kept moving.

Soon, the six of them reached a point in the passage where it opened up into a room. It was from this room that the dim light was issuing. As they approached, all of them tried their best to keep their eyes open despite the stinging caused by the brightness; they would need their eyesight soon enough.

When they reached it, Isaac went ahead from the others, crawling until he reached the very lip of the entrance. He peeked out into the wider room, and did a quick survey of it. It was about average sized; probably a bit larger than what would be expected for a simple guard post along the passageway. Several small spheres of magical light sat in sconces along the wall, giving off the pale glow which bathed the room. Across from the entrance he was looking out from, Isaac could see another door, this one sealed shut, and on either side of it a lazy-looking guard. Around the room there were a couple of other guards, as well, all wearing their weapons sheathed at their sides. There was a single human archer, leaning on his bow as a crutch, but beyond that there were no rangers in the group. In all, they numbered, eight.

Slowly, Isaac let his breath out in relief. Good. It seemed like their first battle would be an easy one. Knowing that Vili would already be in position, Isaac drew out the Materia Blade, its gunblade attachment loaded, and glanced back at the rest of the group. He gave a quick nod, and once they had all drawn their weapons, he turned his attention back to the room. He closed his eyes for a moment, calming his mind, then jumped, and raised his gunblade.

He managed to peg off two of the soldiers with his gunblade before any of the others could react. These two froze in their tracks, completely prone, as their companions drew their weapons and rushed at the moogle.

Isaac pulled his trigger once more, freezing a moogle in mid-stride, before he was forced to dodge back as a viera made a quick thrust at him. Even as Isaac was stepping backwards, though, he caught a flash of Amy stepping up past him. She swung her broadsword with both hands as the viera's thrust reached its greatest extent, her massive weapon ripping the rapier from the viera's grip. Barely even pausing, the bangaa stepped forward and quickly brought an elbow back and across, knocking the viera off of her feet.

This pair of moves threw the bangaa off-balance, though, as a human rushed in to take the viera's place. He lifted a sword, preparing to make a quick strike at Amy's exposed side. Seeing that the bangaa would never make the block in time, Isaac began stepping forward, but stopped when Cecilia rushed by him, ducking underneath the bangaa's extended arm and then springing up. She brought her shield forward in a quick punch, meeting and overpowering the human's sword.

The human, surprised by the sudden appearance of the moogle, took a stumbling step backwards. Seeing her chance, Cecilia swept her blade out beneath the barrier of her shield, aiming to slice at his legs. The human surprised both combatants, though, when he managed to regain his balance and jump over the swipe. He landed, and struck down as quickly as he could. As Cecilia blocked this strike, another human stepped up with a blade, attempting to cut the moogle down while she was distracted. He was intercepted by Amy, though, as the bangaa regained her balance and rejoined the fight.

Seeing that those two had it more or less under control, Isaac looked past the battle just in front of him to check on the archer. His eyes widened that he already had an arrow pulled back on a string, trained on Amy. The moogle almost raised his gunblade to fire, but stopped when he saw a telltale shimmering in the air just behind the archer.

A moment later, the archer's eyes widened, and the arrow fell from its string as his bow clattered to the ground. He stared down at the katana sticking out through his chest for a moment, almost looking surprised, before he collapsed in a heap. Vili, just behind him, quickly pulled her weapon out of his body, and gave it a bit of a shake to get some of the blood off. She gave Isaac a quick nod, then closed her eyes. After a moment, she disappeared again, leaving nothing but the body as proof of her presence.

Isaac glanced back at the pair just in front of him, and shook his head. There was no way he could fit through the bottleneck that Cecilia and Amy had formed; the two were using each other's size to their advantage, with Amy standing in the doorway and sweeping her massive weapon back and forth, while Cecilia kept dodging forward to block errant attacks and swipe at opponents' legs. That said, they were still outnumbered, and both of them were having trouble dealing with their few remaining enemies.

Shrugging, Isaac glanced back over his shoulder at Eileen, Owen, and Adrian. "Do one of you want to help speed this up, kupo?

"A single spell should cover it," Eileen said, then cast a meaningful look at Adrian. "Give it a try."

The younger mage jumped a bit, then nodded hesitantly. He stepped forward a bit, and stared at the two fighters just in front of him for a moment. Neither had taken a hit yet, but still, both had taken a couple of steps back into the hallway.

Adrian took a couple of deep breaths as he watched, and raised his hands. Then, he called out, "_Wind!_"

As he said it, an intense wind kicked up, racing to gather into a small whirlwind in the midst of Cecilia and Amy's enemies. Of the three remaining, the two closer were thrown hard against the walls, while the third was launched backwards into the room. He was airborne for a few short moments as he cut a path across the room, until he came to a sudden stop as a pair of black-clad arms wrapped around him from behind. In a swift movement, Vili pulled the moogle guard's paws up behind his back with one hand, before whipping her katana around until its edge lay flush against his neck.

And just like that, it was over. Amy and Cecilia stepped back, both of them panting heavily, while Isaac and Owen each checked the pulses of the two guards that had been knocked out by Adrian's attack.

"Alright, then," Isaac muttered, standing up. "That was good, everybody. Just a suggestion, Adrian; the spell for poison requires less energy, right, kupo?"

"Uh, yeah," Adrian nodded, ducking his head a bit. "Sorry, I know I should be saving energy. I just didn't put as much thought into it as I should've. It would have been smarter to just—"

"It's alright," Isaac said, holding up a paw to stop the nu mou. "Just so long as you're thinking about that stuff. That one's still alive, right, Owen?"

"Yes, sir," Owen nodded quickly, nudging the collapsed bangaa with his toe. "Just had a bit of a tap on the head."

"Alright, good," Isaac said, and then he began leading the way into the main room. "Nice job catching that one, Vili. So, Cecilia, Owen, would you mind tying up these two and the other survivors, and then—"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Vili said, her voice oddly casual despite her position holding the guard. "I dealt with the other ones."

Isaac glanced up at her in surprise. "You had enough time to tie the others up, kupo?"

Vili gave him a confused look. "No… what're you talking about?"

The moogle looked at her in equal confusion for a few moments, before a spike of cold went down his spine. His eyes widened as he demanded, "By 'dealt with them', do you mean that you killed them, kupo?"

"Sure," Vili said, shrugging. "We couldn't have them waking up and sounding the alarm, could we?"

"They were unarmed and helpless, kupo!" Isaac said sharply. "What do you think gives you the right to just kill them?"

"They're enemies of my clan. If they survived, I would just end up fighting them again some time."

Isaac glared at her for a few moments. Then, he barked out, "Tie up those two back there, and this survivor as well. From now on, we only kill in a life or death situation, kupo, or when otherwise forced to in combat. If I find that _any_ of you kill another enemy unit in cold blood, I'll use all of my power in this rebellion to have you removed permanently from combat. Is that understood?"

Everybody was silent for a few seconds after this statement. Then, Vili said, taken aback, "Why? I mean, they're our enemies. It's not like they would do any different."

"If we're all doing the same thing, kupo, then what makes us different from our enemies?" Isaac waited a few moments, to see if she would reply. When she didn't, he went on. "We're here to try and prevent needless deaths of non-combatants. If the only way you can think of doing that is to kill, then you weren't meant to be on this mission."

Again, there was a tense silence as Isaac and Vili stared each other down. Finally, the viera glanced away, but none of them missed her grip tightening on her katana. The moogle she held was shaking slightly, obviously understanding that this conversation would affect the length of his lifespan.

Isaac turned back to the others, then, as though nothing had happened, and asked, "How are things going with tying up those two, kupo?"

With a jump, everybody started moving, dragging the unconscious bodies of the two guards down the passage until they reached the main room. Isaac nodded to them, then turned to Vili again. "Pass him over, kupo."

Vili nodded, holding herself back from saying anything, and pulled her katana away from the moogle's throat. Slowly, she began pushing him forward, keeping a firm grip on his paws.

Just as he was about halfway between the two of them, the moogle suddenly threw his head back, and shrieked out, "Now, kupo!" Then, he glared down at his feet, and roared, "_Feuerag—_"

"_Wasser_!" Eileen yelped, and before the moogle could finish his spell, a sphere of water blasted out from her hands and tore the moogle from Vili's grip. Even as he slammed into the wall, though, guards began pouring in from the darkness of the opposite passageway, their weapons ready.

Isaac rushed forward, past the extremely surprised Vili, and met with the first guard: a bangaa dragoon holding a sword. The dragoon swiped at Isaac, but the moogle ducked it easily, not halting his pace. As he closed, he lowered his shoulder, and rammed right into the bangaa. The lizard, being completely unprepared for the moogle's strength, was pushed back several steps, and he slammed hard into the guard behind him.

As soon as Isaac felt the bangaa beginning to set his feet and slow their movement, the moogle turned his gunblade slightly in his grasp, and pulled the trigger. His stopshot slammed into the bangaa at point blank range, and he froze in place, blocking up the doorway.

"Form up!" Isaac yelled, beginning to turn back to his group. He was about to go on, but he stopped abruptly once he'd come fully around.

Two doors, concealed by the dim light in the room, had opened up in the walls on either side of the room. Now, soldiers were pouring into the room, weapons already drawn. A quick look at them showed that they were dressed differently from the guards before; instead of heavy and well-polished armour, they were covered up in dark cloaks and dull clothing, all of it clearly designed to help them blend into the shadows. Their weapons were rag-tag and well-used, but despite their old quality, these soldiers clearly knew how to use them. In the half of a second that Isaac took to observe all this, something clicked in his brain.

These were not prison guards.

"They're Blackhand's soldiers!" Isaac said, turning back to the frozen guard behind him. "Cecilia, Amy, each of you take a door and hold them back. Owen, Vili, get your bows out and start shooting, kupo. Eileen, Adrian, start throwing out your big stuff, _now_! I'll handle anybody that slips through."

Even as he was saying this, he was slipping the tip of his gunblade just around the guard's form, and concentrating hard. He pulled the trigger, and a charmshot slapped into the next guard in line. The guard blinked for a moment, then turned on his companions, going straight to work.

Not pausing, Isaac spun, extending his blade as he did to smack its flat side against the head of the unmoving soldier before him. Figuring that that would drop him once he began moving again, the moogle finished his spin so that he was facing the rest of his group.

The six other members of his group were already well into it. On one side, Cecilia was using her shield both to block attacks and make short punches forward. She kept her blade poking out just above the top of the shield, using it to deflect attacks coming from up high and to make small thrusts at her enemies' midsections. Added to her powerful defence, there was a steady stream of arrows passing by over her head, supplied by Owen. The human spent barely any time aiming between his rapid and accurate shots. They all either slammed into their targets, or threw the enemies slightly off-kilter, making them all the better prey for Cecilia's shield bashes and small thrusts.

On the other side of the room, Amy was having a slightly tougher time with things. Her heavily offensive style relied heavily on her brute strength being able to force any opponents back. However, against Korin Blackhand's agile and well-trained soldiers, this strategy proved nearly useless. Her foes dodged easily around her strikes, and came in fast slashes and thrusts that she had to work hard to avoid.

Fortunately for the bangaa, Vili had more skill in handling such skilled opponents. The viera sent a steady stream of arrows flying past, taking down soldier after soldier. After a moment of watching, Isaac understood the basics of their strategy; Amy was acting as a roadblock, preventing any of the guards from reaching, while the viera worked to thin down their numbers.

Standing back from these frays were Eileen and Adrian, each one watching one of the doors. Occasionally, when it looked like things were getting out of hand, they would send a spell over to help knock back a few more of their opponents.

Despite their clear proficiency, however, the sheer press of numbers was clearly beginning to overwhelm the small group. On top of this, many of the manoeuvres and combat styles they were using were taking a tremendous draw on their energy; particularly Cecilia and Amy's.

Isaac raised his gunblade, and fired off the last couple of shots in his clip as charmshots to try and help the pair of them as much as he could. Once he was finished, he began turning back to check on how his makeshift barricade had held up. As he was doing so, he caught something out of the corner of his eye, and on instinct, he threw himself to the ground.

He landed in a tight roll, and the sword that had been coming at him swished through empty air. Knowing that his opponent would not be caught off-guard for long, Isaac came back up to his feet in a crouch, and spun, twirling his blade around so that the blunt edge was leading.

There was a sickening crunch as it slammed into the human's leg, and a moment later this sound was accompanied by a cry of pain. The soldier's leg gave out under him, and he crumbled to the ground in a writhing heap.

Isaac didn't have the time to consider the pained man, though, as a moogle wielding a long knife closed with him. Isaac stepped in towards the other moogle, twirling his gunblade in his paw. The other moogle, knowing that he was at an advantage with his smaller weapon in such close quarters, lunged forward with his weapon, hoping to score a quick kill.

Isaac's paw clamped down on the hilt of his weapon, holding it upside down, now, and brought it up so that the blade of the knife bounced off of the Materia Blade's pommel. He continued punching forward, and slammed the pommel into the moogle's temple. The strike threw the other moogle back, his unconscious body not even trying to brace for the fall.

Isaac pushed forward more, knocking down another guard with ease before he managed to reach the doorway and properly block it again. He shifted his fighting to a more defensive style, trying to conserve more energy with his swings. He strained his ears to hear for any developments in the battle behind him, and could only assume that it was going well.

However, it couldn't last. Isaac could feel his limbs already beginning to grow heavy; his recent lack of sleep was clearly having an effect on him. The rest of the team would soon grow tired as well, and then it would only be a matter of time before one of them slipped up. He had to come up with a plan; some way to either stop the flow of enemies or get away. If he could just—

"Isaac!" Eileen yelled, and the moogle, knowing it was always a good idea to listen to that voice, spun, sweeping the Materia Blade out in front of him. He came around, just in time to see a viera dressed in the black garb of an assassin hopping back and out of the way of the attack. At first, Isaac thought she bore no weapon, but then he noticed the black, shadowy knife she held clamped in her hand, and he felt a jolt go through his veins. She had almost just killed him.

Isaac moved to take another swipe at her, but suddenly somebody grabbed him from behind, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other across both his armpits. Adrenaline flowed through Isaac's veins, and he cried out, thrashing in the grip. However, his captor held him tight, and there was no way that Isaac could angle his blade around to swipe at his assailant.

As Isaac flailed desperately, the viera before him wasn't just sitting back and watching. Seeing her chance, she took a quick step forward, still holding the knife of darkness in her hand, and thrust forward low at the moogle, aiming for his exposed stomach.

Just as she was about to connect, though, something swung in and smashed into the side of her head. There was a horrifying crunch, and the viera's head turned further than was natural. The knife disappeared from her hand as her body flopped to the ground, the caved-in side of her head ending on top.

Eileen stepped quickly over the body, her mace dripping with blood, and raised a hand. Seeing the mage approaching, the human holding Isaac twisted his wrist a bit, and a knife fell from his sleeve into his hand. He laid the edge against Isaac's throat, and hissed out, "Say a word, and I bleed hi—"

"_Sie Sterben_."

Eileen's fingers twitched slightly, and suddenly, the heat of the human's arms faded around Isaac, until they grew cool. Wordlessly, the human's body fell away from him, hitting the ground with a soft thump.

"More behind you!" Eileen said quickly, and turned away to help the others as Isaac swallowed his revulsion and faced the forces again. He jumped forward, crossing blades with a bangaa, and had a quick exchange with him before managing to slash the lizard's hamstring.

As he moved on to the next opponent, Isaac tried to retrace how that viera got behind him. There had been a short window of time between the soldier in front of the door unfreezing and him noticing during which she might have gotten by, invisible, but it seemed unlikely. She would have had to have been extremely good to get by that close without him feeling or hearing her. Her display, though, hadn't shown anywhere near that level of skill. She could have simply tapped her knife into his paw while he was slashing at her, and that would have been enough. She wasn't good enough to get by him.

The only other possibility, then, was…

"They were waiting for us, kupo," he growled, punctuating the remark by slamming his shoulder into the back of a moogle he had knocked far off balance, sending him tumbling into the next guard in line behind him.

Taking the opportunity, Isaac tucked his gunblade under his arm, and grabbed a clip from his ammo pouch. He shoved it in quickly, then raised the weapon and sent off several charmshots. After pausing for an instant to make sure he'd created enough chaos to distract his enemies for a while, he turned and faced his group again.

"Mage!" Owen's voice yelped suddenly, drawing Isaac's attention over to that side of the room. Even as his head was turning, flames jumped out from that doorway at Cecilia.

The moogle raised her shield quickly, and the flames slammed into it. Their force pushed her back several steps before she managed to dig her feet in, and then swipe around her shield with her blade, sending a blast of silver light out of its edge.

The mog lance parted the fire, cutting a clear path to the nu mou that was casting the spell. As it closed, however, the mage raised his rod in a quick movement, deflecting the attack into a shower of silvery sparks. Even as these were falling, he thrust a hand forward, pointing two fingers. He gripped the rod tighter, and yelled, "_Blitzra_!"

Two jagged bolts of lightning burst from his hand, launching forward and connecting directly with the mog knight. Cecilia cried out, and then was thrown back by the force of the spell, leaving a trail of the reek of burnt fur.

The mage moved to take a step forward, about to cast another spell to finish the moogle out, but suddenly Owen stepped up in front of him, reaching up to whip out his curved sabre. The mage was startled, but kept enough head about him to try and strike forward with his rod at the hunter.

Owen's weapon moved quickly, tapping off of the rod just enough to send it harmlessly wide, before using that momentum to jump forward and slash through the nu mou's chest in a short, but deep slash. Owen yanked his weapon back quickly, and assumed a ready position for the next opponent, standing so that he was facing the doorway side-on his sabre extended forward.

Seeing that the human had the door covered, for the moment at least, Isaac rushed over to Cecilia's smouldering form. Adrian was already bent over her, tugging her shield out of her spasming and clamping paw. She was already sitting up, but occasional twitches showed just how effective that spell had been.

"How are you, kupo?" Isaac demanded, kneeling down next to Adrian. Before she could answer, he had already extended a paw, and moonlight glowed from it, helping to dull the burns somewhat.

"Fine," she gasped, shaking her head a bit as another spasm wracked her form. She shuddered once more, then took a deep breath. "I should be good, now, kupo."

"Good, kupo. Do you think you could manage a song right now?"

Cecilia glanced up at him, looking confused for a moment. Then, her eyes widened, and she nodded. "I'm sure I could pull something off."

"Do it. I'll help Owen over there. Adrian, keep covering us."

"Got it," the nu mou nodded, standing up quickly. Isaac noted that he was shaking quite violently, but didn't pause to think too much about it. It was his first real battle; what more could be expected?

Isaac turned back to Owen, and saw that the hunter had already been pushed partially back through the door. He fought with a clear level of grace, but he simply didn't have the raw power to hold such a force back. Nodding to himself, Isaac raised his gunblade, and began firing.

As the soldiers started falling back, a clear note rang out through the room. For a moment, everybody stopped, glancing around in surprise. Then, quite suddenly the clump of guards at the door that Amy and Vili were covering collapsed to the ground. The two of them turned, trying to see the source of this help, and found Cecilia standing in the centre of the room, her flute clamped in her still-smouldering paws.

She played a few more notes, and suddenly the guards at Isaac and Owen's door also collapsed into deep slumber. As soon as they began falling, Isaac started heading towards the final door, the one they had originally been intending to go through, and gestured for everybody to follow him.

He met with the guards at that door, who had just managed to get their charmed companions back under control. His blade flashed out, blocking attacks and slapping exposed body parts. Standing just behind him, Amy slashed over his head, and between the two of them, the force before them began falling back. On top of that, occasionally, as they were advancing, a clump of the guards would simply stagger, then collapse to the ground in slumber. All the while, Cecilia continued her song, putting them to sleep as quickly as she could.

After a few minutes of this strategy, they finally managed to batter down all of the guards blocking their way. Cecilia pulled the flute from her lips to take a deep breath, but beyond that, they didn't pause to celebrate their victory. Isaac set out at a heavy pace, moving forward quickly through the darkness with Eileen taking up the rear.

No words were exchanged for several minutes, as all of them rushed forward through the darkness. As they moved further from the light behind them, Eileen summoned a small globe of gold-laced orange light, and they let that guide them for good while longer.

Finally, after a while, Isaac glanced over his shoulder, and said, "Owen? How long 'till we reach a door we can close and bar, kupo?"

"Should only be a few more hundred metres!" Owen said, nodding to him. "There's a pair of doors that can be barred in either direction."

"If we go in there, they'll be able to lock us in too, Isaac," Eileen reminded him. She took a quick glance behind her, before adding, "Something tells me that they're willing to lock us up in there and starve us out."

"Better than letting them crush us, kupo," Isaac replied. "That attack was too coordinated for it not to have been planned; they're expecting us. We have to move fast and hope that they can't keep up. Eileen, kill the light in case somebody's up ahead. We can't give up the element of surprise."

At his words, the orange light died, and they were left running along in the darkness. Isaac trained his ears to listen for when the passage would open up around them in the next room. However, it turned out that he didn't really have to. As they moved further, he caught sight of several small, pale yellow lights a short way in front of them. Isaac assumed that they must have been candles, used to add a bit of light to the room and began running a bit faster in the hopes of reaching the room sooner.

Suddenly, Isaac felt the hallway opening up around him, and he stopped himself abruptly. He turned around, making out a couple of small details in the pale yellow glow, and said, "Eileen, bar the door once you're through!"

In a few moments, the rest of the party was through, and the dark shape that was Eileen turned and slammed the door shut, sliding a heavy bolt into place to lock it.

Everybody stood there for a few moments, panting. They'd run quite hard for a good while to get there in such good time, and so Isaac figured that it was fair to let them all have a short break. He had just bent over to place his paw on his own knee to lean on a bit, when Amy's voice spoke over the panting of their breath.

"Why are the candlesss moving?"

Everybody tensed as she said it, and turned to stare at the yellow lights. Indeed, they were moving; very slowly, they were approaching, making soft rustling noises as they did so.

"Light, kupo."

Instantly, Eileen, Adrian, and Owen all created small orbs of light in the air, coloured orange, gold, and blue respectively. The contrasting colours painted the hulking, glimmering forms of the creatures before them, formed up in a semi-circle and quickly closing in on the small group.

"Rockbeasts!" Owen yelped, even as everybody else's weapons jumped to their hands, preparing to meet the lumbering wall.

---

A/N: Okay, it's been a while. Way too long. However, I've gotten a lot done since my last chapter came out:

Read R. A. Salvatore's _The Pirate King_, the entire series of _Y: The Last Man_ and Robertson Davies' _What's Bred in the Bone_; worked garbage pick up at a music festival, and got over thirty dollars worth of free food in the process; learnt how to build a birch-bark canoe; had three dance-offs; and realized that psions are by far the best class in D&D 3.5.

Pretty good for my first month off, aye?


	104. Songs in the Dark

As soon as they saw the creatures before them, the group started moving. Isaac, Amy, and Cecilia all jumped forward, slashing in the hopes of keeping the monsters back. The creatures, however, were much better trained than that. Each one simply lowered its head a bit, and accepted the strike on their rocky skin.

The attacks left nothing but small scratches and dents, forcing all three of them to take steps back as the bladebiters moved forward. Growling a bit in annoyance, Isaac fired off a stopshot at one of the creatures. The bullet bounced off of the creature's skin, and to the moogle's relief, it halted in its movement. However, the hulking form of the beast made it impossible for any of them to get around it to make an attempt to escape.

"Eileen, Adrian?" Isaac demanded, glancing over his shoulder a bit. "Just about anything would be appreciated right now, kupo."

At once, Adrian threw a blast of water at one of the creatures. However, it simply splashed off of its thick shell, having no effect whatsoever. The nu mou stumbled back, startled by the complete lack of effect. He glanced over to Eileen, and asked, "Could we poison them?"

"We could," Eileen said, her eyes half-lidded in thought. "But it would take a few minutes before it actually took them down. I don't think we've got that kind of time."

"Any other plans, kupo?" Isaac said sharply, drawing their attention. Amy and the two moogles had advanced again, trying to slow down the great beasts. They weren't moving too quickly as it was, but their continuing advance was already heavily limiting the group's movement. Their yellow eyes were fixed hungrily on the group, unblinking as they slowly cornered them.

Suddenly, an arrow thundered in past the three melee fighters, slamming into the side of one of the bladebiters. Rather than bounce off of the rocky skin, as everybody expected, the arrow penetrated through the tough hide, and as it lodged in, a shaft of yellow light emitted from the hole. There was a small bang, and suddenly a section of the bladebiter's armour blew off. The creature roared in pain, staggering back a couple of steps with the force of the strike. Even as the creature was balancing precariously on two legs, Owen released another arrow, sending it to stick in the hole in the armour. This arrow was quickly followed by two others, each one sticking into the beast's side within an inch of where the original arrow had landed. Even as the last arrow was thudding into the beast, its legs were collapsing beneath it, the yellow light of its eyes extinguishing.

Before anybody could ask, Owen stepped forward, setting another arrow to his string. "Aim for the eyes and their underbellies. I'll blow as many holes in their armour as possible for you guys; just keep them back so I can get my shots off."

Without another word, the rest of the group began moving. Isaac began firing off stopshots, hoping he could hold them back while Owen blew a few more holes in their armour. Cecilia and Amy each went toe-to-toe with a bladebiter, doing more pushing than actual fighting. Meanwhile, Vili stood back from the others, sending arrows out to the bladebiters on the edges of the semi-circle closing on them. She aimed her shots for the creatures' eyes, and though most of her shots missed their small marks, she managed to land close enough to frighten the creatures, and make them slow their steps.

As Owen set to work on blowing through the armour of another bladebiter, Eileen pointed towards one of the creatures at the back. She took a deep breath, then flexed her fingers, not even bothering with the incantation.

At once, the ground beneath one of the bladebiters erupted with flames. The force of the blow threw the great creature up into the air, and launched it back several feet. The flames left great scorch marks over the creature's stomach, but even more effectively, the creature landed from the spell flat on its back.

Barely even hesitating after delivering that spell, Eileen pointed to another bladebiter, setting off an explosion underneath it. She moved quickly, setting off blast after blast beneath the surprised creatures' feet.

Next to her, Adrian was standing, staring at the battle going on about him. The great holes that Owen was opening, the arrows and bullets flying and gradually slowing the moving wall before them, and most of all Eileen sending the creatures flying left and right. His hands were shaking as he raised them, and tried to focus on one bladebiter hanging in the back of the group. He took a deep breath, then pointed, and said, "_Aufflackern_!"

He waited, his hand still pointing, for the rush of flames. However, after a few moments during which nothing happened, the young mage came out of his casting stance, and panted a bit. Then, quickly, he pointed again, and made another attempt with the spell.

When nothing happened, he staggered back a bit, staring dully as the battle continued about him. Why wasn't it working? It should have been working… why…

"Why aren't you casting anything?" Eileen's voice asked, shocking the younger spellcaster from his doubts. She had paused from her own spells to drink down an ether, and now stood sizing him up.

"I don't know! I just… it won't…"

"A flare should be able to take one down easily," she said, nodding towards the bladebiters. "Try one."

"I was trying, though! It won't work!"

She was about to reply, but she stopped, thinking for a moment. "Try casting a giga flare."

"What?"

As Adrian said this, there came a terrible screeching noise from off to their left. The bladebiter that Amy had been fighting had just lunged forward, clamping its large and powerful jaws around her broadsword. The bangaa struggled, setting her feet into the ground and tugging hard. The bladebiter retaliated in kind; leaning its bulky body back to exert its own strength on the weapon.

As the pair struggled, their came a horrifying crunching noise, along with some high-pitched metallic screeching. Then, suddenly, Amy was stumbling back, the hilt and the first half-foot of the blade of her broadsword clamped in her hands. The bladebiter's four-legged stance kept it from staggering back at all as it brought its huge, beak-like jaws down on the blade in its mouth again and again. Soon, there was nothing but a couple pieces of scrap metal and some trails of blood to show that the weapon had existed at all.

Amy finally managed to right herself, and as she did so, her eyes narrowed as she glared at the bladebiter.

"Lord Maxsswell gave me that weapon," she hissed at the creature.

The bladebiter, oblivious to the words, spat out the wads of metal, and advanced on its apparently unarmed opponent.

Amy didn't move to get out of the way; instead, she lunged forward, stabbing forward with the broken end of the broadsword.

There was a flash of red light as the weapon reached out at the bladebiter. Then, quite suddenly, flames burst from the broken end, jumping forward and crackling wildly for an instant, before bunching down into the shape of a blade. The bladebiter, too surprised by the bangaa's sudden attack, had no time to pull back out of the way.

Amy drove the weapon forward, and the flames sliced cleanly through the creature's armour beneath its chin. It bit through, and rammed up until its tip broke through the top of the creature's head.

The bangaa turned, whipping the weapon out and letting the bladebiter collapse to the ground. She didn't pay it any attention, though; instead, she turned to the next bladebiter in line, twirling the blade about and slicing deep into its armour.

The slow monsters were sitting ducks to her, then, as she moved from creature to creature, letting her magically enhanced weapon tear through their ranks. They were nowhere near fast enough to dodge her wide, sweeping attacks. Added to that, with the loss of the weight of her weapon, Amy was moving far faster, and her steps were surer. She sliced, stabbed, and dodged with the grace of a fencer of half her weight.

"Giga flare?" Adrian demanded, oblivious to the tides turning in the bangaa's battle. "But… but that's one of the strongest sage spells!"

"How long have you been studying the flare spell?"

"Uh… a couple of months?"

"Exactly. You should have mastered it by now. However, your skills in alchemy have always been a bit lacking."

"I've told you, I try!" the younger mage protested, though he did take a slight step back at the honest assessment. "It just doesn't come easily to me."

"But sage magic always has," Eileen countered, nodding at the mace in his hands. Its head curved out into a flower of many petals, all converging around the central steel orb. "You've been carrying a lotus mace with you for months. The only reason that you wouldn't be able to cast flare is if you were too busy learning another spell."

"How could I be learning a spell and not know it?" the nu mou demanded, throwing his arms out wide. "I just need more time to—"

"When you applied to the Alchemists' Guild, the reports I received about you showed that your white magic was incredible, but your black was lagging behind most moogles and humans of your training." She eyed the mace suggestively. "I never learned of your beastmaster abilities, but I wouldn't be wrong in assuming that they were quite good as well, would I?"

"M-my sage spells can't be that strong…" he stuttered, backing up a bit at the older mage's reasoning.

While the pair of spellcasters was speaking, the battle raged on around them. As the bladebiters began realising that they stood no chance against Amy's magically-generated blade, they started pulling away from her, and turning instead to converge on Cecilia a few feet away. The moogle swiped her blade across one bladebiter's face, and the shock running up her wrist nearly removed the weapon from her paw.

She tightened her grip on the hilt, and hopped back as the creature bit at her. As her feet touched the ground, she punched forward with her shield, slamming it into the side of its face.

Her attack bounced off, and she was forced to take an unsteady step back as her arm went numb from the vibrations. The bladebiter, for its part, took a small step back, a slightly dazed look coming to its yellow eyes.

Hoping to finally score a hit, the moogle lunged forward, her blade aiming at one of the bladebiter's eyes. As she attacked, though, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye, and just managed to pull herself back out of her strike as a second bladebiter bit at her.

As Cecilia stumbled back from this failed attack, Eileen was shaking her head at Adrian. "I've told you, Adrian. You're a future ultimate. It's true that most spellcasters of your age would barely be able to cast basic sage magic, but the normal rules don't apply to you."

"Well why not?" he demanded, surprising Eileen by suddenly managing to gather his courage and reply evenly to her. "I'm weak! I'm the weak one, alright? I never managed to get Black magic because it was too hard, and so I couldn't do anything when the palace came! I should have been doing everything I could to slow them down, like you were! That's the reason that I applied to the Alchemists' Guild in the first place; to learn from you, so I could get stronger. But I can't; I can barely cast a fire spell. How am I supposed to use Ultima if I can't even cast a half-decent Black spell?"

"Ultimates _are_ rule breakers," Eileen insisted, holding her arms out wide. "Five years ago, any Alchemist would say that a female spellcaster was good for nothing but healing. Now I'm leading them. It took Isaac years before he could use the most basic mog knight techniques; now he's the most feared pirate hunter in the skies. We don't take normal paths to get to where we need to go. I _know_ you're strong enough for all of this; you just need to accept that fact and start doing your job."

Adrian looked as though he were about to reply, but both nu mou were distracted by a cry just off to their side. They turned, and saw that Cecilia had been pushed back against a wall by a large group of bladebiters, which had now surrounded her in a tight semi-circle. One lunged at her, and she stabbed forward, hoping to score a blow in the soft insides of its mouth.

As her blade passed between its lips, though, the creature's jaws crunched down lightning quick. With a jarring screech, the weapon shattered, metal shards slicing the bladebiter's mouth.

Cecilia didn't hesitate as she released the broken blade's hilt. Before it had even hit the ground, she had grabbed her flute in her free paw and raised it to her lips. She took a deep breath, and began playing.

A high, clear note rang out above the battle, seeming to bring calm to everything for an instant. Cecilia closed her eyes, relaxing, and then her fingers began moving to the next note. However, when the sound came out, it wasn't disciplined or melodic at all. It was an undignified shriek, powered by the sharp exhale of breath expelled from Cecilia's lips as one of the bladebiters surrounding her lunged forward, slamming the pommel of the sword stuck in its forehead into her stomach.

The force of the strike threw the moogle back hard, so that her wings slammed against the wall with an audible slap. The flute fell from her fingers as she bent over double, grasping her bruised stomach in pain. Seeing their prey distracted, the bladebiters moved in for the kill.

Eileen moved quickly, pointing and crying out, "_Aufflackern!_" The blast erupted beneath a bladebiter that was about to close its jaws on the moogle's arm, sending it flying away. Eileen pointed to cast again, and gritted her teeth. She could see bullets slamming into the rear ranks of the creatures, and as they froze, she knew that Isaac was doing his best to slow them down. Still, though, there was no way that they would manage to get through to the moogle. Amy, Owen, and Vili were too busy fending off the rest of the group, and if any of them took the time to go and help out Cecilia, then their defences on that side would surely crumble. As Eileen stared on in horror, the creatures crowded in around Cecilia, blocking her completely from view.

"_Mehr Aufflackern!_"

Suddenly, flames exploded upwards from the centre of the mass of bladebiters, far larger than the explosions that Eileen had been causing. Cleaved a massive hole through the ranks of the creatures, sending them flying left and right as though they were no more than leaves on the wind.

As the smoke cleared from the blast, Adrian dodged around Eileen, rushing forward to the hole he had punched in the group of bladebiters. Several of those closer to the fallen mog knight turned to face the nu mou as he approached, but Adrian simply pointed again and cried out, "_Mehr Aufflackern!_"

A second explosion tore through their ranks, clearing out a perfect path for the sage to rush forward, taking up a position just next to Cecilia's crumpled up form. The bladebiters, however, were hot on his heels, and as he wheeled around, he saw that they were already only a couple of feet away.

He raised his hands again, and made as though to cast his spell again, but stopped, knitting his forehead a bit in pain as he realised that he had exhausted much of his energy for the day. His hands began shaking as he realised that he didn't have another giga flare in him, and he certainly didn't have enough time to both chug down an ether and then cast it again. He took an unsteady step back against the wall, and almost tripped on something small and round lying on the floor. He caught himself, and glanced down, his eyes widening.

Quickly, he bent down, snatching Cecilia's flute off of the ground. He brought it up to his lips, and blew into it, his fingers already dancing along the keys.

A song, deep and slow, rang out through the low-ceilinged room. As the waves of sound emitted from the small instrument in Adrian's hands, all of the bladebiters that heard it grew still. Soon, the low thumping of their feet upon the ground disappeared altogether, and they all stood prone, their eyes focused intently on the nu mou with the flute.

The other six members of the group also stopped in their movement, surprised by the sudden halt in combat. Isaac remained tense for a few moments, his finger clamped tightly around the trigger of his gun should he need to fire. However, once he realised that none of the bladebiters were going anywhere, he pulled his finger away, and let the gunblade slip down into a comfortable position at his side. He glanced over at Eileen, and cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I thought he was an Alchemist, kupo?"

"Apparently not," Eileen shrugged, watching Adrian as he continued playing. Beside him, Cecilia was pushing herself up to her feet, still wheezing from the blow to her stomach. She looked around for her blade, and grimaced when she saw its shards scattered across the floor.

Soon, the members of the group had gathered in the middle of the room, while Adrian stood off to the side, still playing for the bladebiters. When all was said and done, their group had cut down twenty of the great beasts; however, another fifteen were currently under Adrian's thrall.

"This is something new," Owen was saying, shaking his head quickly. "I swear, I had no idea that there would be any kinds of creatures guarding the doors. I don't know how they would have even gotten them in here."

"They were expecting us, kupo," Isaac shrugged, trying not to act phased. "So, they set up a trap to slow us down as much as possible. On top of that, they managed to drain our two main magic users of much of their energy. We're all still alive, though, and that's what matters, kupo. How are you two doing for arrows?"

"I'm alright," Vili said, reaching over her shoulder and running her fingers through the feathered fletching. "I wouldn't want to go through another fight like that, though."

"I'm good, too. I've got just less than half left, and most of my magic's still intact."

"Vili, you give Owen all of your arrows, and switch to melee," Isaac said after a moment of thought. "We must be getting close now, right?"

"I think so," Owen replied, clearly thinking. "Soon we should reach a fork in the path; one side leads to the main cells, while the other goes to solitary confinement. We should probably head for the main ones first."

"Sounds good," Isaac nodded. He stopped to rub his eyes, then glanced over to Cecilia and Amy. He eyed their empty sheathes for a moment, mulling something over in his head. Then, carefully, he sheathed the Materia Blade, and reached over to the silver hilt of the Avuir Blue. He drew it, and then held it out to Cecilia. "Take this, kupo. Respect these blades." He handed the Avuir Red to Amy, but his paw remained in the air for a moment after she had taken the weapon. He hesitated a moment, then said, a slight grin on his face, "Don't break these ones, kupo."

With that, the moogle turned around to face Adrian, who was still playing his slow melody on the flute. "They'll obey you so long as you keep playing, kupo?"

Adrian gave a quick nod, not breaking the rhythm of his playing. There were a few beads of sweat dripping through his fur, but otherwise he seemed to be fine as his fingers continued walking along the keys.

"Alright, then. Our new battle plan; protect Adrian at all costs." Isaac glanced over to the group of bladebiters, and licked his lips a bit. "If we find that there are already soldiers waiting for us at the cells, kupo, we take them on, and Adrian can use the bladebiters to make a defensive line for the prisoners. Let's go, kupo."

The group moved on. This time, Eileen and Owen allowed their magic out freely to illuminate their way; the fifteen bladebiters that were travelling with them more or less stole any chance of approaching anybody by stealth. All the while, Adrian's deep song echoed off of the walls around them, filling the emptiness.

Soon, they approached the fork that Owen had mentioned; the hallway that they took ended abruptly, meeting a second hallway that went off to the right and left. At a quick gesture from Owen, they turned to the left, and kept on going.

No more than a minute later, they saw a light up ahead. As soon as it came into view, Isaac called for a halt. He glanced back at Owen, and gestured him forward.

"Would there normally be a light up there, kupo?"

"No. That should be just in front of the doors to the cells. It should be totally black in here."

"Great…" the moogle sighed, breaking it off as a yawn racked his body. He shook himself a bit, then glanced up. "Vili, Eileen, I want you two with me, kupo. If there are any guards there, I'll attack them head-on. Vili, you use my distraction to sneak around to the doors, and slip into the cells. Clear out any guards posted in there, and keep any of them from getting in. Use any means necessary, kupo." She cocked an eyebrow at him when he said this, and he gave a slight nod. He didn't have to explain; things were different now that the prisoners' lives were on the line. He went on, turning now to Eileen. "I want you to wait in the doorway. If they have any spellcasters in there, I need you to cover me from them."

"What about the resssst of ussss?" Amy asked. Her fingers were resting on the golden hilt of the Avuir Red, still sheathed at her belt. "Surely you didn't give ussss these weaponssss for appearanccce's sssake?"

"No. While the three of us are approaching, I want you four to make as much noise as possible, to mask our approach. Once we're fighting, you'll be guarding our backs. I don't want any more surprise attacks, kupo. Make sure that nobody gets through this hallway, going either way. Owen's in charge over here, kupo. Everybody got that?"

They all nodded as one, and without any further hesitation, Isaac, Vili, and Eileen turned away, heading down the hallway. The other four watched them leaving for a short time, and then Adrian directed his bladebiters to begin stomping their short legs. The other three did little, knowing that any noise they made would never come close to what the creatures were doing.

After a short, while, Amy glanced over at Owen, and asked, "Sssso… what iss the ssssolitary confinement for?"

"Mainly for the prisoners that are considered too dangerous to keep with the others," Owen said, shrugging. "They're kept in harsher conditions; normally their bonds are enchanted to limit any magic abilities, and they aren't allowed out of their cells at all. Sometimes they're shackled so that they can't even move their arms. I've heard that they even torture some of the prisoners kept there for any information that they can get about the rebellion."

Amy winced, shaking her head a bit at that. "What kind of prisonerssss, then?"

Owen thought for a moment, then said, slowly, "Any ringleaders or particularly powerful warriors, I guess. Once I heard a rumour that they keep all of the animists locked down in there, though."

"Kupopo?" Cecilia demanded, speaking up for the first time.

"I never learned if it was true," Owen said quickly, then, after a moment of thought, tilted his head. "Though it makes sense, doesn't it? All animists need to cast their magic is sound. It would be too dangerous to hold somebody like that in a normal cell."

Any further discussion was cut off as the sound of battle could be heard coming from down the hallway. Surprised yelling, gunshots, and occasional explosions echoed back towards the four members of the group and their monster companions. Adrian got his beasts to stop their stomping, and they all turned to focus on the sounds, trying to discern how the battle was going.

Cecilia waited until all of the others were fully focused on the distant battle before she slipped away. She moved slowly at first in order to keep quiet. As soon as she had travelled beyond the radius of Owen and Adrian's magelights, though, she picked up the pace. She reached down to her side, and drew out the Avuir Blue noiselessly. She stumbled for a moment in surprise as she felt lightness filling her body. However, a moment later, she was fine again, and moving as fast as she could through the dark back towards the solitary confinement cells.


	105. Reunion in the Dark

Isaac jumped over a blade, and brought his own weapon down in an overhead slash, the blunt end leading. The guard he was battling, a tall human, crumpled beneath the blow, and didn't get back up.

He landed easily, and made a quick pivot on one foot, doing a survey of the room. He just caught sight of Eileen as she let out a flash of orange light. She lowered her hands as a toad hopped out of the puff of smoke that had covered her opponent. She eyed the small amphibian, as though she was considering whether or not to run over and crush it. Then, she shrugged, and turned to face Isaac.

"That it?"

"I think so, kupo," Isaac replied, eying the room for any stragglers. "Shall we check on Vili?"

Eileen nodded, and the two walked over to the large double doors made of metal. One of these doors was slightly ajar, and Isaac slipped his fingers under the edge. He began pulling, but stopped as Vili's voice came from the other side.

"Wait."

The moogle obeyed, and pulled back a bit. He and Eileen waited a moment, and then the door creaked open. A moment later, Vili emerged, her arm wrapped around a bangaa's neck, her katana pressed against his throat.

"Don't open the door all the way," she explained, shrugging at their looks. "Those prisoners have been in complete darkness for a few weeks; light won't go well."

"Is that your only catch, kupo?" Isaac asked, nodding at the bangaa.

"Two more; they weren't as lucky. I think the prisoners are a bit terrified," Vili glanced at the two of them. "What's the plan?"

Isaac looked over his shoulder, and called over to the entrance to the room, "Come on in, kupo!" He turned back to Vili. "Now we dig in, and send a few members of our group down to solitary confinement."

As Isaac finished speaking, the rest of their group stepped through the entrance, pausing as they emerged to stare at Isaac and Eileen's handiwork. Adrian even fumbled with his flute for a moment, and just managed to get his tune going again as the bladebiters began shaking their heavy heads, blinking confusion from their eyes.

Scattered across the room were about thirty unconscious or otherwise disabled guards, their weaponry scattered about them. One or two of them had small cuts on their arms or legs, limiting their movements with pain. In one or two spots, there were small fires burning, clearly running off of residual magic. Nearby these fires were the smouldering bodies of mages, one or two of them still moaning in pain, and more than a few lying in great craters in the floor.

"Wow…" Amy murmured, taking a half-step back. There must have been at least thirty guards strewn across the ground, and none of them would be getting back up in a while.

"Terrifying," Owen nodded, swallowing a bit as he faced Isaac. He looked like he was about to speak, but Isaac cut him off before he could.

"Where's Cecilia, kupo?"

Owen, Adrian, and Amy all eyed him for a moment. Then, Amy turned, saying, "She'ssss right here…" Her voice trailed away as she did a full turn, not finding the moogle anywhere. She glanced back to Isaac, and gave a slight shrug.

"She was here just a second ago," Owen said, thinking. "She was asking about solitary confinement. She seemed particularly interested in the animists."

"Animists, kupo?" Isaac demanded, sharply. Behind him, Eileen also tensed, as both of their thoughts reached the same conclusion at the same moment. "What about animists?"

"They're all held in solitary," Owen said, glancing from the moogle to the nu mou. "What's wrong?"

"Cecilia's sister is an animist," Eileen explained. Isaac's eyes had narrowed as soon as Owen had finished speaking, and he wasn't moving. The alchemist went on. "She was arrested a couple of years ago in Cadoan. She's probably gone off to try and rescue her alone."

As Eileen finished speaking, they all heard a harsh, sudden noise. They all turned quickly, and found that the bangaa that Vili was holding was letting out a wheezing laugh, wincing every once in a while from the pressure on his throat. Vili shot a quick look to Isaac, arching her eyebrows. The moogle gave a quick nod, and Vili turned, extending a leg and tripping the bangaa backwards over it.

The large warrior gave a laughing yelp of surprise as his back slammed into the ground, and then his voice cut out in a gurgle as Vili wrapped one hand around his throat, the other hand bringing the katana down until it rested against his neck.

"Talk," she ordered. "Now."

Vili loosened her grip on his throat a bit, and the bangaa grinned, still letting a few weak chuckles. "Your friend. She'ssss already dead. By now, her head issss probably lying on the floo—"

His voice died again as Vili's hand turned into a vice on his neck. She pressed down slightly with her katana, and a small trickle of blood flowed around the edge.

"Explain."

"My leader," the bangaa hissed, a grin still plastered to his face. "He'ssss guarding solitary confinement perssssonally. He knew that you would come here, firssst, and then ssssend a ssssmaller group to releassse them. He wanted to sssseparate you, sssso he could enjoy the hunt more. You've walked right into hissss handsss…"

"Your leader, kupo," Isaac's voice growled, catching the bangaa by surprise. The moogle was still several feet away, his knuckles white as he gripped the hilt of the Materia Blade. "Is his name Khorin Blackhand?"

"Yesssss…" the bangaa hissed, his smile widening slightly.

"Alright," Isaac nodded, his teeth barely parting as he spoke. "Thank you. Vili, shut him up, kupo."

The viera nodded, and then drew her katana back, punching forward to slam its pommel into the bangaa's forehead. The lizard's body tensed, then relaxed, and Vili stood up, leaving the unconscious bangaa lying on the floor.

Isaac was already speaking as she stood. He had turned towards the door, and was walking towards it. "You five stay here and protect the prisoners, kupo. I'll see if I can intercept her, kupo, and if not—"

"The last time you fought Khorin on your own, he sliced you open, and you nearly bled out," Eileen interrupted, stopping the moogle in his tracks. "You're not doing it alone, this time."

Isaac rounded on her, and looked as though he were about to reply sharply, but stopped when he saw the look in her eye. It wasn't pleading; no, far from it. Her green eyes were hard, and the moogle understood perfectly well that if he didn't listen to her, she would see to it personally that he regretted it.

"Fine, kupo," he said at last, and she gave a slight nod. "You can come with me, kupo."

She was already shaking her head, though. "No. Somebody has to protect the prisoners on this end, and it may as well be me. Bring those four with you."

Isaac and the four younger members of the party, who had remained silent all throughout the pair's exchange, all took surprised steps back at Eileen's suggestion. There was silence for a couple of minutes, before Isaac finally managed to speak.

"You want to send four fourteen year olds against Khorin Blackhand, kupokupo!?"

"No. I want to send four warriors with an Ultimate as their guide to fight a single man. I'm staying here to guard the prisoners in case this is another distraction, and Khorin's just waiting for the two of us to leave these four alone to attack them. Besides, you forget," her hard look softened, and a small smirk crossed her face, "we know that five fourteen year-olds can take on a vampire lord in a jagd and come out alive."

Isaac watched her for a few more seconds, obviously thinking it over in his head. Then, he glanced over to Vili. "Go into the cells and find a beastmaster that knows how to control rockbeasts. We're leaving them here as back up for Eileen, kupo. The rest of you, sharpen your weapons. We're heading out."

---

Cecilia groped along through the darkness, unsure of how far she had gone. Eventually, she felt her hand sloping away, and knew that she had reached the fork in the hall that led off to the solitary confinement area. She gave herself a slight nod, and kept walking, keeping her ears trained.

She wasn't completely sure what had possessed her to head out on her own. All she knew was that as soon as she had heard Owen mentioning the animists, she had felt a stronger pang of loneliness and longing for her sister than she had ever felt in the past two years. Until that stormy night those two years previous, the two of them had never been apart for longer than a couple of months. It had always been the two of them; July the gifted prodigy, and Cecilia the beautiful but woefully less talented younger sister.

Of course, July hadn't just left her out in the dust. No, far from it. She had demanded that the musical conservatory in Cadoan supply lodging for both of the sisters, and had even managed to get Cecilia teaching with one of the finest instructors that the city had to offer. On top of this, she taught her sister personally as much as she could manage, helping Cecilia to emerge as a talented if plain musician in her own right.

Throughout it all, July never complained, and always said that she enjoyed it. Cecilia, however, knew better. She knew that she had always been a weight to her elder sister, and that the constant pressure of being a prodigy and proving her worth at the conservatory weren't helped at all by the younger Jones sister's presence.

So, when July had met Lini the Mogknight, and several months later received an invitation to partake in a major mission, Cecilia was happy for her sister. It would be a well-needed break from her average life, and a chance for both sisters to grow and develop on their own.

When July had returned from her several month long excursion, however, she seemed like a completely different moogle. Before, she had worked at her music and supported her sister almost out of duty; she did it because that was what was expected of her, and doing any different was beyond her scope of understanding. Now, though, she was driven; driven to create, and driven to better understand those around her. Whenever Cecilia asked her anything about her trip, July would always mention something about a gadgeteer, and a mogknight she always referred to as an 'idiot'.

When the palace made its move against Cadoan, taking it over from the inside out, July had not taken it silently. She began operating a network of rebel animists, using their spellsongs to confuse and slow palace forces, all the while continuing to teach music to younger moogles in the area. Cecilia had helped as well, and for a while, it had been fun.

Soon, though, things began getting dangerous. The palace made more and more crackdowns, and at about that time, people started disappearing. Feeling terrified, July had fled the city with Cecilia in the dead of the night, and Cecilia assumed that they were going to find and join Clan Nutsy or some other organisation of the kind.

It had been to her greatest surprise when they had arrived in Baguba port on a stormy night, and July had headed directly to the airship dock. She went up, and tracked down a large combat ship that was crewed by ragged-looking pirate hunters. After a dizzying series of conversations that Cecilia had barely been able to follow, the younger sister had been left with the captain of that ship, a brown furred moogle with a ruined paw.

During her two years on the ship, Cecilia had done everything she could to learn how to fight; how to fight properly, at least. After a good deal of begging, she had convinced Isaac to teach her how to fight with a blade, and she eventually became a member of their boarding crews when battling pirates. Whenever anybody on the crew had asked, she had said that it was simply so that she could learn how to protect herself; the world was becoming a dangerous place, and it was only natural that she should know how to fight.

The real reason, though, was something much different. She had learned how to fight because she had known that at some point, July would come up against a fight that she could not win with her music.

Now that it seemed that time had come, Cecilia knew that it was her turn to protect her sister.

Cecilia was roused from her thoughts when she saw a light up ahead. Instantly, she stopped, and took a few breaths. Her grip tightened on the Avuir Blue's hilt, and she squeezed the leather strap around her paw that attached her shield to her arm, just to reassure herself.

She kept walking forward, training her ears for the sound that would betray any coming attacks. She shifted her stance so that she was walking on the balls of her feet, and went relentlessly forward.

Eventually, she reached the light that she had seen; it was a large room, with a plain stone floor. The walls were lined with heavy iron doors, sealed with several locks, and most of them evidently closed with magic. At the farthest corner of the room, there was a set of stairs leading up to a balcony that surrounded the room with another level of doors.

Cecilia quickly glanced around the room, and when she didn't see anybody, she walked carefully forward. Torches flickered in the walls, casting dozens of flickering shadows from Cecilia's feet. She turned slowly around, her grip tight on her weapons.

Then, suddenly, there was a roar, and the entire room burst into flames. Cecilia opened her mouth to cry out in surprise, but managed to stop herself as she saw that the flames all seemed to be… transparent. She looked hard at one patch of flames for a moment, and suddenly she could see through that one tiny area, piercing to the stone floor beneath.

Understanding that she was having an illusion cast upon her, Cecilia took a deep breath, then closed her eyes. She ignored the smell of smoke and the heat of the flames, and focused instead on the crackling of the flames. After a moment, she had managed to pick up the steady, regular rhythm that they set off; far too regular for real fire. She relaxed, and waited.

Suddenly, just off to her left, she heard a disruption of the rhythm. Moving on instinct, the moogle spun, the Avuir Blue leading. The blade connected with steel, and Cecilia felt the illusion fade slightly around her. She opened her eyes, and yelped, raising her shield in a quick block as a second attack came in at her.

She just managed to intercept the curved blade, but the force of the blow pushed her back a couple good feet. She stumbled out of her retreat, and set her legs again, then raised her eyes to look at her attacker.

A tall human stood a couple of steps ahead of her, holding a pair of well-used katana comfortably at his sides. Her eyes widened as she realised that her opponent had managed to shove her back that hard with a one-handed strike. His slender build didn't suggest that much brute force, but she had felt the evidence herself.

The human eyed her for a moment, then smirked. "So, they sent _one_ moogle out alone? Your commander must be more cold hearted than any rebellion member I've ever met."

"Captain Isaac isn't cold hearted," she snapped, licking her lips a bit. "I'm here on my own, kupo. I have personal business."

Khorin's smile widened, and he suddenly lowered his weapons, leaning back comfortably. " 'Personal business'? Is that it? And Isaac is in charge of this mission… well, that makes things interesting." He seemed to think for a moment, then said, "Seeing as you're here with Isaac, am I to assume that you're Cecilia Jones?"

To her credit, Cecilia barely batted an eyelid at having the ninja guess her identity so easily. However, the trained fighter managed to pick out the slightest trace of tension that ran through her, and he nodded, not allowing her to speak.

"In that case, I would assume that you're here for your sister July, yes?"

Cecilia eyed him suspiciously for a short time. Then, she finally said, "You already seem to know everything, kupo. There's no point in me answering. What are you trying to do?"

"Do?" Khorin shrugged, and his smile took on something distinctly wolfish. "I intend to have my men kill your sister while you're watching, and then I'll kill you after you're broken. Sound good?"

Cecilia's grip faltered on the hilt of the Avuir Blue, and she stared. "Kupopo?"

"Exactly," Khorin said, then gave a sharp nod towards the balcony. Cecilia turned, and to her surprise, she saw four guards emerge from the shadows on the edge of the balcony, and begin moving towards one of the cells. A chill ran down Cecilia's spine, and she turned, facing the stairs.

But of course, Khorin stood in her way, both weapons held ready once again. That wolfish grin was still on his face as he said, "You'll have to defeat me if you want to save her. And I'd do it quickly."

Cecilia stared at him for a moment, caught completely off guard by the sudden ultimatum. However, she saw the group on the balcony moving out of the corner of her eye, and without a second thought, she sprang forward, the Avuir Blue leading.

Khorin parried the blow easily, and then sent a sweep at her head with his other weapon. Cecilia, knowing that he was moving too fast for her shield, ducked and turned, letting the attack pass just over her head, and punching out with her shield at his legs. The human jumped over the attack easily, and brought both katana down over his head in a double chop at her head.

Cecilia only just managed to catch sight of the attack, caught halfway through her spin, and had no other option but to pull her legs up quickly, going into a sloppy tuck and rolling across the floor. Still, she felt the stinging pain of one of the weapons biting into her arm and leaving a small scratch.

She managed to throw enough momentum into her roll that she came back up to her feet, and turned, facing Khorin again. He hadn't followed her; he was watching, waiting. It seemed that he was determined for her to be on the attack in this fight. She risked a glance up at the balcony, and saw that the quartet of soldiers was still walking.

Cecilia growled, and then jumped at Khorin, punching out with her shield in a direct attack at him. The ninja blocked with a single katana, but Cecilia pushed harder, and forced that weapon out far to the side. She slashed with the Avuir Blue at his exposed side, but he managed to get the other katana to come down and intercept this blow soundly.

She pulled the blade back quickly, its magical lightness speeding her movement as the weapon came down to swipe at his legs. Khorin, though, had very little trouble hopping over the attack, and kicking forward as he did so to smash his foot into her nose.

The moogle stumbled back as stars exploded before her eyes, a throbbing pain taking over her face. She lost her footing, and fell hard onto her rump. Even as she hit the ground, though, she was kicking her feet out, and trying to put some distance between herself and the ninja.

She needn't have bothered. When she finally managed to get her vision clear and wipe her running eyes, she saw that he was still standing there, waiting.

"You've had two opportunities to make the kill, kupo!" she exclaimed, shaking at the fiery adrenaline pumping through her body. "Why are you hesitating?"

"I told you," he shrugged, flexing his black hand on the hilt of his katana a bit, "I want you to watch your sister die, first. Then I'll get around to killing you."

Cecilia panted, and then glanced up at the balcony again. The guards had reached the door they had been heading for now, and were fumbling with the many locks.

Letting out a grunt of exertion, the moogle pushed herself up to her feet, then slashed, sending a lance of moonlight out of the tip of her weapon. Khorin sent his katana forward, almost lazily, and picked the attack out of the air.

Cecilia came hot on the heels of the lance, making a direct stab forward. The human brought the same katana that had blocked the mog lance back, and slammed it against the side of the thrusting blade.

The force of that strike killed Cecilia's momentum and sent her into an unbalanced spin to the side. She stumbled for a moment, then found her footing and managed to turn the trip into a quick pirouette, slashing with the Avuir Blue as she came back around.

Khorin barely had to move to dodge the attack, simply leaning back a bit. He then took a step forward, in close enough that Cecilia wasn't allowed the reach for a backhand, and swiped out with both katana.

The moogle's shield came forward, and both weapons rang off of its surface. However, as she stood, on the toes of one foot, she had barely any traction. The force of the two blows pushed her off-balance, and she fell, rolling over her shoulder.

She came back up to her feet, then turned and lunged at him again. He twirled the katana in his right hand in a fast circle, smashing it into the side of her blade several times. The force of the strikes knocked her away to the side, and she stumbled, falling to the ground.

She pushed herself back up into a standing position, her arms beginning to shake with exertion. She was not throwing weak attacks at Khorin; quite the opposite. She was throwing all of her strength into each blow, and he was blocking each one without the slightest difficulty.

She turned to face him again, expecting to find him watching her as he always seemed to. However, he was too busy glancing over his shoulder, up at the balcony. He turned back to her for a moment, and flashed that wolfish grin. "Too late."

Cecilia looked up quickly at the balcony, and saw to her horror that one of the guards was already pulling the door open. The other three were drawing their weapons, and a nu mou was stepping forward, golden light rising from his hand.

Cecilia raised her blade, and lunged at Khorin one more time, throwing everything into a final surprise stab, and aiming for his chest. He moved easily, twirling around the attack so that at the end of the spin, his katana's edge was resting against her throat. Cecilia's eyes widened, and he held her there, grabbing a hold of her shoulder to make sure she wouldn't get away.

The nu mou walked towards the doorway, and raised his hand, clearly using the magic as a light in the black cell. He glanced about for a moment, then asked, "July Jones?"

There was a moment of tense silence. After several long seconds of silence, the nu mou moved to take another step forward.

Suddenly, a white form catapulted out of the cell, slamming square into the nu mou's chest. The surprised spellcaster fell back under the attack, and held his hands up, yelling out the first syllable of a spell.

The moogle on his chest drew a balled up paw back quickly, and slammed it down into the side of the nu mou's face, knocking him off-balance and killing the command word on his lips. The moogle followed this with two more quick slams from her fists, before a human guard lunged at her with a sword.

The moogle rolled hard towards the human, going beneath his weapon as it plunged down to stab into the nu mou's gut. The human, horrified by his mistaken strike, pulled his weapon out, his grip loosening on the hilt.

At that moment, the moogle, still rolling, slammed into his shins, and pitched him forward. The moogle rolled a few more feet as the human fell to the balcony floor, before she pushed herself up to her feet, taking several quick steps backward.

As she got that distance between herself and the four guards, it became clear that the moogle, though emaciated, haggard, and clothed in dirty rags, was July. Her fur was shaggy and stained with dirt and blood, and there was a nasty scar showing through the fur on her left hip, just where a tear was in the remains of her pants. However, that perfect posture, and the cadence with which she moved, along with her pale green eyes, left no doubt in Cecilia's mind about who it could be.

July panted as she stood there for a moment, taking in her surprised opponents. The human was picking himself up, while the nu mou was bent over double, cursing slightly under his breath, but not fatally wounded. The other two guards were watching her carefully, now, realising that they had underestimated their opponent.

"Cecilia," July growled, her voice slightly more gravelly than Cecilia remembered, "Get away from him, kupo. _Now_."

And with that, the animist opened her mouth, and started singing.

The moment that Cecilia heard the first notes, her eyes widened, and her brain went into overdrive. She ran through a dozen possible scenarios in her mind over the course of an instant, then acted. She closed her eyes, and focused all of the moonlight she could muster to create a protective layer across her throat, just under the sharp edge of the katana. As July's voice rose, both in volume and in pitch, Cecilia raised her foot, then brought it down to stomp on Khorin's boot.

The ninja cursed, and the three standing guards on the balcony rushed at the animist. Cecilia, feeling the momentary lax in the pressure on her throat, pushed forward, slamming her neck into the katana's edge as hard as she could, and pushing it away from herself. July raised her paws as her singing reached a frenzied pitch, and she pointed at the three guards advancing on her.

Pain erupted in Cecilia's neck as the edge of the katana broke the skin, but she didn't let up her momentum. She simply closed her eyes as the burning line was drawn across that vulnerable piece of flesh, and as the katana finally pulled away from it, she threw herself forward into a roll away from the ninja. She still hadn't had the moment she needed to try and breathe and see whether or not she had just slit her own throat.

As the three guards drew in close with July, raising their blades for a final slash, she cried out, her voice gaining resonance beyond what the prison chamber should have allowed, "_Kommen Sie, komm irgendwelche, komm eins jetzt!"_

As Cecilia came back up to her feet, she brought her paw up to her neck, and felt the deep scratch in her neck, gasping as her paw slipped on the blood dribbling down it. To her relief, the air from her gasp filled her screaming lungs, and she took another quickstep away from Khorin as all of the torches in the room dimmed.

The guards, up on the balcony, didn't slow as their weapons came down, slicing for the undefended animist's head. However, a moment before the weapons would have hit her, July looked up, and opened her eyes.

Lightning burst from her irises, jumping forward in coiling forks. They weren't powerful enough to hurt the guards, but they were far more than enough to frighten them into stumbling back from the animist. As they pulled away from her, though, they caught sight of the figure standing behind her.

An elderly man, dressed all in brown and yellow robes, stood leaning on a staff behind the animist, lightning crackling and jumping from him in bursts. A hood was pulled over his face, but a long white beard emerged from beneath it, as the bent figure of Ramuh waited, listening to July's voice, still singing.

The animist's voice jumped slightly, and she raised her paw, pointing it at the guards. Behind her Ramuh seemed to consider it for a moment. Then, he raised his hand, the staff clutched in it, and pointed.

A deafening roar filled the room, resounding off of the walls and making the balcony shake with the force. Light exploded from the god's staff and arched forward in a terrifying blast of electricity, instantly drawing lines across the vision of all who saw it. The three lead guards stood no change. The lightning rushed over them, and within a moment, nothing was left of them but for a few ashes and the reek of burnt flesh.

The nu mou, a few feet behind, just managed to raise a bloodstained hand and let out a thrust of golden magical energy. The electricity slammed into it, and though it wasn't stopped or slowed in the slightest, the shield did manage to deflect part of the attack off to the side, blowing a portion out of the balcony.

Not wasting his opportunity, the nu mou pointed, and called out a spell command. Water blasted from his fingers, and the solid ball slammed directly into July's chest. The force of the blow threw her back a step, but she somehow managed to keep her singing going just as strong, and with another command, Ramuh blew spellcaster away.

Seeing that her closest threats were annihilated, July turned, looking down at the floor of the room.

Khorin stood there, looking up at her and the god. Clearly, he had forgotten Cecilia when the summoning had come through, and the other moogle now stood hugging the wall to keep out of the way. He had sheathed one katana, and now stood with his black hand clamped around the hilt of his weapon, standing in a flawless ready stance as she regarded him.

The two of them sized each other up for several long moments, the room silent but for the crackling of lightning and July's haunting voice, and dark but for the inconsistent shadows that were thrown about them by the electricity.

As one, the two of them moved. July pointed, and her singing jumped again. A pure white blast of lightning cleared the distance between the two combatants within an instant, faster than either's eyes could follow.

Khorin, however, had started moving before the blast even came. His katana came down, and as it did so, intense yellow fire erupted along its length. The lightning slammed into the weapon, and for a moment, it stopped there, pushing against the barrier of magic that the ninja had thrown up.

Then, Khorin gave a roar, and pushed his katana further, sending the lightning bolt off to blow a massive gore into the stone floor. As his katana moved, his free hand slipped into the folds of his black clothing, and came out holding a knife. He whipped the weapon forward, and let it fly towards July.

The animist cried out, and a wall of lightning jumped up in front of her, easily large enough to block the small knife. However, before it collided with the wall, Khorin flexed his fingers into a complicated motion, and the knife came apart into a cloud of metallic dust.

Seeing the trap, July thrust her paws forward, and sent a desperate blast of electricity at Khorin in the hopes of destroying him before he could land that blow. Khorin, knowing that he couldn't pull off another block like he'd just made, made a couple more small motions with his hands, then dove into a roll, trying to get away from the lightning.

Both attacks landed at the same moment. The dust swooped directly into July's eyes, sending her stumbling backwards in pain, as the energy blew another hole into the floor, not hitting Khorin directly, but sending him skittering away at the force of the impact.

Khorin came back up to his feet, roughed up slightly, and saw, to his own amazement, that the animist had still managed to keep the summoned god by her side, even despite the direct hit of that attack. That said, she was blinded now, and there was no way she could hear him above the sound that lightning was making. She would be firing blind.

And fire blind she did. She threw an arm out, and lightning jumped out from Ramuh in a wild line. Khorin jumped out of the way as the blast came uncomfortably close at one point, and glanced up at the animist again. He tried to pick out what he could do to stop her, and his eyes widened.

Quickly, he slapped his palms together in a complicated motion. Then, he pointed up at her, and fed the movement a tiny bit of magical energy. Instantly, the water covering the moogle from the nu mou's previous attack ran through her fur, and converged around her mouth, before lunging forward into her throat.

July's blinded eyes widened, and she gurgled as she tried to keep singing. After a moment, though, her voice was completely gone, and, quite suddenly, behind her, Ramuh's image fluttered, and then the god disappeared.

For a few long moments, there was perfect silence, and the world was dark. Then, gradually, the light returned, and the soft crackle of the torches reached their ears.

Khorin stood, panting, in the centre of the room, surrounded by blown up tracks of the floor. He shook his head, and a bit of perspiration dripped from his forehead as he turned to glance at Cecilia.

"Well, that was exciting, wasn't it?"

Cecilia stood, staring at him in outright terror now. She was barely even holding onto the hilt of the Avuir Blue as her body shook. That shouldn't have happened. None of that should have happened. There was no way anybody could survive that kind of assault. It was impossible. No. It couldn't.

Seeing the moogle's terror, Khorin went on, smirking, "You're scared. You're right to be. This is what you've gotten into; most of us involved in this fight are at this level. You came into it unprepared, and made a stupid mistake. The stronger always rule; the stronger always survive." With that, he reached down, and drew out his other katana. He shook himself, then began walking towards her. "Often, they survive at the expense of the weak."

Cecilia stumbled as Khorin approached, and slipped down the wall into a sitting position. She could barely move now as the ninja approached, and raised his weapons, preparing to thrust. He eyed her for a second, then his grin widened.

"You should be thankful. Most of the people I've fought would've made you feel every moment of your death. I'll do it quick."

He lunged forward.

There was a horrendous screech that lasted for no longer than an instant, and then, suddenly, Khorin jumped back as a brown streak slid across the stone floor to stand in front of Cecilia. The figure's slide stopped as he came in front of Cecilia, then lunged forward, slashing.

Khorin, though surprised, managed to parry the attack with both katana, and held the weapon evenly as Isaac glared up at the human.

"You're lucky," the moogle hissed, a deep furrow in the fur on his forehead. "If I had arrived a moment later, I would have had to kill you, kupo."

"I thought you were a pacifist?" Khorin asked, a grin playing on his lips.

"I have my limits," the moogle spat back, then jumped back, moonlight bursting from the tip of the Materia Blade.


	106. Dark as Black

Khorin's katana swiped down, knocking the mog lance out of the air. At the same time, he took a step forward, stabbing out with his free weapon. Isaac's blade came back across, knocking the katana out of the way. Khorin spun in a tight pirouette, holding his katana out and sending several slashes at the moogle.

Isaac continued backing up, swiping his blade back and forth to pick the attacks off. The moogle had to measure his steps carefully, giving as little ground as possible while keeping his balance. He knew from his last battles with the ninja that his only chance of defeating him was keeping a cool head and responding to his instincts on a moment's notice.

Suddenly, Khorin stopped dead in his spin, and lunged forward in a double katana chop at the moogle's neck. Isaac ducked under the two weapons, feeling one of them give him a slight nick on the tip of his right ear. He winced slightly, then dove forward, extending his shoulder to tackle the human in the stomach.

The human gasped slightly, and fell back as the wind was knocked from his chest. As he fell, though, he swiped out with both weapons, and the flat side of his right katana slipped in and slapped Isaac in the side of the face.

The strike knocked Isaac clear off of his feet, throwing him back and into the air. He managed to billow out his wings, and right himself so that he landed easily on his feet. Isaac glanced up, panting already from that short exchange.

Khorin stood across from him, having already regained his breath. Now that there was a lull in the combat, Isaac could really look at the ninja and the surrounding room, checking on the state of everything. Khorin himself had clearly come out worse for wear from his exchange with July. His black clothing was torn in several places, and many of these tears revealed small cuts underneath. His right-hand katana was smouldering, and the moogle could see a jagged scorch mark running up its side. On top of all this, the human's eyes lacked some of their normal luster; clearly, he had already used a good deal of his magical energy.

The room itself, though, impressed upon Isaac the great level of skill that must have been required of the ninja to be in even that weakened state. Everywhere, the ground was torn up in great gouges, most of them still smouldering more than Khorin's blade. Bits of debris had smashed into the walls, and a small section of the balcony that surrounded the room had collapsed. Much to Isaac's relief, all of the heavily enchanted doors to the cells were still standing. Clearly, they had been designed with express purpose of holding in the kind of firepower they had just experienced.

Isaac spoke, breaking the silence between the two of them. However, his voice wasn't directed to Khorin. "Have you got her, kupo?"

"Yes," Vili's voice replied. Isaac didn't turn to look, but he saw Khorin glancing past him to the door to the room. By now, the other four younger members of his group would no doubt have retrieved Cecilia, moving her to get her out of the way of the battle.

Nodding slightly and still not looking, Isaac said, "Good. In that case, kupo, all of you get away and don't stop moving until you reach Eileen. Send her here to help me."

"And how long do you think that will take?" Khorin asked, his eyes returning to regard the moogle. "At least ten minutes, I'd say. Do you think you can last half that long against me?"

"You forget, kupo," Isaac muttered, tensing his muscles and assuming a ready stance, "I fought you far longer than that in the Koringwood, and I still managed to hold my own against a King Behemoth afterward."

"Oh, well now I'm just terrified," the ninja replied, his grin returning to his face. "How _did_ it feel, by the way, watching one of your best friends dying at another best friend's hands?"

"Shut up."

"And all to protect you, I hear," the human went on, grinning. "But then again, I guess it's nothing new to you. You're used to watching them die, aren't you? You've been covered in your friends' blood before."

"If you're trying to taunt me with Jacqueline's death, I suggest you stop, kupo."

"And why on earth would I want to stop?" Khorin asked, his grin widening.

"Because it might just work." The moogle was shaking at this point, his grip on the hilt of the Materia Blade so tight that the finger grooves were actually beginning to dig into his skin. His ears and wings were both pressed back flat against him, and his fur had fluffed up in aggression.

Despite the moogle's obvious rage, or perhaps because of it, the human went on, undaunted. "Why should that frighten me? It's clear that you're no match for me right now."

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded, jutting his chin forward sharply at the ninja's ragged clothing. "Your magic's half-drained at best, and you can't tell me that July didn't at least knock you around a bit."

"Oh, she certainly did," the human nodded, glancing up at the balcony, to where the moogle in question was still bent over, trying to cough the water out of her throat as she crawled about in her blindness. It was clear that she could still hear everything being said, though, and a deep furrow of rage was etched into her forehead. "I think she might have actually been able to defeat me if she'd been at her full strength. At full strength, you might just be able to, as well. But that's the problem, isn't it?" The human licked his lips, returning his gaze to Isaac. "You're exhausted."

"Oddly, I feel anything but tired right now," the moogle shot back, still shaking as he stared at the ninja.

"But that's a lie. It's taking you just about everything to stand on your feet right now, isn't it? It isn't hard to tell; your eyes are completely blood shot, and all of your attacks back there were sloppy. You're nowhere near up to par with how strong you were in the Koringwood."

"You don't know what you're talking about, kupo!"

"How long has it been since you last slept, moogle?" Khorin watched him for a moment, and then a light came to his eyes, his smile widening dramatically. "Wait… don't tell me… you haven't slept since Koringwood, have you? You haven't slept since your friend died?" Isaac made no reply, but a small twitch of his eyebrow told the human all he needed to know. Khorin let out a great laugh, shaking his head and throwing his hands into the air. "Really? _Really_? It's been a month since that battle. You haven't slept in a _month_? How are you even alive, moogle? I almost feel guilty about fighting you in this state."

"Vili?" Isaac growled, still not taking his eyes off of Khorin.

"Yes?" the viera's voice called back, clearly hesitant.

"Get the others away, now, kupo."

With those words, Isaac hefted his gunblade, and began firing.

His finger became a blur on the trigger as he launched all of the bullets from his clip in rapid succession. Khorin, knowing that he would never manage to block all of the missiles, instead threw himself to the left in a roll, letting the shots fly by him.

Before Khorin had even managed to finish his roll, however, Isaac was slashing in his direction with his blade, moonlight gathering along its length and blasting from the tip. He aimed the mog lance low, trying to target it so that it would hit the ninja as he finished his roll.

Hearing more than seeing the attack, Khorin planted his hands next to his head, so that when he came around and he was upside down, his palms pressed flat against the ground. He pushed off hard, and threw himself into the air. The mog lance passed far beneath him, cutting a chip out of the ground.

Below, Isaac had already slammed a new clip into his gunblade. He glanced back to Khorin, and judged the ninja's flight. Narrowing his eyes, he pointed his gun to the ground, aiming for where the ninja would land, and fired three times in quick succession.

The first two bullets erupted with pale blue mist as they left the barrel, leaving a small stream of the cooled air behind them as they flew forward. The two bullets hit the ground, and formed up into a thick layer of ice over the ground, just on the edge of one of the gouges in the earth.

For the third bullet, Isaac tilted his gun up the slightest bit, and instead of blue mist, a roar of intense fire accompanied this shot. The fireshot launched forward, and just skimmed the surface of the ice that Isaac had just created. As it passed over, the surface of the ice melted the slightest bit. The bullet went by, and collided with the ground several metres later, leaving the surface of the ice slick with water.

Khorin, seeing the improvised trap as he came out of his front flip, tried to brace for the landing. His feet hit the slick surface moving fast, and even his great skill couldn't stop his momentum. However, he managed to take several staggering steps forward, slipping all the way, and he didn't fall.

His steps, though, did take him to the edge of the gouge, and even further into it. He jumped slightly as he went over the edge, and skittered down the short descent into the jagged stone beneath. His feet moved impossibly quickly to keep him from falling or twisting his ankle during the movement, but he managed it, and as he halted his momentum at the base of the gouge, he was already turning on one foot to face the moogle again.

About halfway through the spin, though, he felt a sudden tug behind him. Then, with no other warning, everything around him began pulling backwards, bending towards a single point. The wind whipped by him, carrying some of the smaller bits of debris with it.

The human finished his spin, and though he knew what he expected to see, it didn't surprise him any less. Isaac stood on the edge of the gorge, his gunblade held steady and trained on Khorin. All about him, energy was bending in towards him, amassing about as a great nexus of energy. Even the light about the moogle was bending, making Khorin's view of him distorted as he took a deep breath, and placed his finger against the trigger.

The energy built and built, and Isaac's eyes narrowed. Suddenly, its entire force focused down, enshrouding his gunblade, before being siphoned through the weapon into a single one of its bullets. That one bullet glowed through all of the metal shielding it, and the energy inside of it built up into a frenzy as Isaac began squeezing the trigger.

As he began pulling the trigger, though, something odd happened. Isaac's eyes fluttered slightly, losing focus for a few moments, and at the same time, the energy in the bullet dimmed. The moogle shook his head quickly, and aimed again, forcing the energy back up.

This time, once he had the charge of Ultima readied, the moogle didn't hesitate. Instead, he simply slammed his finger down on the trigger, and roared out, "Ultima!"

The energy slid down the barrel of the gun, visible through the thick metal. Isaac held the weapon steady as the charge journeyed along it, though the rest of his body shook with the effort.

As the blast of energy finally built up to its climax at the tip of the gun, though, a tremor passed through the moogle's body. The bullet burst from the gunblade, and flew forward, but even as it took off, it was clear that the missile would miss its target. The Ultima-laden bullet flew, and went several metres wide of Khorin, instead slamming into part of the wall at the far end of the room. There was a moment of deafening silence as it collided, and then the entire room shook with the discharge.

The first thing that anybody heard once the sound returned to the room was Isaac slipping to the ground with a soft thud, followed a moment later by the gunblade. The moogle simply lay there, unconscious and unmoving, as the smoke cleared from the wall, showing a spindly, spider-web design of cracks cut into the stone, centred around a central blast that dug in several feet.

There was silence for several moments as the dust thrown up by the explosion settled, broken only by the occasional piece of rock slipping to the ground. Then, a soft, awkwardly high-pitched noise echoed in the room.

Khorin shook his head, laughing and leaning on one of his katana. He glanced up at Isaac's body for a moment, then shook his head and kept laughing for some time. Finally, he managed to compose himself, and he shrugged, saying, "Well, Isaac, wasn't that a disappointing show? I told you that you were tired, and then you went and tried to cast Ultima? I thought you were a smart fighter."

The ninja stepped forward, scaling up the side of the gorge easily, and avoided the slick ice as he stepped up next to Isaac. He grinned, giggling a bit more, and then hefted one katana, keeping the other relaxed at his side.

"Well, Isaac, it's been fun."

He began bringing his katana down, the weapon whistling in the wind, when he twitched suddenly, and then spun. He came all the way around, both katana leading, swiping at the empty air.

They both stopped, suddenly, with a metallic clang, and the air shimmered. Before him, the figure of a young viera, dressed in tight black clothing, appeared, a katana held in both hands blocking his attack. There was a moment of silence as the two of them sized each other up, before both exploded into movement.

Vili stabbed forward several times in quick succession, trying to keep on the attack so that her opponent wouldn't have the time to find his balance. She barely even gave herself time to think, just following wherever her instincts told her to slash.

Her katana was picked off easily each time by the ninja's two weapons, and much to Vili's horror, Khorin didn't even take a single step back under her barrage. He simply stood there, nothing moving but his wrists as he tore her attack apart.

Growling in frustration, Vili made one last two-handed thrust, but midway through, she released her katana with one hand, and instead punched at the human's face with that hand.

The attack was fast, well-executed, and unexpected. Both Khorin and Vili knew it. Both of them knew that no normal warrior would be able to pull off such a sudden change in momentum with that much skill.

However, only one of them was surprised as Khorin released his left hand katana, his right hand going down to catch it so that it held both weapon. He simply leaned his hips to the left a bit to avoid the assassin's katana, and then reached up with his own hand, knocking her punch out wide and then retaliating with his own strike, smashing his fist into her nose.

Vili fell back with a cry, blood already beginning to drip down from her broken nose. The katana dropped from her surprised hand, hitting the ground with a loud clang. She landed hard on her rump, and balled up for a moment, her hands clutching her face.

Khorin flicked his wrist, sending one of the two katana in that hand up into the air. His foot snapped out and kicked the hilt of Vili's katana, sending it spinning across the room even as his free hand snatched his weapon out of the air. Not going for a flourish this time, the ninja made a direct double-thrust, going in low at his exposed opponent.

The attack was intercepted as, suddenly, a flash of red crossed in front of the twin weapons. Khorin recognized the blade blocking his katana immediately, and didn't hesitate, twirling to confront the wielder of the Avuir Red.

Amy ducked sharply as his weapons came at her, passing uncomfortably close to the top of her head. She came back up, slashing upwards with her blade as she did so. She marvelled at the speed at which the weapon moved, almost jumping into the attack of its own will. She was even more surprised a moment later, when Khorin stepped back out of the way of her slash, and she growled, thinking that she would have to stagger back off-balance from the attack.

However, as she tried to kill its momentum, the Avuir Red stopped dead, ending her own momentum at the same moment. She managed to keep her head about herself enough, though, to take advantage of the weapon's granted balance, and she stepped forward, slashing across at her retreating opponent.

This time, Khorin was ready for the attack, and he blocked it evenly on the edge of one katana. Using the moment, he stabbed backwards at the ground with his free katana. Instead of the soft give of a viera's flesh, however, he simply felt air passing around his weapon. The viera had disappeared, getting far out of the way.

He growled, and began bringing that weapon back around to try and slip it past Amy's defence, but stopped as he heard a voice crying out.

"_Wasser!_"

Khorin twirled, swinging one katana out at Amy to keep the bangaa busy, while the second weapon leapt out and cleaved through the orb of water that was coming for him. He felt the cool splash of water as the thing came apart, getting moisture all over his arm. The human glared at the nu mou for a moment, and Adrian stood his ground, holding his hands up in their usual casting stance.

The human was forced to move a moment afterwards, though, as his ears pricked up slightly. He sucked his gut in sharply, and raised both katana in a double block of the blade. As the three weapons rang off each other, an arrow flitted by just in front of the human's midrift, almost impossible to hear over the other weapons.

The human exchanged several more quick exchanges with the bangaa in front of him, Amy only barely managing to come out without major injury each time. He dodged several arrows during this time, coming from different angles as Owen circled the battle, looking for better angles.

The moment Khorin heard the mage behind him beginning to speak again, he knew that it was time to act. He jumped back in the middle of a thrust at Amy, and then pulled into a back tuck as another arrow whizzed by just shy of his skin. He did a half spin in the air, and landed running, heading dead for Adrian.

The nu mou's eyes widened, and he tripped over his words as he saw the human charging for him. Amy was moving to follow, but she was way too far behind. Owen was hastily reaching for an arrow, the look on his face betraying his knowledge that he would never fire it off in time. Vili was nowhere to be seen.

Adrian swallowed, and then raised his mace in a desperate block as the ninja came in.

When there was no more than a meter between the two of them, a flash of white and blue appeared between Adrian and Khorin. The white stopped moving, but the blue continued in an arcing path, sweeping out at the ninja.

Khorin leapt back, caught completely by surprise. He still managed to completely avoid the attack, though, and then come back forward with both weapons aiming for Cecilia.

The moogle met the attack squarely, sweeping her shield out in front of her almost in a punching motion. She managed to knock one of Khorin's attacks out wide with that manoeuvre, and picked off the other one by bringing the Avuir Blue back down and around.

Adrian stumbled back and out of the way as Khorin twirled, bringing both weapons down and across in a heavy double chop. Cecilia hopped back quickly, taking to the air as the two weapon passed just in front of her face. Her wings beat hard at the air, and she gave herself just enough height to make a direct stab at Khorin's neck, her shield covering her.

Moving faster than he should have been able to, the human brought both of his katana back up, smashing them into the Avuir Blue's side. The force of the blow was so great that it sent Cecilia spinning sideways, out of control in the air. Khorin moved to follow, but stopped abruptly as an arrow flitted by, just shy of his head.

The ninja turned, and raised a katana quickly to block a chop from Amy as the bangaa caught up with him. He moved to slash at the bangaa's exposed stomach, but stopped as the faintest of sounds caught his attention. He moved before he had time to think, his free katana slashing out at empty air.

There was a loud clash of steel, and suddenly Vili appeared behind the ninja, her katana blocked on the length of Khorin's weapon. She looked surprised at having been discovered, blood still dripping from her nose, and on the human's other side, Amy swallowed slightly. This ninja was _good_.

Khorin held his position, arms held akimbo with both katana blocking an attack on either side, and then narrowed his eyes. He flicked his wrists, his weapons moving faster than any of the combatants could follow, and brought both his swords down at his opponents' flanks.

Seeing the attack coming, Amy closed her eyes, a look of intense concentration crossing her features. The katana bit through the fabric on the side of her shirt, and then slammed into her scales, sending her falling to the ground several feet away. She hit hard, but much to everybody's surprise, there was no blood as she lay there, gasping for breath.

Vili wasn't as fortunate. She sucked her stomach in, rocking her hips back to try and avoid the attack as best as possible. Still, the katana's tip touched against the tanned skin of her side, and slashed through. Blood splattered out from the wound as Vili hit the ground, crying out and dropping her katana.

Knowing that he didn't have long, Khorin took a step forward, then spun his weapons around his wrists. He caught both of them in a stabbing position, and then, taking another step forward to stand between the two he began driving them down.

There was an intense flash of blue light, and suddenly, Owen was standing directly in front of the ninja, his sabre clasped in his hand. Blue light was surging around the hunter's face, twisting it rapidly. He opened his mouth, and suddenly tentacle sprouted from his cheeks, his teeth sharpening down to razors. He sucked in a deep breath, then let it out, spitting a glob of sizzling acid at the ninja before him.

Khorin ducked violently, whipping his head down and out of the way of the dangerous attack. He punched forward with the pommel of his right-hand katana, unable to make an attack with the blade while the weapon was in that position.

The strike slammed into Owen's shin, and there was a horrendous crunching noise. Owen's spell died suddenly, the blue light extinguished, and he roared in pain as his leg bent awkwardly in a direction it shouldn't have. He fell back, and landed hard on his back, biting his lip to try and quiet his own cries.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Cecilia dived over the fallen human, pulling a flip in midair with the help of her wings and the Avuir Blue. She came around, wings still flapping, and slashed at Khorin's head.

The ninja raised both of his weapons, and crossed them awkwardly over his head, holding the moogle there easily despite the uncomfortable position. The two of them stood like that for a moment, Cecilia flapping her wings to keep her in positiong.

Then, the moogle opened her mouth, and her body seemed to relax as her voice rang out, soft and melodious through the otherwise silent chamber.

Khorin didn't hesitate. Cecilia had both of his weapons cleanly blocked, so there was no way he could slash at her. However, he didn't care. He simply let go of one blade, and then thrust forward with that hand. He jammed his bunched up fingers into Cecilia's forehead, and a small spike of magic joined the two of them for an instant.

Abruptly, Cecilia's voice faltered, and her eyes grew confused as the song died on her lips. Seizing upon her moment of confusion, Khorin brought his free hand down to clamp onto her shoulder. He turned, still holding her, and whipped her down at the ground, hard.

The moogle slammed into the stone floor, crying out as something snapped in her right wing. She glanced up at Khorin, that confused expression still on her face as blood dribbled from a shallow, open gash on her forehead.

"Finding it hard to think straight?" the ninja grinned, shrugging. "It's a little trick I keep up my sleeve for annoying little things like you."

Without another word, the human spun suddenly, his free hand reaching into his robes. It came out with a knife, and he threw the weapon, sending it flying halfway across the room and into Adrian's stomach.

The nu mou's eyes widened, and he crumpled up, collapsing on the ground next to Owen. The faint golden glow he had been building up instantly dispersed, and he wheezed hard, shaking as his hand grasped weakly at the knife embedded in him.

Khorin smirked, watching the struggling nu mou for a moment. Then, he turned, slowly observing the circle of carnage he had made. Owen was still on the ground, his leg quickly beginning to swell and darken with heavy bruising. Vili had managed to get up to her knees, and she was bent double, holding a hand over her parted skin and pushing to try and stop the bleeding. Cecilia was still confused, and her injuries from earlier were clearly causing her a good deal of pain. Amy looked to be the one member of the five still capable of fighting, but she had yet to catch her breath, bent over double wheezing.

"My my my, five on one and you _still_ couldn't touch me?" the ninja asked, a wide smile on his face. "What a disappointment. I was hoping to at least get a bit of entertainment from this fight. Especially from you five. I know all about you; all of you have a reason to fight in this war. The moogle wants to save her sister; the nu mou has to return his city to its former glory; the viera has to prove to her sister and the rest of her people that she was right to take a side; the bangaa wants to reunite her people after they were shattered three and a half years ago; and the human wants to avenge his fallen family."

"What?" Owen gasped, his face still creased with heavy pain. Khorin cast him an amused glance, and the hunter went on, panting heavily with every breath. "My family's being held here, I don't have to avenge…"

Owen's voice died as Khorin laughed, shaking his head at the hunter's words. All of the others kept silent as the ninja spoke.

"You don't seriously think that we could let the Blue mage that managed to organise an escape survive, did you? Far too dangerous. And as for the rest of your family, well, I had to make a demonstration for the rest of the prisoners, just to show them the consequences, didn't I?"

Owen stared up at Khorin, still panting hard as the words sunk in. His entire body was shaking, and the colour had drained from his face as he lay there. Finally, he laid his head back, his eyes shut, and didn't make another sound, but for his heavy panting.

"Well, we may as well move things along, then." The ninja rolled his shoulders back a bit, then hooked his foot under the hilt of the katana lying on the floor. He kicked it up, and caught it easily, already taking his first stride towards Amy. "Normally, I would love to toy with all of you, and make you all watch as I kill the moogle's sister and your commander, there, but I've underestimated you too many times already. Besides, I need the cripple for a hostage when I fight the alchemist. Which means, I'll take you down, most dangerous first."

The human stopped directly in front of the bangaa, and he gave his weapons a small spin, then raised them. Amy glanced up at him, still wheezing, her eyes wide. The ninja smirked again, licking his lips, and his black hand tightened its grip on the right katana's hilt.

"Too bad for you."

He brought his katana down.

Moving suddenly, Amy rolled sideways, her hand grabbing the hilt of the Avuir Red as she went. The two swords bit shallow gashes into her side, but she kept moving until she came back around into a crouching position.

Knowing she stood no chance of landing an attack on the fast ninja, she instead, raised her empty fist, and with a roar, brought it down into the floor.

The force of the blow rippled through the stones of the floor, spreading out from the bangaa in a small wave. The stones reared, and Khorin, caught by surprise, stumbled back as the floor shifted beneath him.

As he stumbled close to her, Vili lunged at his feet. She raised her hand, and what looked like a spike of shadows amassed in it. The viera brought her hand down, and stabbed the darkness down into Khorin's own shadow, literally pinning it in place.

Abruptly, Khorin stopped moving, locked in place. All five glanced up, feeling tense as the human stood, frozen in place.

Then, suddenly, Vili cried out, and her hand was dragged across the ground a bit as the shadow moved. Khorin's torso moved jerkily, and he began bringing both katana around and down at Vili.

Twin streaks of red and blue dashed forward, and suddenly, Amy and Cecilia were on him. The bangaa twirled her weapon, pulling a complex manoeuvre and slamming her elbow into Khorin's arm. The force of the strike knocked his katana from his grasp, and she latched onto his arm, holding it back. At the same time, Cecilia brought the Avuir Blue down in an overhead chop at Khorin's other weapon. The two weapons rang off of each other, and then, using the moment after the strike, she brought her shield around to clamp onto the katana from the other side. In this way, she held the weapon out awkwardly to the side.

"Owen!" Vili roared, sweat pouring down her forehead and blood pumping from her wound as she kept struggling with her binding.

The hunter sat up quickly, his bow already loaded and in his hands. Even as he raised it, though, Khorin narrowed his eyes, and a pale yellow glow came off of him.

Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped, and the wind kicked up in a maelstrom. Snow swirled about all of them, driving into their eyes and quickly numbing all of their nerves.

Owen blinked, cursing. He couldn't see a foot in front of his face through the heavy snow. How was he supposed to fire if he couldn't see?

He started, and glanced down as he felt a warm hand touch against his ankle. His eyes widened as he saw Adrian kneeling there, pale and shaking. The sage glanced up at him, and gave him a grim look.

"Do it. Now."

With that, the nu mou closed his eyes, and gold light seemed to erupt from him, shaping up into a great inferno of soft flames. The nu mou nodded slightly, and all of the golden flames reared up for a moment, before surging forward. They cut through the snow, then spread apart, essentially making a gold flame lined path before the pair. Everything within the path was untouched by the snow or the gale, showing Owen a clear view of Khorin.

Not hesitating, the hunter raised his bow, and released the string.

All of the roaring of wind died instantly, and suddenly, the only sound was the sharp twang of a bowstring. And it didn't ring out once. No, after the first shot, Owen's hands flew, drawing arrow after arrow and setting it to string, releasing it to fire at the ninja.

The first arrow alone was enough, though. It sprouted from Khorin's chest, quivering just to the left of centre. The human's eyes were wide with shock, and he glanced down, not quite believing it.

Finally, Owen's hands stopped moving, and his fingers, bleeding from having pulled the string back so many times so quickly, rested on the head of one last arrow in his quiver. All five of the companions stared at Khorin as he stood, supported by Amy and Cecilia's grips, with over a dozen arrows stuck in his chest.

Both released him, and the body slipped to the floor.

All five stood there for a moment, perfectly quiet. Then, Owen's voice, strained, spoke.

"Amy, go and get Eileen. Get her to send somebody to announce the battle's done."

Amy nodded, standing up and glancing around at all of her injured companions. She swallowed, and asked, "Anything else I should do?"

"Yeah." Vili had managed to sit back, and she had replaced her hand over her torn side, wincing. "Find us some healers." She cast a glance at Adrian, still bent over and shaking hard. "Fast."


	107. Lullaby

"Two hundred dead!" the nu mou said, glaring down the table at Marche. "_Two hundred_! A good thirty or so mages among them! Some of them incredibly wise ones, too; their knowledge is lost forever."

"And my warriorssss!" a bangaa hissed, pounding his fist into the table and sending papers scattering. "Many of them ssssstill in their youth! I knew them; I have fought besssside all of them for three yearssss, and sssssome for many more! What about them?"

Marche held up a hand, keeping his face stony and cold. Both the nu mou and the bangaa fell silent, though they were clearly holding themselves back as he spoke. "I'm sorry for your loss. The battle was a costly one. Clan Nutsy also lost warriors, as did the survivors of the Koringwood and our other allies. This has been a dark day."

"We can't continue like this, though!" the nu mou yelled, standing up from his chair. His pale blue robes were rumpled, the yellow star insignia of the Time mage smudged with dirt and blood. "Our numbers are small enough as it is! The palace outnumbers us many times over, and they have eyes everywhere. We can't win against them in a pitched battle!"

"Then what would you have suggested?" Marche asked, his eyes narrowing a bit now. "Would you have preferred it if we had just left the prisoners there to rot and die? How many innocent families did we save? How many warriors have we added to our ranks? We had a window, and we took it. Those that died entered the battle knowing the risks. We should be celebrating their bravery."

"We don't disssagree with your decccision to move on the prissson," the bangaa said, raising his hands to try and calm both the human and the nu mou. "You are right; we had no choiccce but to act. Our issue is that any battlesss to come will yield more casualtiessss. Perhapsss we should look at alternative methodsss to head on combat."

Marche eyed the bangaa for a moment, then glanced over at the nu mou, and back to the bangaa. The other members of Clan Nutsy and the leaders of all the respective groups had said not a word for some time, now, simply watching the three argue.

Finally, Marche asked, his voice even but clearly on edge. "Methods such as…?"

The nu mou and the bangaa both glanced to each other, and a nervous look passed between the pair. Then, the Time mage turned back to Marche. "Well, we could make somewhat more… covert attacks."

There was a deadly silence in the room. Marche counted out one breath, his eyes narrowing, and then asked, " 'Covert'?"

"Naturally, we wouldn't be able to move against any of the captains or the Queen in such a manner; all of them are too powerful," the nu mou pressed ahead, and then he paused, licking his lips, and went on. "However, if we were to attack a target that is clearly of a… weaker sort, we could cause significant damage. Perhaps even if we were to sneak an agent into the personal guard of the prince—"

There was a resounding crack as Marche's fist came down, slamming into the table. The table, a strong piece made of solid oak, splintered slightly under the force of the strike, and bits of parchment and drinks scattered away from the surface as he glared at the nu mou.

"You would suggest assassinating a _defenceless_ target? That's your grand plan?"

"It's just a possibility!"

"A possibility that I won't hear mentioned again," Marche snapped. His fist shook on the table, the knuckles white. Even the nu mou couldn't bear to look the paladin in his eyes as he went on. "We're trying to bring down an unjust force and implant a new one. How can we trust that our new order will be any better if it's stained with innocent blood before it even exists?"

"There'ssss sssstill one possssibility," the bangaa said, but his hesitance showed everybody just how nervous he was about voicing this idea. "I ressspect your decccision not to sssspill innocent blood. However, we _could_ potentially sssstrike a major blow againsssst the Palaccce by giving up a sssslightly… lessss innocccent life."

"You refer to Isaac?" This time, it wasn't Marche who spoke. Instead, all of the heads turned down the table to look at July. The moogle's fur had been somewhat washed out since the battle the few days before, and she had clearly already put on a few more pounds. She now sat at the table as one of the three elected leaders of the freed prisoners, with an aged bangaa dragoon on her left and a heavily scarred viera to her right. The moogle's eyes were calm as she regarded the bangaa, and she looked for all the world like she could have just been discussing the weather. "You would sacrifice him, kupo?"

"One life," the bangaa offered. "We could prevent the deathssss of hundredssss, maybe thousandssss of otherssss by taking a ssssingle life." He licked his lips again, then added, somewhat hesitantly, "He himsssself made a ssssimilar deccccision for a friend yearssss ago."

"If you're referring to the Sprohm Incident, he had no other choice in that situation." All eyes turned this time to regard Eileen. The nu mou had pushed back her chair somewhat, and although she was trying to conceal it, the aura of her magic was clearly visible about her. She set her jaw as she continued. "Somehow I don't think that the split-second decision of an injured sixteen year old in the midst of a crisis can be compared to that of a council of experienced leaders with enough time to hold meetings and debates on the subject."

"It's all well and good that his allies defend him, particularly when they number prominently in the numbers of this council." The nu mou cast a baleful glance around the members of the council, his eyes falling heavily over July, Eileen, the captains of the _Red Flash _and the _Fallen Star II_, and the several assembled members of Clan Nutsy. "However, we must look at this coldly. His is one life. If he isn't willing to give it up to save so many, then he isn't worth saving."

Eileen looked ready to jump across the table and throttle the Time mage, but Marche interrupted her by speaking first.

"Fine, we'll look at the situation coldly. Isaac spent three years leading the airship that protected Ivalice almost single-handedly from sky pirate raids. He lost the use of his right hand saving the life of an enemy. On several occasions, his actions have been responsible for saving the lives of many others, often at great risk to himself. He put a blade through one of his closest friends to save tens of thousands of people he had never met.

"On top of this, he is the moogle Ultimate, hand trained in combat by Lini the Mogknight. He has great knowledge of air combat, and is a skilled leader. Without a doubt, he is one of the strongest individuals in the rebellion.

"Finally, and most importantly, if we were to ask him to sacrifice himself to weaken the palace, he would do it without hesitation. So," the paladin finished, slowly interlocking his fingers and clasping his hands, "if you would kill such a moogle because it _might_ hurt the palace, feel free. I'm certain he wouldn't hold it against you. Just know that you would have the full force of Clan Nutsy, two airship crews, and the Ultimate of the nu mou opposing you."

The Time mage's face had grown increasingly dark as the paladin had continued speaking, and by now the pale blue aura of his magic was showing clearer than Eileen's orange one. Everybody could see the muscles in his fingers tensing, no doubt an instinct from years of battlecasting.

Suddenly, a heavy, scaled hand fell upon the nu mou's shoulder, and the Time mage glanced up at his bangaa ally. The bangaa kept his eyes on Marche as he gave a slight nod, saying, "We undersssstand. We won't bring up the ssssubject again."

"Thank you," Marche said, though his words were guarded. Even his hand had inched slightly closer to the hilt of his weapon during the few moments of silence. With conscious effort, he brought the hand back up, and placed both palms on the cracked surface of the table. "In that case, we should all focus our efforts on getting back to Jagd Helje safely. We still have at least three days of travelling left, and the palace could launch a surprise attack on us at any point. Stay vigilant."

With that, the meeting broke up, and all of the assembled leaders walked out of the tent, heading to their respective groups and tasks. Marche pushed himself up from the table heavily, shouldering the knightsword he kept by his side all hours of the day now, and gave a quick nod to the leaders of Clan Nutsy. Wordlessly, they disbanded, heading off to do whatever was required of them.

Shaking his head, Marche stepped around the table and out of the council tent, blinking slightly in the late afternoon light. Despite the brightness, there was a tangible chill in the air. Fall was well upon Ivalice, and it seemed that the coming winter would be a cold one. Marche hoped somewhat that the chill would limit if not completely restrict any combat with the palace for the winter. After the battle at the prison a week and a half previous he knew that they more than needed it.

Marche cast a quick glance around, and his eyes fell upon a small group from the meeting that had yet to disband. Eileen, July, and Rolf were standing in a small circle, speaking in hushed voices. All three looked at least a bit vexed, and Eileen was still showing her magic's aura.

Taking a deep breath, Marche stepped towards the group. As he approached, Rolf glanced up, and said something quickly to the other two. They turned to face Marche as he reached them, and all of them regarded him evenly.

"How's Isaac doing?" Marche asked, pulling his white cloak slightly tighter against the chill.

"I still don't think he's sleeping," Eileen said, shaking her head in clear annoyance. "I keep telling him that he has to, but he just won't listen."

"Any idea why?" the paladin asked, tilting his head to the side. Very few people had learned of the moogle's collapse during the operation to rescue the prisoners. The young group that had been with him had been wise enough to know not to repeat the events to anybody other than Eileen and Marche, and so as far as the rest of the rebellion was concerned, Isaac was largely responsible for distracting Khorin while Owen fired the fatal arrows. Still, the tight group of Isaac's friends, including Rolf and July, were determined to, if not understand the reason, then at least force Isaac to stop and rest for a change.

"He won't talk about it," Eileen replied. "It's odd. He's even more distant with me now than he was before the operation. It's like he's scared of me or something."

"Well, keep working on it," Marche shrugged, then stuck his hands in the inner pockets of his cloak, clearly trying to choose his words. Finally, he murmured, "Also, there's a small matter of added security to talk about."

"Meaning, kupo?" July asked, cocking an eyebrow slightly.

"I thought it might be a good idea to post a personal guard on Isaac at all times. Nothing official or noticeable; just somebody who's always going to have an eye on him from a distance, in case of any… attempts on him."

"Attempts from the palace, of course?" Eileen's tone made it clear that she suspected that the palace would not be the source of such an attempt.

"Of course," Marche nodded, agreeing with Eileen's unsaid appraisal of the situation. "I can't send any official guards to cover him, or else people would notice, so if anybody doesn't mind—"

"My crew has been taking turns keeping watch on him at night since the matter of the prophecy was first brought up," Rolf interrupted, fingering the hilt of his blade casually. "Don't worry; if anything happens, we'll know."

Marche blinked, clearly a bit surprised by that revelation. Then, he simply nodded, smiling at the other human. "Thank you, Rolf. Always a few steps ahead. How about your sister and the others?" Marche turned to glance at July, tilting his head in concern.

"Your healers have been tending to them very well," July said, nodding appreciatively. "I know that most of them will be making full recoveries, kupo. They're still not certain about Adrian's stomach, but I trust Guinness."

"Good," Marche replied, and the other three all noticed the slight loss of tension in his shoulders. All of them remembered how crestfallen the paladin had looked upon seeing how seriously injured some members of the group had been. In the two weeks that had passed since the battle in Dorsa, the human hadn't stopped asking about their condition, and the conditions of all of the prisoners that they had released.

The actual release of the prisoners had been an entire operation in and of itself. First of all, they all had to be introduced slowly back to the light; some of them had spent a whole three years without seeing any. Guinness had set to work on repairing any eye damage that he could, leading a small team. Eugene and Newman, meanwhile, had taken over the less delicate but more harmful effects of disease and malnourishment amongst the prisoners. It had taken a long time, and a good deal of sacrificing of rations among the soldiers in the army, but all of the prisoners were beginning to bulk up a bit, and most of them could walk in full sunlight without having to wince now.

Of course, the matter of finding out who was actually among the prisoners and who had died, either by disease and malnourishment or being killed by the guards, would be the work of many months. All in all, one thousand prisoners had been released, amongst them many extremely powerful individuals. Several entire clans, such as the Sprohm Knights, had been found, along with many surviving refugees from Sprohm and Cyril.

"So how has Owen been coping?" Marche asked suddenly, and the other three all glanced away uncomfortably for a moment, before Rolf replied.

"As best as can be expected. I think he knew that his father would be executed for helping him escape. His mother and brother, though…" The captain inclined his head a bit, shrugging. "It'll take some time."

There was silence amongst the four of them for some time after that. Owen's wasn't the only unhappy story to arise after the battle. More than a few prisoners had discovered that their partners, who had been held in the prison as well, had died during the past few years.

"Well then, let's take things one at a time," Marche muttered, glancing back to the other three. "We have Isaac protected; that said, we need to make sure he doesn't go and get himself killed. He has to start sleeping. Any plans?"

"I'm certain that I could get through to him, kupo," July offered.

"Are you sure?" Eileen asked, hesitant. "No offense, but I've known him my whole life, and you haven't really spoken to him in a few years…"

"You know Isaac very well, kupo," July said, making the alchemist glance up slightly in surprise. "Clearly, he means a good deal to you. That said, you don't know everything, kupo."

Eileen regarded her curiously for a moment, then asked, "And what do you know that's so important?"

"Simple," July replied. "I knew Lini."

---

When the large group finally reached Jagd Helje and completed the perilous descent into the bowels of the cave systems, there was an unspoken understanding amongst just about everybody that this would be where they wintered. The same day that the group returned, members of the reserve unit left behind to guard the jagd during the battle were sent out to begin building permanent look-out spots on the surface. The White mages found a small corner of the city with several larger and mostly intact airship hulls, and began setting up a more permanent hospital area. The council of leaders that day went straight from reports of the battle and congratulations on the successful meetings to discussions on where to find enough rations to last the winter.

Isaac, though, walked through all of it in a haze. He was doing his best to hide it, but after his battle with Khorin, he was feeling even more drained than before. His feet felt laden with lead, and more than once he found himself nodding off while he walked.

The moogle helped briefly with finding homes for the released prisoners, but soon he gave up on that. There were too many people trying to thank him, and more often than not he wouldn't even realize that they had said anything until long after they had left.

So, eventually, he simply walked away, and began walking along through the streets of Helje. By this point, most of the main streets and smaller routes around the coliseum had been cleaned up of debris, making them easy to take. Isaac, though, avoided these streets, not wanting to run into anybody. Instead, he stepped carefully over shattered hulls and ducked beneath hanging wreckage, all the while following a path that was clear in his mind.

Eventually, he walked out the far side of a small airship's skeleton, and found himself looking at a small shack with a rickety door. The moogle eyed it uneasily for a moment, and then approached it. He pushed the door carefully out of the way, and stepped in, glancing around at the place he had claimed as his residence in Helje. It had taken him some time to track down Diesel's old workshop after he had been healed, but it had been worth it. The seclusion from the rest of the inhabitants of Helje was one bonus, but it wasn't the real reason that he had picked this particular place. There were hundreds of other abandoned shacks like this one if he wanted them. No, what the workshop provided him was drawers and drawers of mechanical pieces to distract himself with.

Isaac sat at the worn work desk that Diesel had once used, and carefully picked up the current piece he was working on. He had managed to track down one of the gunner's custom razor blade guns, and he had been in the middle of figuring out how it had worked before leaving for Dorsa.

The moogle carefully lifted a screwdriver and began undoing the screws that held in the pneumatic launching system. It was odd how it worked. In order to get the discs to fly forward, a spin had to be put on them as they were fired. Of course, this meant that the discs would travel in a curve instead of a straight line, which would make it extremely difficult to aim. From his memory, Isaac didn't recall the grey moogle aiming oddly with his weapons, so it seemed as though the gun did something to regulate this issue on its own.

Isaac had yet to figure it out, though. He wasn't sure why he was so interested; he would never use the technology. No, definitely not. It was too dangerous in anybody's hands. The entire idea of a killing gun… it repulsed him. The thought that with a twitch of his finger, he could just end a life. It was too much for him. Or, possibly, it could be because he still associated the idea of a killing gun with Thoma—

_Suddenly, his mind recoiled sharply, and for a moment, intense pain exploded from his right paw. He was cold, he was bleeding, everything was fuzzy, he was shaking, something warm was pressed against him, words without meaning in his ears, and then yelling, roaring, crashing—_

_The sky, blue, filling his eyes, ears, mouth, nose, mind… It was everywhere… It calmed him… Made him want to touch—_

Isaac yelped, sitting up and pulling his left paw back sharply as pain lanced up it. He pressed it against his stomach and balled up for a moment, cursing under his breath. Panting a bit, the moogle pulled the paw back up, and glanced at it. A small cut had been drawn across the back of the paw, parting the fur and allowing blood to slowly well up.

Cursing again, Isaac glanced down at the gun he had been working on. It looked like a tense wire had snapped, and the end had whipped across his skin, inflicting the cut. Shaking his head at his own lack of alertness, the moogle glanced down at the wound again. He closed his eyes, focused, and then forced moonlight to gather around the wound. Slowly, it clotted, and a few bits of scabbing began showing up. Gasping, the moogle opened his eyes again, and glanced at the paw. It still stung, and it would probably open if it brushed up against anything. Still, it was fine enough.

The moogle licked his lips, and then, hesitantly, he turned his gaze down to his right paw. The pain he had felt for a moment there, just as he had had his small fit, had felt so real. Could it be possible that…?

Isaac sighed as his eyes fell upon dead, withered skin, his paw just as useless as it had been before. Gingerly, he prodded the ruined limb with his healed left paw, but felt nothing. Just a phantom limb, then. Fine. He could live with that.

"You should really get that looked at, kupo."

Isaac tensed, then turned sharply, his left paw going down to the hilt of the Materia Blade. As he came around, though, the paw relaxed its grip, even though the rest of his body remained just as on edge. July stood inside of the shack's door, leaning against the frame comfortably with her arms crossed over her chest. The pale green light that filled the jagd filtered in around her, and gave her fur a greenish tinge.

"You don't know what's on that wire," the animist went on, not moving or changing her neutral expression. "It could get infected."

"I think the healers have bigger matters to deal with, kupo," Isaac replied, turning away from her. He glanced down at his shirt, and grimaced a bit at a bloodstain where he had rubbed his paw against the fabric.

"Most of the healing has already been done by this point, kupo," July pointed out, still not moving. "There are only a few left that the more powerful mages are giving long term care to. We can't have you becoming unable to fight if—"

"I'm fine, kupo," Isaac snapped, rounding on the animist. "If you just came here to try and tell me to heal up my paw, then you've done your job, and you can go."

July didn't move, and her expression didn't change. Isaac may as well have said nothing. She simply said, "I didn't come to comment on your paw. I just noticed it when I got here. I came here to discuss your irresponsibility, kupo."

Isaac eyed her for a long moment, clearly caught off guard by her words. Then, he growled, "I don't remember saying you could come in, kupo. I would leave."

At this, July cocked an eyebrow, a small grin showing in the corners of her mouth. "Are you trying to threaten me, kupo?" When the gunner showed no reaction, her smile widened, and she chuckled. "You don't scare me, Isaac. Three years ago I said that I could take you down with one finger on a string, kupo, and I still stand by that. So if you're planning on attacking me, go ahead. It won't change the fact that you need to be talked to about your actions of late."

Isaac glared at her for a moment longer, before his aggression collapsed, and he slumped back against the table. Sighing, he let his head hang back, and he muttered, "I'm sorry that I couldn't protect Cecilia, kupo, and that she got into such a dangerous situation. It was irresponsible of me."

"Isaac," July said, and her tone, exasperated rather than angry, surprised him. "You took better care of her than I could have hoped for, kupo. You made it possible for her to defend herself. I wasn't expecting you to keep her safe from every single threat in the world. She's strong now, and it seems that she has forged strong bonds with the rest of your crew and the others who took part in the prison operation. You did everything right with her, kupo, and I thank you."

"Then what do you mean about me being irresponsible, kupo?" Isaac asked, standing back up a bit.

July shook her head, breathing out sharply through her nose. She stepped into the shack, and advanced a few steps on the gunner, making him back up. He found himself backed into the corner of the wall and the table, and then she was right in front of him, poking a finger into his chest.

"How long has it been since you slept, kupo?"

Isaac licked his lips, looking up at the slightly taller moogle, then swallowed, and said, "Well, I got a few hours last night—"

"When you passed out by the campfire?" the animist asked, cocking her head to the side. "That's not what I'm talking about, kupo. That was maybe an hour of you being almost dead. When was the last time you got eight hours of uninterrupted sleep?"

Isaac hesitated again, clearly not keen on answering. When she gave him another firm prod in the ribs, though, he sighed, and muttered, "Probably since the night before we attacked the palace, kupo. So over a month ago."

July nodded very slowly, her expression not changing. "And you've been fighting in that condition, kupo?"

"…yes."

Silence. The two of them watched each other, both deep in thought. Then, July spoke.

"Why?"

Isaac licked his lips. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. "I'm afraid of dreaming, kupo."

"You're referring to your Third Eye visions?" the animist asked, cocking her head to the side in curiosity. "Why do they frighten you, kupo?"

Isaac was quiet again for a few moment, his entire body tense. Finally, he murmured, "The night after… after Sprohm, I dreamt. I saw the other three kupo, and I knew how they felt. I didn't see Jacqueline, kupo." The moogle hesitated before going on. "I woke up after the dream and threw up."

"So you're not dreaming because you are afraid of not seeing your friend Ben again, kupo?"

"Yeah. That's about it."

July sighed, then backed up, though she kept her eyes on the other moogle. Isaac relaxed slightly as she gave him back his personal space, and he slumped down the wall a bit, leaning against it as he waited for her to speak.

"Have you talked much to anybody about Lini's death, kupo?" she asked, so abruptly that the mog knight actually stumbled a bit in surprise.

"N-not really," Isaac stuttered, eying her curiously. "The only person I really went over it with was Ben, but it wasn't much. Just a couple of minutes, kupo."

"Fine then, kupo," July muttered, leaning back against the opposite wall. "Let's go over that, then. The next time you see Eileen, you can talk to her about Ben."

"How is that supposed to help me? I mean, it's not changing the fact that they're gone. It's not going to dull the pain or anything."

"True, kupo. Talking won't bring either of them back, and it won't dull the pain. It will help you deal with the pain, though." July paused, thinking for a moment, then asked, quietly, "When Carl died, how did you deal with that?"

Isaac eyed July for a moment, not really looking at her. Instead, he was thinking back to the elderly gadgeteer. He remembered the nights the two of them had passed by the campfire, and most importantly the night he had spent alone out in the desert with him. Unconsciously, the mog knight laid his paw across the hilt of the Avuir Blue, even as he replayed the gadgeteer's last moments in his head.

"Lini came and talked to me after we got back to Baguba, kupo," the mog knight said, fingering the weapon carefully. "I think she was worried about me. She wanted to help me get past it. We didn't really talk all that much, I guess. She was just… there, kupo. She was there for me."

"And did it ever occur to you that she came to your room because she needed you?"

Isaac blinked, then glanced at July in confusion. "…What?"

July sighed in annoyance, then muttered, "You know, for such an intelligent and brave moogle, kupo, you're possibly the stupidest person I know, Isaac."

Isaac blinked, stung, but he didn't reply to the jab, instead asking, "What are talking about, kupo?"

"Think about it. When you first met her, it had only been maybe two or three years since her grandfather's death, and about a year and a half since her father's, kupo. Her mother died not long after she was born. So who did she have left, kupo?"

"Carl," Isaac nodded slowly, suddenly catching on.

"Exactly, kupo," July said, her mood brightening noticeably at Isaac's words. "Carl was important to Lini on many levels. In a matter of a few days, she was betrayed by the one person she felt she could trust, and then had to watch him die, kupo. I'm certain that if you hadn't been there, Isaac, she would have lost herself after that."

Isaac stared at her for a few very long moments, not answering. Then, finally, he asked, "Why me?"

"You don't back down, you take stupid risks, and you care too much, kupo. You're brave, Isaac. For her entire life, Lini was surrounded by great warriors who were flawed and often broken. You, on the other hand, embodied everything that a hero _should_ be, even though you had none of the skill, kupo. You stopped her from killing Carl, which would have destroyed her, and after he had died, she needed you to hang onto."

"That's stupid, though," Isaac said, shaking his head at July. His breathing was getting heavy, and his good paw was flexing its fingers against the wall. "She was strong enough. She didn't need me, kupo. I'm the weak one. She would have been fine without me there."

"You saved her, Isaac. If it weren't for you she would've die—"

Isaac lunged forward suddenly, as his face went from confused to angry. With his good paw, he grabbed the front of July's shirt, and lifted her clean off of the ground, glaring at her as he yelled. "She _is_ dead, July! She died, and I couldn't protect her! I couldn't protect her, or Thomas, or Ben, or Jacqueline! I can't protect them, kupo! What am I supposed to do?"

July met his glare, not even flinching at his sudden movement. "After the Sprohm Incident, Lini spent every day looking for you, kupo. She didn't stop. I only managed to track you down with Cecilia because of her, kupo. She probably would have come and seen you earlier if she hadn't been too busy with Clan Nutsy."

Isaac panted, staring up at July. He was beginning to shake, and his eyes were wide. Slowly, he lowered the animist, then stepped back after he had set her down. He leaned back against the wall again, still shaking. "She's the strong one, kupo."

"And she was the strong one because of you, kupo," July replied. "You might not have been able to save her from Llednar, Isaac, but you're the reason she was alive for the past three years."

Slowly, Isaac's back slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground. He leaned down, and rubbed his face with both of his paws. He sat there, slumped forward, for a good while without looking up. July didn't press him. Instead, she smoothed the wrinkle his paw had left out of her shirt.

"I'm not strong enough for this," Isaac finally said, not moving yet. "I can't keep losing them, kupo. I can't keep going if I know I can't protect them."

"That's fair, kupo," July nodded, crouching down so that she was at Isaac's level. "However, I know that my sister and four other young people are still alive because of the training you gave them and the things you told them."

Isaac sighed, then tilted his head back, glancing up at her. He shook his head, and muttered, "Fine, but that isn't going to help me sleep, kupo."

"No," July nodded, standing up. She pulled something from her pocket, and then said, "But this will, kupo."

Isaac looked up in confusion. He saw a glint of silver in her paw, and suddenly soft music filled his ears. His eyes widened, and he identified the flute pressed to July's lips. She played calmly and slowly, the music growing in force but never becoming overpowering. As the music continued, Isaac felt his eyelids growing heavy, and everything slowed down around him. He could feel his muscles relaxing, and his mind becoming sluggish.

As Isaac's body slumped down, his eyes shut, and July pulled the flute from her lips. She watched him for a moment, making sure he was asleep. Then, she whispered, "Sleep, Isaac. Dream of your friends, kupo. Especially the dragoon."

The animist turned away from the sleeping moogle, and walked out of the shack.


	108. Dream

_He could drown himself in the sky. That was the important thing about it. If he wanted to, he could just step off of the edge and fall for eternity. He would probably be dead before he even hit the ground. As he approached the clouds, it would look like he would just bounce off of their soft surfaces, the fluff massaging his skin, freezing from the speed of his fall. But there would be no bounce; just cool, wet mist, parting and letting him slip through. He blinked as the rocking of the ship made it creak heavily beneath him. No, there was no way to escape by going down. Only staying up; up in the air, completely cut off from the world. That way, he could survive. The earth spurned him; if he had his choice, he would never touch—_

_He sat back, keeping his eyes shut and breathing heavily through his noise so as not to show his annoyance. Well, not to show it too much, at least. He had known from the beginning that the Prison was a bad idea. True, it managed to snap up the small bits of resistance that sprung up here and there, and it limited the rebellion's fighting abilities. Despite all that, though, he'd known all along that once there was a breakout, and there _would_ be a breakout, it would unify that fighting force against the palace in a way that would have otherwise been impossible._

_And now, Khorin was dead, and the Queen wanted him to take up the mantle of the general of the palace's forces. He didn't need that kind of responsibility; all he was supposed to be doing was ending the Ultima lines. From the beginning, that had been his main objective. If he had to direct the armies, then that would mean…_

_His eyes opened wide for a moment as something seemed to go off in his mind. That was it… that was the signal that the Queen had told him about. So… he was there…_

"_Leave me," he said, gesturing towards the three captain that were assembled in his room. They glanced up in surprise, and he went on. "I am not to be disturbed for the rest of the evening. Leave now."_

_Without question, the trio filed out of his room, leaving him alone. He nodded a bit, and then leaned back in his chair, placing his feet up on his fine desk._

"_I know you're here, Isaac," he said, licking his lips a bit. "I guess you don't really know that you're here right now, or that you even _are_ you, but I know. Remedi… she knows all about dreams. She's given me protection from your Eye. That said, I think I might try using it for myself."_

_He fell silent for a moment, and glanced around his finely furnished room, taking in the beautiful furnishings, and the elaborate weapon rack that stood against the wall. His eyes fell on the full moon, shining in through the tall, arching windows. A small smirk crossed his face, and he chuckled._

"_Full moon, Isaac. Must make a mogknight comfortable, eh?" He paused, and then shook his head. "Alright, I know that you're listening, but it's awkward just talking to myself. Besides, Eileen ought to hear what I want to say, too. So, let's move along to her, shall we? How do I move you onto the next dream… ah, right… something important…" He searched around for a moment, and then his eyes settled on a small patch lying on his desk. It was red, with a white phoenix at the centre. The badge of a general of the palace._

_Sighing a bit, he reached down and touch—_

_And then, suddenly, Isaac became aware of himself. It was odd, and extremely disorienting. Normally, when he dreamed, he didn't even think as himself. He became whoever he was seeing, and he wasn't even aware of his own presence. But now… he could feel his own mind, his own thoughts, his own emotions. They were flooding in all around him, filling him and slowly driving out that other entity that had been occupying his psyche for a moment… who had it been… Maxwell?_

_Suddenly, he felt that alternate side of himself, the one currently being controlled by Maxwell, rearing up and pushing back. For a moment, Isaac didn't understand what was happening, or why. As the pressure increased on his psyche, though, he instinctively pushed against the other force. Somehow, he knew that if he didn't hold some ground, he would be drowned under the force of Maxwell's identity._

_For what felt like an eternity, everything was a confusion of thoughts and emotions, flashing through Isaac's mind as he and Maxwell battled for purchase. He kept flashing between their two minds, one moment thinking normally, the next his thought process becoming Maxwell's. _

_And then, as suddenly as the struggle for control began, it ended. For one instant, the pressure seemed to increase a thousand fold, as a third presence began flooding into their split thoughts. The next, both of them felt a sudden release, and an odd sensation of being thrown back, away from each other._

_Isaac found himself lying on his back, his chest heaving as he tried to take stock of himself. For a few moments, he didn't move, just staring up at the… ceiling? No, it wasn't a ceiling… it just looked like white nothingness. Everywhere he looked, he saw white, going on for eternity._

_The moogle sighed a bit, then reached up to rub his forehead with his good paw. Well, he finally fell asleep, and now it seemed that he was lost in limbo. How wonderful._

_Knowing that he would have to do it eventually, Isaac sat up, then came up into a crouching position, glancing around. All around, the white eternity continued, even beneath him. The moogle couldn't even tell what he was standing on._

_The only things that he could actually see were two forms, a few feet away from him. As he watched, both of them stirred, and with a start, he realised that they were Maxwell and Eileen. Both of them slowly sat up, looking just as confused as Isaac felt._

"_Well, I don't know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn't it," Maxwell muttered, brushing himself off slightly._

_Isaac and Eileen both turned to stare at the bangaa, caught by surprise by his casual tone. It was Eileen who asked, "Where are we?"_

"_If I'm right, then we're in _your_ brain," he said, nodding to Eileen, drawing more confused looks from her and Isaac. "It's somewhat complicated to explain."_

"_Try," Isaac ordered, speaking for the first time. Maxwell glanced over at him, and both of them paused, staring at each other for a few long moments. Isaac wasn't completely sure how he felt at that moment, but it certainly wasn't a good feeling._

_Finally, both of them looked away from each other, and Maxwell spoke. "Your Third Eye ability; it manifests itself in dreams. The Queen… she knew about that. So, she gave me the ability to notice when I'm being watched, and the power to block it."_

"_How?" Eileen asked, standing up to her feet and regarding Maxwell curiously. "It shouldn't be possible for her to do that. Isaac uses a Third Eye ability; you can't just block that with conventional magic."_

"_Queen Remedi doesn't use conventional magic," Maxwell replied, licking his lips a bit. "Her power… it almost seems to come from dreams. She can take dreams and make them reality. It's amazing. The things I've watched her do—"_

"_Aren't human," Eileen interrupted him, clearly catching him off guard. "She can block a full charge of Ultima _and _counter Third Eye powers? What other tricks does she have up her sleeve?"_

"_If you can imagine it, she can do it. I've seen it."_

"_What do you want, kupo?" Isaac demanded, drawing the attention of the other two. He hadn't dropped his aggressive stance yet, and his paw was clearly twitching towards a hilt that wasn't there. "Why are we here?"_

_Maxwell regarded him for a long moment, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. When he finally spoke, his words were slow and well-measured, showing the level of thought he was putting into it. "I thought that I could use the power that the Queen gave me to hitch along with your spirit to your next dream. And I figured that the only other person you would dream of at this point would be her, because…" He stopped, his face growing shadows, and didn't go on._

_Isaac and Eileen both watched the tall bangaa as he stood there, none of them speaking. Some small, dark part of Isaac's mind wanted to scorn Maxwell; to force him to say why the moogle would only be dreaming of two of his friends. He couldn't muster the strength to do it, though. In his mind, he could still feel the agonising guilt throbbing in his chest, barely kept in check whenever he thought about what had happened in Sprohm._

_Finally, Maxwell spoke, his voice back under control. "The war can't go on much longer. Anybody that's paying attention can see it. The rebellion doesn't have any more resources to tap, and the palace is beginning to run dry. So long as the winter is hard enough, any major confrontation should be held off until the spring, but that's the most time we can hope for. After the melt, things will come to a head."_

_Eileen nodded, even though Isaac blinked in surprise. As he thought about it, though, he knew Maxwell to be right. It must have been his exhaustion that had kept him from realising it before. It seemed that all the cards were out on the table, now. The only thing left to do was to have that final showdown, where everything would be decided…_

"_All three of us know how such a confrontation will end," Maxwell went on, drawing Isaac's attention back. "As it stands, the Palace outnumbers the rebellion several times over; we have more stocks for the winter, and better access to infrastructure. That said, the rebellion will never go down easily. If both sides met in an all-out confrontation, then the number of casualties would be catastrophic. The Palace would likely win, but it would come at a heavy toll."_

"_So what are you proposing?" Eileen asked, her face guarded. "You wouldn't go through the trouble of meeting with both of us just to tell us what we already know."_

"_I don't want to see such a battle take place," Maxwell said, his body becoming tenser. "I've seen enough death. I don't want to participate in more, though if I'm forced, I will. So, I'm proposing a different idea."_

"_And that would be, kupo?" Isaac asked, though he was beginning to have an idea of what the bangaa was proposing._

"_Eileen," the bangaa said, turning to the nu mou. "Can you tell me about the history of Sienna Gorge?"_

"_Of course," Eileen said, glancing at Maxwell curiously. "It's a natural canyon made entirely of amber that acts as a barrier between Ambervale and the rest of Ivalice. The old kings and queens used to use it as their last line of defence should anybody attack."_

"_And what happened there three hundred and fifty years ago?"_

_Eileen thought for a moment, then said, "The Green Revolution. A group of viera rebels tried to launch an attack against the palace, basing themselves out of the Sienna Gorge. Once he found out about it, the king of the time sent out the Ultima Five, who were in his service at that time, to—" Eileen's eyes widened and her voice choked off, and she glanced up at Maxwell. "Wait a minute. You can't possible mean to—?"_

"_The king sent the Ultima Five to stop the revolution before it happened," Maxwell went on, ignoring Eileen's outcry. "The leader of the Ultimates at that point, Jeanette of the viera, arrogantly decided to lead a full-frontal assault. The Ultimates' lack of preparation and afore-knowledge of their enemies resulted in the death of all of them, but for a young bangaa gladiator named Charlotte."_

_The bangaa fell silent, leaving Isaac and Eileen with the clear implication. The blood of the Ultimates of four races stained that ground; if a bangaa Ultimate were to die there, it would mean the end._

"_When do you want to meet there?" Isaac asked, finally, "and what are the rules, kupo?"_

"_Just you and me," Maxwell said, licking his lips and glancing to Eileen. "There's no need for all three of us to be involved. Just the two of us, one fight, no back up. Whoever… whoever loses… well, their side has as good as lost the war, hasn't it?"_

"_No," Eileen said, glaring at the pair of them. "I won't let you do this. It's stupid; you're talking about your lives as if it's some sort of a game!"_

"_We're talking about our lives as what they are," Maxwell replied, and Isaac nodded somewhat, understanding the bangaa's implication. "Pawns; individuals of small power whose sacrifice can mean the swifter end of the conflict. If I die, then the prophecy will be fulfilled, and Isaac is off the hook. If Isaac dies, then I take the Materia Blade, and the line of moogle Ultimates is finished."_

"_And how about me?" Eileen demanded, glaring at both of them in turn. "What if I just so happen to master Ultima within the next few weeks? Will you be willing to put me up for barter?"_

"_If you master Ultima before I can get the Zeus Mace away from you, then I'll do what's necessary to prevent you from fulfilling the prophecy," Maxwell said, his eyes set as he stared at Eileen. Even as he said it, though, both Isaac and Eileen noticed the slight twitch in his forehead, and how his arms seemed to be shaking._

"_When do we meet, kupo?" Isaac asked quietly, trying to diffuse the situation as best as he could. He didn't know whether or not Eileen and Maxwell could actually fight and hurt each other in a dream, but he didn't want to find out._

"_It's a full moon tonight," Maxwell said, looking back to the moogle. "Your mog knight abilities are strongest beneath a full moon. It seems unfair for us to fight under normal conditions, seeing as I have my powers that the Queen granted me. So, we'll meet in Sienna Gorge on the night of the next full moon. Only the three of us can attend."_

_Isaac seemed to mull it over in his head for a moment. Then, he sighed, and muttered, "I wish you would just see reason, kupo. Come back to the rebellion."_

"_I'm only doing what's best for this world _and_ our friends!" Maxwell growled, his temper sparked. "I won't allow you to destroy an entire world, especially when the Queen can bring back Ben and Jacqueline!"_

"_At the price of Isaac's life?" Eileen demanded._

"_She can bring him back, too! She can bring all of us back from the dead, and make it so that we don't know Ultima so that we can rid ourselves of this terrible power! Don't you understand that what I'm doing is for all of us!?"_

"_And can't you see that the dead can't be brought back, kupo!?" Isaac yelled, drawing himself up. "Besides, if you weren't working for the Queen, then maybe Lini and Ben wouldn't be—"_

_Max twitched, and yelled back at him, "Well that's rich, coming from the one that stabbed Jacqueline!"_

"_I didn't want to!"_

"_Do you think I wanted to run Ben through to save your hide?"_

"_Then why did you!?"_

"_Because I… I just moved…"_

"_Shut up!" Eileen roared, silencing both of them abruptly. They both took surprised steps back at the intensity of her voice, and she glared at both of them in turn. "I won't stand here and watch while the two of you play the blame game and dance around the topic of fighting to the death. The two of you aren't the only ones with a say in all this; I'm tied in with the prophecy, too, so my vote counts."_

"_Eileen." Isaac's body was still shaking with pent up aggression from his short exchange with Maxwell. The two of them were clearly still on edge, though Eileen's outburst had lessened each of their rage a bit. The moogle swallowed, then went on, "It's my life, kupo. If it can end this fighting, then—"_

_He stopped abruptly, as a surprised look crossed his face. Both Eileen and Maxwell stared at him in curiosity, wondering why he had stopped._

_Suddenly, a spasm rocked his body, and his eyes widened as his form seemed to shimmer a bit in the dream. He fell to his knees, and panted, his entire body shaking._

"_What's going on?" Eileen demanded, glancing from Isaac to Maxwell._

"_Something must be pulling him out of the dream in the real world…" Maxwell murmured, staring at the moogle as his body grew less and less defined._

_Isaac seemed completely unaware of all of this conversation, completely taken up by the odd sensations going through his body. Everywhere, he could feel his skin tingling, shifting regularly between the odd senselessness of the dream world, and then rushes of rough contact against his skin in the real world. It was too much for him._

"_Eileen, nothing small would pull him out of a Third Eye dream. You have to get to him, as soon as you wake up."_

"_How do I wake up?"_

"_His Third Eye is fuelling this dream. As soon as he's gone, the dream should end."_

"_Alright." Eileen glanced over to the rapidly fading Isaac, and said, her voice clear and steady, "Isaac, you have to hold out until I get to you. Buy me a bit of time, and I'll be there to help you. Can you hear me?"_

_Isaac meant to respond, but at that moment, he felt something in the real world come down and touch—_

No, not touch. Smash. A fist. It smashed into his face, crushing his nose, and sending stars across his vision as he awoke. And in that moment, as he lay there, stunned and trying to blink away sleep, he heard a voice hiss, "_Halten Sie!_"

And then everything stopped.


	109. Sacrifice

Everything froze up for a second; Isaac couldn't move, couldn't blink, couldn't even breathe. All about him, the world was locked in suspended animation. The stinging in his face remained constant, and the spots of bright light covering his vision stayed in place, making it all the harder to see into the shadows that filled the small hut. Isaac felt confusion and fear welling up inside of him, completely unsure of what was going on. He knew he'd been hit by a Stop spell, at least. Beyond that, though, all he knew was that he was under attack.

An instant later, though, with a start, Isaac could move again, and he found himself lying on the earth in a completely different position, hot pain radiating from all up his side. He instantly realised that he was outside, and that the high, doming roof of Jagd Helje was above him. He tried to kick himself up to his feet, but suddenly a large hand slammed onto his chest, crushing him down against the ground again.

The moogle squirmed, trying to reach up and claw at his captor. However, he quickly saw that his paws were bound, and they were tied in such a way that it restricted much of his movement. He opened his mouth to cry out, but he quickly identified the rough feel of a gag against his tongue, the acrid taste of dirty cloth making him gag.

He writhed there for a few moments longer, but it didn't help him. Whoever held him had him pinned. Finally, he looked up, trying to get a view of his captors.

His eyes instantly identified the muscled form of a bangaa, wearing the blue robes and shining armour of a templar. It was he who was pinning Isaac, his arm flexing as it held the struggling moogle down. Isaac quickly recognized the bangaa as one of the higher ranking members of the Red Dragons, though his name escaped him at the moment. He glanced past the templar, and that's when he noticed something that caught and held his attention.

The bangaa was holding a long and sharp knightsword, shining softly in the pale green glow of the jagd.

Isaac stopped moving as he stared at it, suddenly understanding. His breathing was heavy, but beyond that, he was completely motionless as the bangaa nodded slightly.

"No sssspecial ccceremony or anything?" the bangaa asked, glancing over his shoulder. "We jusssst have to sssspill the Ultimate'ssss lifeblood?"

"Precisely," a voice replied, drawing Isaac's attention. He caught sight of another figure; a nu mou in the pale blue robes of a Time mage. Seeing this particular nu mou only further solidified what he'd already realised. This was the mage that had wanted him to be sacrificed after he found out about the prophecy. The mage didn't even look at him as he went on. "I checked on all of the events. One Ultimate from each of the other races has died here. This one should do it."

"Alright," the bangaa nodded, then turned down to look at Isaac again. He caught the moogle's eyes, and licked his lips uncomfortably. Then, he inclined his head slightly. "I'm ssssorry about thissss. It'ssss the only way to end thissss."

Isaac's eyes widened, and he stared at the knightsword as it descended.

Suddenly, something white streaked in from the corner of Isaac's vision, and slammed into the bangaa from the side. The bangaa, caught completely by surprise, was knocked off of Isaac, freeing the moogle as the heavy warrior rolled away.

The bangaa hit the ground, but even as he did so, his instincts kicked in. He tucked, and rolled up to his feet, spinning to face the direction the attack had come from. His knightsword was already striking out as he came around, and it rang off of the length of a blade. The blade then twirled and came forward in a quick attack routine, the moogle holding it advancing steadily on the still surprised templar.

Isaac stared for a moment in shock as Foobar engaged the bangaa, beating him back and away from the other moogle. He was too surprised to even act until he saw the nu mou, standing a few feet away, beginning to wave his arms and taking a deep breath.

Reacting quickly, Isaac threw himself at the mage, hitting him straight in the chest with a full on tackle. The nu mou gasped in surprised as the breath was knocked out of him, and he stumbled back, falling heavily with the moogle on top of him. Isaac, knowing that he couldn't let the spellcaster have any time to speak, swung his bound paws together and down, smashing them into the nu mou's face.

Foobar, for his part, was too busy exchanging blows with the bangaa to notice Isaac and the mage's fight. After the surprise had worn off, the templar had settled back into a more relaxed stance, and now the moogle's momentum had come to a complete stop. The knightsword cut swift and direct lines at Foobar, and it was all the mog knight could do to raise his blade and his shield to block them in time.

He managed to intercept one blow with his blade, and seeing his chance, he punched across with his shield, slamming it into the base of the knightsword. The strike knocked the bangaa's weapon out far to the side, giving Foobar a chance to swipe at the bangaa's exposed face.

The templar, seeing his predicament, twirled, throwing himself so hard into the movement that it took him one step back and out of the moogle's range. He came to a stop, a step away from the moogle, and panted, watching his opponent.

The two stood there uneasily for a moment, sizing each other up. Then, Foobar spoke.

"I've already alerted the rest of my crew to what's going on, kupo," the mog knight panted, keeping his blade and shield up just in case. "It won't take them too long to get here."

"You're one of the mechanicsss from the _Fallen Sssstar II_, no?" the bangaa eyed him curiously. "Looking after your own?"

"That's the plan," Foobar muttered. "I have reinforcements coming, kupo. Will you give up?"

"I'm doing thissss to ssssave the livessss of my men," the bangaa hissed. "I will usssse thisss chancccce."

Foobar nodded, and then the bangaa rushed at him.

As the two of them met again, Isaac was still doing his best to keep the mage from casting any spells. His arms were beginning to grow weary from swinging awkwardly so many times, and cramps were starting to erupt all along the length of his body. Several large bruises and welts were already beginning to rise on the nu mou's face, and the mage was now trying to claw at the moogle to keep him off.

Isaac bit back a grunt as the nu mou's nails dug into his skin, tearing off shallow tracks of fur. He swept his bound paws across in front of himself, knocking the mage's hands away. He then snapped his forehead down, smashing it into the nu mou's face. Pain blossomed from the point of contact, but he grinned with satisfaction as the spellcaster's head smashed back against the stone beneath, stunning him for an instant.

The moogle seized his chance, lifting his bound paws up to his mouth. He bit onto the tough rope holding his wrists, and then gave a hard tug with his right arm. He felt the pressure at the edge of his feeling, just below his elbow, but none of the pain as he yanked on the limb, trying to pull it through the ropes. If he could just get his paw free, he would be able to hold the nu mou off easily. He just needed enough time…

With a jolt, his paw slipped through the bonds, and a spark of hope went through the moogle. The skin on his ruined paw looked torn and scraped up in places, but the moogle ignored that, instead bringing his good paw down to smash the nu mou in the face again. Then, Isaac brought his bad arm down, pressing his forearm down against the nu mou's throat as hard as he could. The nu mou struggled beneath him, squirming and trying to claw at the arm and get a breath. Isaac, for his part, kept in position, and watched, giving the nu mou an occasional small breath whenever he needed one. He didn't want to kill the spellcaster. No, not that. He just had to keep him from casting a spell. The nu mou's fingernails tore at his skin, but the lack of feeling in the limb kept him from feeling any of it. So long as he held the mage off, they had a chance.

Foobar found himself giving ground before the mighty bangaa, stumbling as he brought his blade up to deflect blow after crushing blow. Sure, Foobar was quite a good warrior. He had been fighting pirates in the skies for close to six years, and he hadn't learnt nothing during that time. However, this bangaa was different; probably one of those warriors from the bangaa tribes that trained in combat for most of their lives. The difference between them in strength and skill was simply too much for the moogle to keep up with.

He jumped sideways as the knightsword came down, just nicking his sleeve as he tugged his arm in. His blade jumped forward, in the hopes that he might score a hit while the bangaa was off-balance.

The bangaa, seeing the strike coming at his exposed side, growled, and a look of intense concentration crossed his face. Suddenly, just as Foobar's blade was about to bite into the scales of the bangaa's torso, the muscles all along that part of his body tensed up, bulging and pressing out to meet the blade.

The weapon sliced at the scales, and Foobar was shocked at the amount of resistance he felt. His blade should have sliced through with little or no trouble at all; as it was, it felt as though he were trying to chop at the trunk of a tree. The blade bit in, barely going in a half of an inch, and drew a long line across the bangaa's side. That was it, though, and Foobar was forced to jump back as the bangaa regained his balance, bringing his blade up and around at him.

Foobar stumbled back, the surprise of what had just happened still too much for him. There was no way… how had he done that? Not really thinking of the movement, the moogle raised his blade in a block of the bangaa's knightsword.

As the two weapons met, though, the bangaa twirled his wrist quickly, forcing Foobar to move his own paw in an uncomfortable pattern. The bangaa continued the motion, then suddenly cut his hand to the side, wrenching the blade from Foobar's grip and sending it skittering across the ground.

Foobar backed up, yelping and pulling his stinging wrist close to his body. He'd never seen a templar do something like that, before! Unarmed now, Foobar backed up from the bangaa, holding his shield up as his last line of defence.

"I guesssss you didn't sssussspect that I'd had training assss a defender, did you?" the bangaa hissed, and Foobar's eyes widened in realisation. Both of those manoeuvres were essential parts of any defender's repertoire.

"My mistake," the moogle replied, trying to keep his cool even though, on the inside, he was panicking. "I won't make it again, kupo."

"Will you yield? All you have left issss that shield."

"This fight isn't over quite yet, kupo," the moogle growled. Even as he said it, he took a quick step forward, raising the shield, and then whipping his empty paw forward. A shaft of moonlight burst from it, crossing the distance between the two of them and coming in at the bangaa in the shape of a blade.

The bangaa was caught off-guard by the sudden ranged attack, and he had to pull himself to the side in a tight spin to prevent it from landing. As he came around, he saw the moogle, still unarmed, charging at him, hoping to use his shield for a bull rush against the unbalanced bangaa.

Far faster than Foobar anticipated, though, the bangaa crouched down, assuming a perfect, wide-footed stance. Knowing that he couldn't stop his momentum now, Foobar gritted his teeth, then lowered his head and finished the charge, trying to deliver as much strength as he could into the blow.

The bangaa, though, took the hit squarely. His rear foot slipped back for an instant, but it quickly found purchase, and the sudden halt in momentum knocked Foobar completely off-balance.

Not even bothering with his sword, the bangaa brought his shoulder down and forward, smashing it into the shield. The blow toppled the moogle's already precarious balance, and Foobar fell back, landing heavily and getting his shield caught under him.

Before the moogle could get back up, the bangaa lunged forward, and clamped a massive hand around his neck. He lifted Foobar bodily up, and then pulled him along until he reached the wall of one of the huts lining the street. He slammed him into the worn stones, and then brought his blade up so that it pressed against the moogle's throat.

With that, the bangaa looked over his shoulder, and said sharply, "You have ten ssssecondssss to get off of my companion, and then I open him."

Isaac looked up at the words, surprised. He froze when he saw the bangaa, though, holding Foobar against the wall. Knowing that the bangaa was far from bluffing, the moogle quickly detangled himself from the nu mou, lifting his arm away from his throat. The nu mou gasped, getting a full breath of fresh air, and lay there panting.

Isaac managed to push himself up to his feet, and then turned to face the bangaa. Foobar was glaring at the templar, his limbs held out awkwardly to the side by the hand holding him. He was far from panicking; no, he seemed totally comfortable with the situation as he kept watching the bangaa.

Isaac took a deep breath, then said, "Fine, then, kupo. I—"

Suddenly, something slammed into the side of Isaac's head, and pain erupted from all up the side of his face as the moogle was sent sprawling sideways. Caught off-guard as he was, he stumbled and fell to the ground. He lay there, his cheek stinging and the rest of his body tense with confusion. He rolled over onto his back, and suddenly the nu mou was overtop of him, and he was pressing a foot onto his chest. Isaac wheezed as his breath was forced from his lungs, and he stared up at the nu mou as the spellcaster hefted his staff menacingly.

"You're lucky we have to end this quickly, moogle, or else I would have beaten you to death where you lay," the nu mou growled, and Isaac noticed a couple of missing teeth in the nu mou's mouth as he spoke.

"Control yoursssself!" the bangaa's voice ordered, and the nu mou glanced over his shoulder to the warrior. "Bind his wrists again, and show him resssspect. We're assssking him to give hissss life; beating him sssseemssss like ssssmall thanksss for that."

The nu mou looked about ready to argue, but the bangaa spoke again, silencing him.

"The mog knight ssssaid that the ressst of hissss crew wasssss coming. We have to do thissss quickly. No arguing."

With a nod, the nu mou lifted his foot from Isaac's chest. Isaac sucked in huge gulps of air, not even bothering to resist as the nu mou rolled him over and quickly bound his wrists. The nu mou hauled him up to his feet, and Isaac swayed there, still unsteady from all of the events that were happening. The bangaa had turned back to look at Foobar, and now he addressed him.

"If you sssswear never to tell anybody of what hasss happened here, we will let you leave."

"I refuse," Foobar replied evenly.

"You don't sssseem to underssstand, moogle. I'm not asssking you to sssswear. I'm telling you to sssswear ssso that my hand won't be forced."

"So that your hand won't be forced to draw blood, kupo?" the moogle spat, still glaring. "You don't seem to have any trouble when it comes to Isaac."

"I don't _want_ to hurt him," the bangaa shot back, his voice a hiss. "However, to end thisss war fasssster and to ssssave my men, I musssst."

"You're willing to kill one moogle for your men's lives. What's another?"

"Foobar," Isaac called, his voice rough. Neither the moogle nor the bangaa turned to look at him, but he went on. "Don't be stupid, kupo. He's right, he's just trying to help. Don't drag yourself into it!"

"You're the _Ultimate_ of my people!" Foobar replied, still not taking his eyes off of the bangaa. "Not to mention, you're still a member of my crew. I'm not dragging myself into anything, kupo."

The bangaa was quiet as he sized up the stubborn moogle for a few short moments. Then, he murmured, "You throw your life away sssso willingly. Don't you have anything worth living for?"

Foobar's tough exterior disappeared at those words, and he paused for a good few seconds before he replied. When he did speak, his voice was shaking.

"I want to live, kupo. I love the sky, and my crew, and my friends, and I don't want to leave them. I want my father to know that I'm a strong mog knight, and that I wasn't useless, kupo." The moogle swallowed, then set his jaw, and said, "But I don't want to live knowing I could have saved a friend."

All four of them were quiet for some time after that. Then, the bangaa drew his blade back from Foobar's throat.

"You are a great mog knight," the bangaa murmured, then closed his eyes, "and I'm sssssorry."

The bangaa's hand jerked forward. Every muscle in Foobar's body tensed, and then relaxed at once as he slumped in the bangaa's grip. Isaac stared, speechless, as the bangaa stood there without moving, still holding the moogle impaled on his blade. Then, he drew it out, placed the mog knight's body on the ground, and turned to Isaac, his blade still dripping.

"His attachment tells me much of you," the bangaa began.

"Shut up, kupo."

"I know you are a good perssssson."

"Shut up, kupo!"

"I don't want to do thissss."

"Then why the hell are you!?" Isaac yelled. His body was shaking, but he couldn't feel it. His eyes were locked on Foobar's body as he spoke to the bangaa. It felt like a heavy mist was shrouding everything around him as he spoke, making his voice echo back at him. "Why did you—he didn't—I… he just wanted to protect me, kupo!"

"I didn't want to!" the bangaa yelled back, his calm demeanor slipping for a moment at the moogle's words. He paced quickly towards Isaac, still speaking, "I had no choicccce! I can either kill you, or watch thoussssandssss of othersssss fall in needlesssss combat. What would you have me do?"

"Kill me!" Isaac yelled back, his voice becoming more and more raw by the moment. "If you need to so badly, kill me, save those people, I understand, kupo! But why _him_? He's a good person! Why did he have to die?"

"I had no choiccce," the bangaa said, though his voice sounded less sure than before. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then raised his blade. Isaac felt the nu mou behind him hold him tighter, and the bangaa placed the tip of his weapon against Isaac's chest. "I'm ssssorry."

And then, a look of confusion crossed the bangaa's face. He blinked a bit, looking closely at Isaac, but seeming to peer through and look at something beyond him. Isaac stared up at him, somewhat curious as to what was happening, but he seemed to be seeing everything through a dull haze.

The bangaa suddenly jumped back, crying out and batting at his arm. He rocked back and forth, and then began slapping at his clothing in many different spots. He roared in pain, and managed to gasp out, "The fire!"

Behind Isaac, the nu mou seemed to be just as confused as he watched the bangaa. Then, suddenly, the nu mou gasped, and pulled Isaac closer.

"Show yourself, illusionist!" the nu mou yelled, staring around the empty street. He got no answer, though, and the bangaa kept roaring in pain, falling now to the ground and rolling to try and extinguish the flames.

Getting no response, the nu mou growled, and then pointed to himself. He took a deep breath, then said, "_Schne—_"

A sharp crack rang out, and suddenly the nu mou took a step back, crying out in surprise and pain in the middle of his spell. Even as his voice came out, though, it seemed to grow thin, and die quite abruptly. The nu mou blinked, and tried to speak, but no sound would escape him.

The nu mou tugged Isaac back, clearly meaning to make an escape with the hostage moogle. The mog knight, however, had other plans, and he quickly leaned forward, trying to pull away from the nu mou as hard as he could.

Suddenly, the nu mou gave Isaac a shove, and the moogle tumbled forward to the ground in surprise. He spun around, his arms still bound behind his back, and stared as the mage reached into his robe, withdrawing a long knife. One look at the spellcaster's eyes confirmed everything Isaac needed to know, and he started kicking his feet against the dirt, trying to push himself away as the nu mou advanced on him.

Then, the nu mou stopped moving abruptly, and his eyes widened. Isaac stared at him in surprise for a moment, the cries of the pained bangaa ringing in his ears. His eyes were drawn down suddenly to the nu mou's stomach, and to his shock, he saw a red splotch slowly growing outward from a small point sticking out of his robes. The nu mou mouthed a bit, but no voice escaped his lips. Then, he shuddered, and slipped forward, crashing to the ground.

As he hit the ground, Tifone bent forward, and wiped the blood on her rapier off onto his robes. She stared down at the nu mou, then spat on his body, saying with a growl, "Your filthy blood won't stain my clothes."

"Tifone…" Isaac stuttered, terrified and confused.

The viera glanced up at Isaac, and the moogle saw that she was shaking. He'd never seen the normally flirtatious and jolly fencer so on edge in all of his days on the ship. He was about to speak, when suddenly, the bangaa's screams stopped abruptly from behind Isaac.

Tifone looked up, and Isaac turned to see what had happened. His eyes widened as he saw Rolf standing over the bangaa, his blade stabbed into the templar's chest. The captain pulled his weapon back out quickly, sending a scatter of blood across the street with the force of the action. He slammed his weapon back into its sheath, and then turned to Isaac.

"Did they hurt you?"

"No, kupo…" Isaac said, still unsteady and shocked. "What are you—?"

"Not now," Rolf cut him off, and the way in which he did made Isaac shudder. The captain turned, and looked across the street. Isaac followed his gaze, and he found Eugene bending over Foobar. The White mage must have snuck over to him while the other two finished off their targets.

Rolf waited a moment, watching the mage as he ran his hands along the moogle's body, a bit of white light lining his palms. Then, the captain said, "Eugene?"

Eugene stopped his movements abruptly. Even as his hands came to a halt and the light extinguished, though, the rest of his form began shivering, the movement clear even through his heavy robes. His grip tightened on the moogle's torn shirt, and then the White mage said, his voice shaking, "Gone."

All was silent. Nobody moved until they heard fast footsteps coming from down the road. All of them turned to look as Clay ran up, his expended gun still in his paw. His face was anxious and ridden with fear. As soon as he reached them, he glanced at each of them expectantly, and his face fell slightly as he looked at each of them. Finally, he let his gaze go to Foobar's body, and the gun slipped from his paw. The gunner stared, clearly processing the information. Then, his legs seemed to give out beneath him. He collapsed into a sitting position, staring at the moogle, and then didn't move.

The four of them stood there for some time after that, keeping a silent and not agreed-upon vigil for the mog knight. Perhaps a minute into it, another pair of feet approached, but nobody looked up as Eileen ran down the street, completely out of breath. She glanced around quickly, and her eyes quickly picked out the body. Realising what had happened, she didn't speak; instead, she stood back, allowing the others their time.

Finally, Rolf spoke.

"Isaac, it isn't safe for you here anymore." The captain's voice was dull, and he wasn't looking at Isaac as he spoke. "They're going to want to blame somebody for this, and odds are that these two's respective groups will aim it at you. Not to mention, after how close this attempt came, others will be emboldened to try and assassinate you. You have to get out tonight."

Isaac nodded a bit, though his head felt like it was weighted with lead. All of his movements felt slow as he pushed himself up to his feet. He staggered a bit on his feet, and almost fell to the ground. Just as he was slipping, though, Eileen stepped up beside him silently, taking his shoulders and helping him up. Isaac nodded to her, then glanced back to Rolf.

"Grab your travelling packs, and don't talk to anybody," the captain instructed, his eyes narrowing as he thought. "Once you have what you need, get out through the passages. Once you get to the surface, _the Fallen Star II _is hidden a mile north of here. The lifeboat is fully fuelled. Take it, and use it to get as far away from here as you can."

"What about you, kupo?"

"We'll deal with the aftermath here," Rolf said, glancing to Foobar. He fell silent, staring at the moogle, and Eugene still shaking as he bent over him. Finally, he spoke again. "We'll find some sort of way to get in touch with you. For now, though, get out of here."

Isaac nodded, still feeling unsteady on his feet. He glanced to Eileen, and whispered, "You should stay here. It's safer."

"No," Eileen replied, and she helped him stand a bit straighter. "We aren't doing things alone anymore, remember?"

Realising it would be pointless to argue, and not having the will or the energy to do so anyways, he nodded. Instead, he glanced to the captain, then asked, hesitantly, "Can I take his blade with me, kupo?"

"Yes," Rolf nodded, and the other three members of the crew nodded as well. "Now go."

Isaac and Eileen didn't wait any longer. Together, they turned away, and hurried down the empty street, pausing only long enough for Isaac to pick up Foobar's blade. Then, they set out, heading for Isaac's workshop.

Half an hour later, the two of them were sneaking past the guards at the gate to Helje. They walked quickly, using the towering, ruined pillars as cover as they moved, until they disappeared into the darkness of the caverns.

---

A/N: Just so that you know I'm not a terrible person, I did _not_ enjoy writing that.

Also, to the reviewer Wessels: Fanfiction won't let you post any email addresses or links in reviews. You have to either enter it into the e-mail option on the review sheet, or you can e-mail me directly from my userpage.


	110. The Path to the Gorge

"…so, what exactly are we doing in Eluut Sands?"

Isaac didn't reply, choosing instead to continue striding along the beaten down path through the dunes. Eileen, walking uncomfortably a couple of steps behind him, sighed, and kept following. Isaac had said extremely little in the week and a half since they had left Jagd Helje. The moogle had wordlessly gunned up _the Fallen Star II_'s lifeboat, and, instead of heading northeast as he should have to reach the Siena Gorge, he turned due east, and a bit to the south. Eileen hadn't commented at first, assuming that Isaac had known what he was doing.

However, as time went on, it seemed less and less likely to Eileen that he was heading towards Siena at all. Isaac landed the ship several hours later, just on the edge of a small river. They had finally slept there, and in the morning, continued moving along Isaac's original bearing.

For the following nine days, they had moved further and further east and south, all with Isaac barely speaking. For the most part, Eileen followed him without complaint, only speaking whenever she forced him to stop to eat or rest.

However, it was different from before. It wasn't that Isaac was despondent, as he had been after Lini's death, and he wasn't refusing to eat or sleep. It was more as if he was driven, and simply needed reminding to eat and sleep. It wasn't near as unhealthy as he'd been living previously.

That said, it wasn't something that Eileen enjoyed watching. He obviously knew precisely where he was headed with a well-defined purpose. Once or twice, Eileen had asked him about it, but he hadn't replied, so she had simply continued on with him.

That morning, they had reached the edge of the great desert, and begun walking along the marked paths that crossed it. Both of them had stripped off their heavier travelling cloaks, stuffing them into their packs as they felt real heat for the first time in months.

At around noon, Eileen noticed something up ahead, at the top of one of the dunes. At first, it seemed like a simple black splotch; perhaps the tip of a signpost, or a small bit of jutting stone. As they approached it, though, it gained definition, and the nu mou knew instinctively that this was Isaac's aim. She felt her curiosity growing as they reached the foot of the dune, and began climbing. Isaac didn't stumble at all as he walked through the deep, burning sand, too focused and driven on his destination. He quickly outpaced Eileen, and disappeared over the edge of the dune above her as the alchemist struggled onward.

Finally, Eileen managed to get up to the top, panting a bit with the exertion. She wiped sweat from her brow, and then glanced up.

Isaac was kneeling in front of a rectangular piece of worked stone. He had drawn the Materia Blade, and was holding it so that the point was buried in the sand. His forehead was leaning on the pommel, and he was completely silent as Eileen watched him.

Eileen turned her attention to the piece of stone, and her eyes widened a bit at the amount of work that had gone into it. There were carvings all over it; many moons and blades, and the occasional picture of a moogle. A small lip around the rectangle a few inches from the top showed that it was actually two pieces of stone, meant to lie on top of each other.

And then, suddenly, Eileen knew where they were, and why Isaac had brought them there.

Without hesitation, she stepped up beside the moogle, and also kneeled down before the tomb of Lini the Mogknight. She lowered her head somewhat, and stroked her hand over the handle of the Zeus Mace.

After a few long minutes, Isaac stood up, and sheathed the Materia Blade. Then, he reached to his belt, and pulled off Foobar's blade, sheath and all. He stepped up to the tomb, and carefully laid the weapon on the top of it. He kept his paw over it for a moment, then pulled it away, stepping back and nodding a bit.

He seemed a bit surprised when Eileen stepped up beside him. He turned to speak to her, but she stepped past him, until she was just in front of the tomb. He watched, confused, as she reached into her pack, and rummaged around for a moment. Then, she withdrew her hand, and he let out a half-strangled gasp.

Eileen glanced down at the bracer in her hands for a second, turning it over in them again and again. She looked at the beautiful craftsmanship, and the single bit of ornamentation of the crest of the family of Lini the Mogknight worked into the steel. Then, she laid the bracer down on the tomb, right next to the blade, and stepped back beside Isaac.

The two were quiet for a while after that. They stood, their eyes trained on the bracer and blade. Then, at once, they both turned, and started walking down the dune and away.

"You carried that with you for all this time, kupo?" Isaac whispered. It was more than he'd said for the past ten days.

"I wanted to give it to you," Eileen replied, her voice sounding guilty. "But… I didn't know how you would act. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before."

"Don't be, kupo. Where it is now… it's right. It's what she would have wanted. It's right for her, it's right for Foobar, and it was right for Carl."

"Carl?" Eileen asked, glancing over at Isaac and cocking an eyebrow. "Who's Carl?"

Isaac stopped for a moment in surprise, and then he muttered, "I've never really told you everything that happened while we were finding the Avuirs, have I?"

"Not really," Eileen said, and a small grin crossed her face. "I think you were home for maybe a week before we had to go to Sprohm to fight Diesel and Thomas, and…" Eileen paused, and her grin disappeared. "Things got hectic after that."

"Right," Isaac nodded. "Well let's get going then. If we travel all day, kupo, we might be able to camp in the same airship Carl and I used for shelter."

Isaac spoke for most of the rest of the day, recounting his time with the group that had tracked down the blades. It was a relief to Eileen just to hear his voice; it almost seemed as though all of the words he had held back over the past week and a half were finally spilling forth, filling the empty space with sound.

It wasn't until later that night, after they had reached the broken hull of the airship that Isaac had mentioned and eaten the few bits of rations they had left that Eileen asked the question that had been plaguing her for some time. Isaac was servicing his gun when she spoke up.

"So, where are we going now?"

Isaac stopped, looking up. He thought for a few moments, then muttered, "Well, I guess we head north. We just go up until we meet the gorge, and then… we meet Max."

Eileen let his words hang in the air, and then asked, "So, you're going through with it?"

"I don't know," Isaac replied. He leaned back against the hull of the ship, and then asked, "What are the rebellion's odds against the Palace, kupo?"

"Well," Eileen murmured, going it over in her head, "we're outnumbered, out-stocked, and out-positioned. It seems that the Queen has holed up in Ambervale, so if we try to take them by force, we'll have to go down into the gorge, and then climb up before we can reach them. All the Palace needs to do is set up some archers and a few boulders along the side, and we'll be done. The only other option would be for Marche and his group to take one of the airships to try and sneak in past Ambervale's protections and engage the Queen directly. But the Palace has an entire fleet of airships, and we've got two. Not to mention, the Queen herself seems to not only have impenetrable defences, but incredible powers." Eileen stopped, and glanced over to Isaac, shrugging. "The odds aren't great."

"And what about the judges, kupo?"

"Cid _might_ be able to handle an engagement with a couple hundred people in it; he's by far the strongest judge, though, and I don't know if there are enough judges in Ivalice to cover the rest of the area. If the Palace and the Rebellion do fight, it'll be without any protection."

Isaac pulled his legs up and crossed his arms over them, leaning his head against his knees. He watched their campfire dancing for a few moments, then muttered, "I guess I don't really have a choice then, do I, kupo?"

Eileen watched him carefully, then sidled over to him around the fire. He didn't look over at her until she reached down and wrapped and arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

"I want to make this easier for you," she said, biting her lip a bit. "It isn't fair that you and Max have to take all of this on yourselves. It feels like I should be doing something."

"You are," Isaac protested, glancing over to her. "I mean, you're…" He paused, and an impish grin crossed his face. "There's nothing I can say here that won't be completely clichéd, kupo."

"No, there isn't," Eileen replied, smiling back at him. "I know what you're saying, though."

"Good." Isaac took a deep breath, then murmured, "So, get to the Gorge in twenty days, avoid the Palace, and then battle the dragon, kupo. Sounds fine by me."

Beside him, Eileen nodded, noticing how he didn't mention anything past the battle with Maxwell. She chose not to ask him about it, though, and instead leaned against him, trying to get a bit more comfortable for the night.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Isaac's spoke, his voice hesitant.

"Eileen?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think it's possible… that what Max says is true? Could the Queen bring back the dead?"

Eileen sighed, then turned a bit so that she was leaning against the hull of the airship instead of Isaac. She slouched a bit, and looked far up at the stars. For a few moments she didn't reply, clearly thinking it over. Then, at last, she said, "I don't think so. It seems like the Queen's power comes from dreams. That means that she can do lots; she can hurt and heal to degrees far greater than just about anybody, without expending much energy. That said, I don't believe that dreams can bring somebody back from the dead." There was a bit of a raw edge to her voice as she added, "If they could, nobody would be dead right now."

Isaac nodded next to her, not pressing her. Maxwell's claim, that he'd seen the Queen revive somebody, still pressed on his mind, but he didn't mention it. Instead, he just laid out on the sand, still warm with the heat of the sun, and said, "I just can't see Maxwell going so far and doing so many terrible things for such an obvious ploy, kupo. It doesn't make sense to me."

"You know, you were too tired to talk to any of the prisoners we saved from the Prison, so you probably haven't heard."

"Haven't heard what, kupo?"

Eileen closed her eyes. "After Owen's father helped him escape, Khorin wanted to execute all of Owen's family, and a hundred other prisoners just to make a firm example and keep the rest of them too terrified to try anything. All of the prisoners say that the only reason he didn't was that a dragoon objected to it. The dragoon tried to force him to just let it go with a warning, but eventually he just managed to get Khorin to agree to killing only Owen's family." Eileen paused, letting Isaac soak this in before she went on. "That's not the only example. It seems that Llednar and Khorin always acted as the sword of the Palace, while Maxwell was the shield. I'm sure if we really looked into it, we would see that Maxwell has averted many tragedies over the past three years."

"So you're saying that Maxwell might not even be with the palace to bring back Jacqueline, kupo?" Isaac asked, one of his ears twitching a bit with the crackling of their fire. "He could be doing this just to blunt the palace's wrath?"

"I don't know," Eileen replied, shrugging. "It's always possible."

Isaac nodded slowly, saying, "You're right. But that doesn't excuse what happened in New Cyril."

"No. It doesn't."

The two of them were quiet for a while after that. Then, at long last, Isaac reached over to his pack, pulling out his bedroll. He got up, and set it out on the sand. "We've got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow, kupo. We should rest up."

Eileen nodded, and set about preparing her own sleeping space.

---

They took a mainly northern route from there, cutting straight across the remaining area of the sands. Within two days, they had left the heat, and were already beginning to feel the cooling of the seasons again. The further north they went, the more clear it became just how late in the season it was. The forests they passed were all ablaze with autumn foliage, and the days were getting shorter.

For the most part, they avoided towns and villages, instead keeping to the wilderness. The only times they approached civilization was to purchase some supplies, and then they would be on their way again. On these rare occasions, Eileen always went in alone, dressed in plain grey robes. Isaac's dark fur and ruined paw made him too easy to identify, but Eileen just appeared to be another nu mou on the road.

Gradually, their course veered off to the East more, and they found themselves straying further and further from any roads, instead keeping to the wilderness. There were too many patrols to risk it anymore.

One day, a week after they had left the tomb of Lini the Mogknight, the two had a particularly close call with a larger patrol. Eventually, the only way that the two had avoided detection was by Eileen causing an explosion off in the opposite direction as a distraction.

That night, as the two of them huddled close to their small fire, waiting for their dinner to finish cooking, Eileen said, "I think we need to actually plan how we're going to reach the gorge. We can't keep going like this and expect not to be caught. The security is too tight."

"What options do we have, kupo?" Isaac asked, glancing up. "I mean, if the royal family are living in Ambervale, now, then we can't hope to get to the gorge unnoticed, can we?"

Eileen seemed to think for a moment. Then, she picked up a twig from their pile of kindling, and quickly sketched out a simple map in the dirt, drawing the long, winding path of the gorge.

"We're right here…" she said, tapping the stick on the earth at quite a distance from the gorge. "Probably about two days from the closest point in the gorge. Our best bet would be to take a roundabout route, avoiding the denser areas of the palace's patrols, and then either go through Nubswood or try to find a pass under the mountains up north through Nargai Cave."

Isaac looked down at the small picture she had made. A long, thick scratch ran along parallel to the gorge, representing Nubswood. It began about halfway up the gorge's length, and extended up a further fifth of the length. Up at the top of the gorge, Eileen had drawn a large series of triangles, representing the impassable mountains that lined Ivalice's northeastern coast. She had placed a small circle to show the cave that lay near the beginning of the range.

"Nobody's ever gotten all the way through Nargai, have they, kupo?" Isaac asked, going it over in his head.

"No. For all we know, it could just lead to a dead end, or join up with the rest of the cave system under Ivalice and get us back to Jagd Helje."

"And how long will it take to reach, kupo?"

"Maybe another week to get to the cave, and about five days to get to Nubswood. Of course, there'll probably be patrols crawling through the woods, but it might be easier to avoid them in the trees."

Isaac breathed out slowly through his nose, then muttered, "I guess we're going to the woods, then, kupo. By the time we got to the cave, we would only have a couple days to get through to the gorge. Once we reach the woods, we'll still have a week to get through and prepare."

"Alright," Eileen nodded, agreeing. She licked her lips a bit, smudging the map out with her foot, as Isaac checked on the stew. As he stirred it, she couldn't help but ask, "Isaac?"

"Yeah?"

"When you fight Max… what'll you do?"

Isaac blinked, then lifted the spoon out of the stew. He blew on the concoction a bit, then sipped lightly at it. He smacked his lips, and said, "Stew's ready."

Eileen sighed, then held out her bowl for him to ladle the food into. As she took it back, she said, "Just promise me that whatever you do, you won't _let_ him win. Don't go into this planning on losing, alright?"

Isaac got some stew for himself, then leaned back. Without comment, he started eating. Eileen watched him for a moment, not missing the tenseness in his shoulders. Knowing that she wouldn't get anything out of him, she sighed, and started eating.

---

A/N: The left side of my brain is telling me to study for my geometry midterm right now. The right side of my brain is telling me to write. Guess you guys know which side won.


	111. Sidetracked

A/N: I am a very sick, tired, and cold fox right now. That, added with the increasing pressure of midterms, essays, papers, and upcoming finals, means that you shouldn't expect too much out of me for a little while. I'm sure some of you will be quick to point out that my last chapter took over a month to come out as it is; yeah, well, I'm lazy sometimes. This time, I do have an excuse, and I'm going to try to keep writing through all of this, because it helps to relieve the stress. But yeah, that's where I'm at right now. Also, many of you should enjoy this chapter, because it contains something many people have been asking for for a while, and that I've only recently added into the framework of the story to satisfy said people. Ah well, enough of my rambling. On to the chapter.

---

From the moment that Isaac and Eileen set foot into the woods, they were keenly aware of the silence. The leaves didn't stir in the wind, there was no trickling of water from any streams, and the earth barely made any noise beneath their feet. The lack of sound was oppressive, almost deafening in its force.

Their sense of unease and tension only grew greater as the hours drew on. Even as they drew deeper and deeper into the woods, with the trees rising ever higher about them, they didn't come across a soul. There were no patrols, none of the beasts that lurked everywhere in the Koringwood, not even any animals or birds roaming the woods.

As midday approached, Isaac finally broke the silence, whispering, "What do you know about Nubswood, kupo?"

Even his soft voice sounded deafening after the hours of near-perfect silence. Eileen looked over sharply at him, surprised by the noise, then shook her head, whispering back, "Not much. I think it used to be a hideout for thieves and robbers. Until the Queen moved the prince here, nobody even wanted to come close to Ambervale, so it would've been a pretty secure place."

"Why's that, kupo?" Isaac asked, glancing over at her. "It's just a set of ruins, isn't it?"

"History has power over certain places," Eileen responded, shrugging. "Think about it. The last time anybody was there would've been the Battle of Ambervale. A lot of blood was spilled during that battle. The conflict only lasted about a week, but tens of thousands of people died. It went from a sprawling metropolis to a half-destroyed set of ruins. The palace was more or less the only thing left intact. Not to mention, three Ultimates died there during the week." Eileen paused, then went on, "Call it ghosts, or superstition, or magic, or whatever you want, but that much death… it leaves its mark, and that mark isn't always as obvious as a jagd."

"Like Sprohm, I guess," Isaac murmured, and Eileen nodded.

The two kept going after that, deciding without speaking not to stop for lunch. They walked the rest of the day in silence, that sense of unease growing greater as the night approached. Once it had finally grown dark, the two of them stopped, and ate a cold dinner in silence. Isaac volunteered to take the first watch, and Eileen lay down in her bedroll, quickly falling asleep.

Isaac stood around for a short while by their campsite, his eyes darting around the dark and empty woods. He was used to taking night watches; he was comfortable enough with them not jump at every little sound that every creature of the night made about him.

However, this was an entirely different experience for him. Instead of all of the small sounds being amplified by the darkness, it was instead the force of the silence that grew stronger. He'd long since learned as a gunner that excessive silence was generally a better indication of somebody's position rather than excessive noise. However, in these woods, there was nothing but silence. His eyes flicked about, his ears twitching, desperate for any noise other than Eileen's steady breathing.

He tried pacing for a short while, but the soft sound of his own footsteps threw him off even more. His ears kept focusing on them, making him think that his steps were thunderous, and would give their position away to the entire forest. Finally, he stepped off of the path, going over to a fallen log, and taking a seat on it.

He tried to calm his breathing, which had grown anxious and heavy with his tension. Even as he did, though, he suddenly heard a dull, regular thumping. He jumped up, his paw instantly going down to the hilt of the Materia Blade. He glanced around, trying to discern the direction that the pounding was coming from.

It took him a good minute to realise, with a start, that the sound he was hearing was his own heart. He shivered, glancing around again just to make sure. However, he could feel the steady thrumming in his chest as he sat there, perfectly in time with the pounding in his ears.

The moogle sat back down, very slowly. There was something off about this forest. He had spent lots of time in forests since he'd come to Ivalice. With Ben, he had learned all about the Koringwood, to the point where he no longer felt afraid while walking through its depths alone. With the rest of his friends, he had lived for months in Muscadet, growing accustomed to the tranquillity of the Salikawood. He was comfortable in what he had thought were the two extremes, so another wood shouldn't have caused to much trouble.

This, though, was unbearable. He felt a desperate need to run, just run from the emptiness and find any kind of sound or noise. Something to remind him that he and Eileen weren't the only things alive in these woods.

He took several deep breaths, then closed his eyes, gritting his teeth a bit. He had to relax. He focused on the steady thrumming in his chest, echoing up to his ears. He thought about that, and let it be the noise for him. All he had to do was listen to that, and if he could get himself in tune with it, he would be able to hear any other difference or anything approaching. Yes, that would work.

And so he sat, focusing on the beating of his heart, trying to keep it in his mind. He wasn't sure how long he sat for; it could have been ten minutes, or it could have been two hours. Slowly, it grew louder, and stronger in his ears. He winced a bit as his ears actually started twitching with its force, the steady flow of blood through them amplifying the vibrations.

Then, quite abruptly, he glanced up, and looked around. He slipped his good paw underneath his shirt, laying it over the left side of his chest. He felt the soft bumping there, and his eyes widened. It was _not_ in time with that pounding he was hearing.

He cursed, jumping up and going to rouse Eileen. At some point while he'd been sitting there, he must have stopped listening to his own chest and instead locked onto the sound, now easily identifiable as marching feet. It was impossible to tell how far away they were in the perfect silence around them; he had nothing to judge the volume against. Knowing that it would be better for them to get out of the way quickly, he gave Eileen a soft shove.

She stirred, blinking, and glanced up at him, still waking. "Time to switch the shift?"

"We have to get off the path, now, kupo."

Upon seeing his face and hearing her words, she nodded, and got up quickly. They both set about to packing up there things as quickly as they could, listening as the approaching footsteps grew louder. In less than a minute, both of them had packed everything up and were slinging their packs over their shoulders. As they were about to step off of the path, though, a sharp voice cut through the silence.

"Halt, in the name of the Queen!"

All of a sudden, flames leapt to life not a hundred metres down the path from them. Both of them stopped abruptly, turning to look.

What looked like a full unit of the Palace's guards were there; at least thirty soldiers. Several of these were holding flames in their open hands, providing light and identifying themselves as Black mages. At their head was a group of maybe a dozen soldiers bearing melee weapons, and the back ranks were made up almost entirely of archers.

Isaac found this odd; he'd never seen such an unbalanced array of guards in a single unit. Normally, there would be a large number of fighters, and then a few archers and mages arranged in the centre of the group. This group seemed like almost the opposite.

The moogle was interrupted from his considerations when a nu mou, standing slightly ahead from the others, spoke. His voice was the one that had originally ordered them to stop. "Who are you, and what are you doing in these woods?"

Isaac and Eileen glanced to each other.

"How many mages can you take?"

"Depends on how strong they are. Probably the leader and at least five others."

"I'll cover you, kupo."

"Silence!" the nu mou at the head of the group ordered again, drawing Isaac and Eileen's attention back to him. "You'll answer me, what are you doing in Nubswood?"

"Go for it," Isaac whispered, and Eileen nodded.

She raised her hand, as though holding them up to calm the other nu mou down. However, as soon as they were up, Isaac's good paw flicked down to his sash, whipping out a judgepoint and throwing it into the air. Eileen and Isaac both yelled, their voices sounding out at almost the same time.

"I declare an engagement!"

"_Gift_!"

A judge shimmered into being between the two groups, even as, with a sharp hiss, a sickly, greenish gas flooded through the enemy's ranks. There was a rush to get away from the growing cloud, but many of them still breathed deeply of the poisonous gas.

As their opponents started hacking and wheezing, Isaac and Eileen hadn't stopped moving. Isaac drew the Materia Blade, and quickly fired off a charmshot at the leader. It slammed into his chest, and the nu mou took a pained step back, but otherwise, he appeared unaffected.

Isaac cursed. He'd expected the nu mou to have some protections, so it wasn't exactly a surprise that his charmshot wasn't working. However, it would have been nice. Gritting his teeth, he instead turned the remainder of the shots in his clip to the other mages, sniping as many of them as he could during the confusion. A grin crossed his face as he saw the mages turning on each other, either fighting amongst themselves or suddenly sending bolts of energy or shards of ice flying through the ranks of the archers.

Beside him, Eileen began walking quickly forward, the Zeus Mace now in her hands. The lead nu mou, seeing her, sent forward his group of soldiers, then pointed towards her.

Lightning leapt forward, arching over the heads of the soldiers, and homing in on Eileen. Seeing it coming, Eileen ducked her head, and raised her arm with her cloak draped over it. There was a flash of orange as it slammed into her, and several of the fingers of energy rebounded from her, bouncing away into the ground. A few of the twisted forks still managed to penetrate through, though, and she yelped as they burned through her.

As the spell finished, though, she pulled her arm away from her face, and kept walking forward. The soldiers rushed in at her, but even as they drew close, several of them cried out and slapped hands to bits of exposed skin where bullets had just landed. These few all looked confused for a moment, before they turned and attacked their allies. Quickly, most of the soldiers were drawn into fights with their comrades, and Eileen silently thanked Ultima that Isaac was as reliable as he was.

Despite this, though, one of the soldiers still managed to break free of the conflict, and seeing Eileen, apparently undefended, rushed towards her, his sword raised above his head.

Seeing him approach, Eileen simply flicked a hand forward, not even uttering the command word. Flames erupted from the earth beneath his feet, and the human cried out as he was scorched and thrown to the side like a ragdoll. There was a crunch as he hit the ground, and Eileen reached out, catching the judgepoint out of the air.

As Eileen continued forward, and the soldiers continued fighting amongst themselves, Isaac began running along the edge of the path, hoping to bypass the rest of force and attack the archers directly. They were still unorganised and confused, but the mages he'd shot earlier were beginning to return to their senses, and Isaac knew that once the arrows began firing, Eileen would have difficult avoiding them.

So, he had to draw their attention for as long as possible. Sighing in annoyance, he bunched his legs, then lunged forward as he drew close to the group of mages and archers.

The moogle let out a cry as he swiped his blade forward, leaving a deep gash in one of the mage's sides. The spellcaster yelled, collapsing to the ground and drawing the attention of all of the nearby archers and mages. At once, they all pointed towards Isaac or raised their bows, training them on him.

Moving quickly, Isaac stepped to the side, directly at a mage whose hands were full of lightning. The spellcaster, alarmed by the sudden direct attack, let out a yelp and fired a single bolt at the moogle.

Isaac hit the ground in a roll, going under the arching electricity. A blast of intense heat washed over his back as the crackling line of energy passed just above him, and he had to hold in a groan of discomfort.

He came back up to his feet, standing directly in front of the mage. His ear twitched slightly, and he just barely managed to make a quick step around the spellcaster as an arrow buried itself in the ground where he'd been a moment ago.

The moogle turned quickly, now standing right next to the mage. He reached out, and grabbed onto the human's robes around the hilt of the Materia Blade. His ears twitched again as he heard the sound of bowstrings being released, and Isaac yanked the spellcaster around in the direction that he'd heard the sound. The Black mage's body twitched violently as a sickening thud rang out, followed by several more twitches and thuds as Isaac's impromptu shield took all of the arrows aimed for him.

As all of this was going on, Eileen had finally drawn close to the platoon's leader. She had had to slow down to dodge or block several gouts of flame or spires of ice coming towards her, as the leader and four other mages attempted to blast her away, but now that she was within range, she raised the Zeus Mace, and pointed it at the five of them.

"Shall we?"

The five spellcasters all looked terrified for a moment, staring at the mage that had just repelled several of their strongest spells as though they were nothing. A breath later, though, the lead mage pointed towards the Alchemist, and yelled, "What are you doing? Attack!" With that, he flexed his fingers, and whispered beneath his breath, "_Halbe_."

Immediately, Eileen felt the force of his magic closing around her; an odd, perverse aura that was twisting everything around her. Her eyes widened as he recognized the spell, and she dove forward quickly, getting out of the spell's area.

She came back up to her feet, just in time to see one of the mages, a moogle, standing just in front of her, a ball of flames in his paw. He flexed his fingers, pointing them towards her, and the fire roared out at her face.

Working on instinct more than anything, the Alchemist raised a hand in front of the flames, and cried out, "_Wasser!_" A large globe of water materialized in her hand, and the flames slammed into it with an incredible hiss.

Instantly, steam erupted from the point of contact, gushing out to the sides. Eileen barely noticed one mage, who had been approaching from the side, fall back and clutch at his face, yelling as the vapour scalded his skin. She didn't pay it much attention, though; she was too busy feeding energy to her water to keep it from evaporating before all of the flames were absorbed.

Finally, the line of fire died, and the moogle that had been controlling it stumbled forward slightly. Clearly, he had poured more energy into the spell than he normally did. He barely caught himself, and looked up, just managing to yell out a surprised, "Kupo!" before a ball of superheated boiling water slammed him full in the chest. He was thrown back, battered and burned, and clearly out of the fight.

Eileen had no time to celebrate her victory, however. She was already jumping sideways out of the path of a jet of icy mist, towards the burned mage that was still clutching at his face. As she approached, he looked up, his blistering face showing his surprise.

Eileen, knowing that she had to take this opportunity while it was still presented to her, swung the Zeus Mace around, and it connected with a sharp crack against the mage's forehead. He went out like a light, and Eileen kept moving as another blast of flames rushed towards her.

Isaac, for his part, was busy dodging arrows and making quick attacks at any of the archers that happened to wander a bit too close. Fortunately for him, the two mages that he had taken down at the beginning of the battle were the only two he would have to deal with; the others had turned to focus on Eileen. Isaac was thankful for this; he'd never been good with spellcasters, and even a direct hit from a relatively weak spell was normally enough to take him out of the fight for a while.

That said, his fight still wasn't easy. These archers were very well trained. They knew how to cover each other, and aside from the occasional slip-up, Isaac got no opportunities to throw attacks at them.

On top of that, he was putting so much effort into dodging their arrows that he didn't really have enough time to reload his gun. As such, he was limited almost exclusively to normal attacks with his blade. All around, it wasn't a good situation.

As Isaac worked himself in circles around the small section of the path, he slowly realised that he wouldn't be able to get through this fight without taking at least a few arrows. He gritted his teeth at that thought. Sure, the injuries would seal up as soon as the engagement was over, but he still didn't relish the thought of being punctured a few times.

Eventually, though, he swallowed his annoyance, and focused for a moment as he ducked beneath an arrow. As he did, a thin layer of silver light began building up over his chest, covering the fur and skin there perfectly.

As soon as it was fully materialized, Isaac came back up to a straight standing position, then charged straight at an archer that was lining up a shot for him. The surprised viera stumbled back a step, before letting her arrow fly.

Isaac clenched his eyes shut for a moment as he felt it slam into his chest, pain spreading out from that point. However, instead of ripping in one side and out the other, as it ought to have, the head barely sunk in an inch before it ground to a shuddering stop.

The viera took another surprised step back, reaching behind to her quiver for another arrow. Before her fingers even touched the fletching, though, Isaac was upon her, and he brought his blade down in a brutal overhand chop. Blood splattered upwards, and the archer collapsed to the ground.

Isaac turned and kept moving as quickly as he could, reaching up with a paw to bat at the arrow. He winced for a moment as it tore out, but it wasn't too deep, so it didn't cause much damage.

As the moogle began advancing on another archer, Eileen was jumping back and out of the way of an icy spike that the lead mage was throwing at her. By now, she had easily identified that he was a practitioner of Black and Time magic: an all-out offensive type.

As she pulled herself back, she noticed a moogle coming at her from the side, fire building up in her paw. More on instinct than anything, Eileen reached out and grabbed the moogle's wrist, and then wrenched it upwards. The moogle stumbled in surprise, discharging her spell harmlessly high.

While the moogle was still unsteady, Eileen brought her free hand around, and pointed at the moogle around the Zeus Mace.

"_Sie Sterben!_"

Orange light burst from her fingers, quickly darkening down to black as it reached the moogle. The moogle's eyes widened for a moment in surprise, and then she slumped down in Eileen's grip, all of her muscles relaxing.

Eileen released the body, letting it drop to the ground. Turning, she let out a gasp, then raised her hands as flames suddenly rushed over her, pushing her back several steps with their intense heat. Just before the roaring and light and heat washed over her, though, she managed to pick out the lead mage murmuring something.

So, as she was being forced back the flames, she forced herself into that deep area of her mind she used when casting spells under stress. In a moment, she conjured up the spell diagram she needed and then fired it off.

There was a brief flash of orange light which was lost within the fire, but there was no other indication of a spell having been cast. Finally, her opponent's spell finished, and she staggered a bit, smoke rising from her scalded robes. Some of her fur had been singed off, and there were a few blisters rising on her skin.

However, she simply shook her head once, then took a step forward. Immediately, the lead mage, seeing that she was still a bit off-balance, pointed at her, and cried out, "_Langsam_!"

Bright blue light shot from his hand, lancing towards her. Just as it was about to strike her, though, there was a bright flash of orange, and the pale blue light jarred to a stop, as though running into something. For a moment, there was simply a bright spot where the shaft of blue and a curved wall of orange met. Then, the blue light dissipated, the orange structure seemed to shatter, and Eileen stepped forward, pointing at the mage next to the leader. She growled out, "_Meteorit_!"

Instantly, a molten ball of rock and flame blasted from her hands, the force of the spell forcing her a step back. The other mage looked on in shock, then moved to dodge, but it was too late. The meteor slammed directly into his chest, and lifted him from the ground, throwing him back dozens of metres before it finally pinned him against the trunk of a tree some distance off of the path. It crushed him against the wood for a few more seconds, and then the momentum died, and both the mage and the lump of rock slipped noiselessly to the earth.

Isaac didn't even notice the sudden show of light and flame going on behind him. He had managed to take down six of the archers by now, and one other was too busy firing at his own companions to aim at the moogle. All around, things were starting to look up for the mog knight.

That said, he had paid for his progress. There were now over a dozen small cuts and puncture marks covering his body. On their own, each of these injuries would cause him little trouble. All together, though, they were beginning to slow him down.

As the battle continued, Isaac couldn't help but notice just how well-trained these archers were. All of the warriors in this patrol were far stronger than the palace's average soldiers. Or the archers and the mages were, at least. The couple of melee fighters were much weaker than average. They hadn't even managed to sort themselves out from Isaac's one volley of charmshots yet.

It was confusing, but Isaac tried not to pay it too much attention. He ducked under an arrow, twirling as he did and slashing out with the Materia Blade in the direction the shot had come from. Moonlight exploded from the tip of his weapon, and shot forward, slicing through the chest of one of the archers.

As soon as the mog lance had left his weapon, Isaac had rolled forward, his crouch making it so that he didn't have to dive. He felt more than heard arrows thudding into the earth behind him, and he came back up, already running directly at another archer.

This one lined up his arrow, and even as he was firing it, Isaac decided in his head that he'd taken enough arrows for the evening. There should be a small enough number of archers left for him to be able to start pulling some fancy stuff.

So, as the arrow jumped towards Isaac, the moogle, instead of ducking or rolling or bracing for the impact, jumped up, tucking his legs upwards. The arrow passed by beneath him, and Isaac swept his blade at the surprised archer, still in the air. His blade clove through one side of the human's head, and out the other.

The momentum of the slice threw Isaac into a tight spin, so that he landed facing away from the collapsing body. He sidestepped an arrow, then slashed outward with a mog lance. The attack intercepted an arrow coming at him, and kept going until it sliced through the bow of the viera that had fired it.

He smirked inwardly as he saw the shocked and frightened looks on the faces of the remaining few archers; there were maybe eight of them. Good, they were scared. Maybe they would be more prone to making mistakes, now. Not allowing them the time to regroup, he lunged towards the closest archer, his blade leading.

The Time mage jumped back, just barely avoiding the earth erupting beneath his feet. As he reeled to keep from falling, he flicked a hand forward, letting out a small bolt of electricity.

Eileen swept her mace forward, and seemed to just smack the lightning out of the air with a small flash of orange. She took another step towards her opponent, over the smoking crater of her flare spell, and swung her mace in at him.

The Time mage's poor balance proved his saviour. As the mace was coming towards him, he tripped, and fell backwards to land heavily on the ground. As such, the Zeus Mace's head passed harmlessly high, and he was left panting on the ground and staring up at the Alchemist.

"Who are you?" he stammered, barely getting the words out of his heaving chest. "How… how are you doing this?"

"Never lost a duel before, have you?" Eileen asked, standing back a bit. There was a small bit of sweat on her short fur, but beyond that, she seemed like she had barely exerted herself at all. She kept the Zeus Mace pointed down at the other mage, as she dusted off her robes a bit with her free hand.

"No," the Time mage admitted, blushing hotly, but still managing to look her in the eye. "None of the mages could… they were too weak."

Eileen nodded a bit, looking him up and down, then said, "Work on your footwork; you should always be ready to dodge after a spell. Come up with some more creative ways to attack with your spells; you've got lots of power, but brute force is easy to easy. And, most importantly," she reached out with her foot, and prodded the rod he was holding in his hand, currently pressed against the earth, "use that. In an official duel, you only use magic, but in a fight, there are no rules like that. A good mage can still crack a few bones once they've run out of magic."

The Time mage cocked an eye at her, then glanced down at the rod, and began turning back to her, "You've got to be kidding. No mage—"

A sharp, sickening crack ran out through the clearing as Eileen's mace came down and smashed into his face. His body jerked for a moment, then went still as the Alchemist stood up straight again, wiping her mace off on his robes.

"Not kidding at all," Eileen said, then turned towards Isaac and the archers. There were only about five left, now, and Isaac was like a blur, never stopping in his movement as he dodged from to the other around the streams of arrows. She knew that he could probably handle it on his own, but still held a paw out, and stated, "_Kröte Werden._"

There was a flash of orange light, and then one of the archers gave off a yelp that quickly warped died in his throat as green smoke surrounded him. The smoke cleared a moment later, and a very confused looking toad glanced around from where the archer had been standing.

The four remaining archers glanced over at the amphibian in surprise for just a moment. However, that moment proved to be more than enough. As they were looking, Isaac, completely unsurprised by Eileen's help, send a mog lance through one of the archer's chests, before jumping up beside a surprised human and swiping his blade across her throat. Blood spattered across the path as she fell to the earth, and Isaac and Eileen rounded on the remaining two archers.

The two archers stared at their opponents in outright fear and wonder, both of them shaking visibly. They glanced to each other, and, as one, both realised with horror that neither of them had an arrow ready.

"I'd suggest surrender, kupo," Isaac advised.

The two of them glanced towards him. Then, as one, both reached for their quivers, each one grabbing an arrow.

Isaac's blade swept forward, moonlight exploding from its tip, even as Eileen's voice cried out, "_Sie Sterben_!"

One of the archers crumpled to the ground, and a moment later the other one fell back as his chest was sliced open. He hit the ground, and didn't move.

Eileen and Isaac glanced to each other. The nu mou's fur was singed in places, and there were definitely a few new burn marks in her robes. Isaac was covered in small scrapes, cuts, and bruises, along with one or two shallow punctures. Around them were littered the bodies of thirty palace soldiers.

They grinned to each other, then Eileen looked over to the judge that had presided over the whole affair.

"Thank you, your services are done here."

The judge's voice rang out, somewhat hollow from beneath his great helm. "The battle is not finished; I can not leave until only one clan or organisation remains standing."

The two friends each felt suddenly frightened, and they each took steps towards each other, glancing around into the trees. "What are you talking about, kupo? The Palace's soldiers have all been defeated."

"Yes; the Palace's patrol has been eliminated. However, there are still two factions remaining in this engagement."

"Kupopo?"

Suddenly, Eileen cried out from behind Isaac, and she took a step back, bumping into him. Isaac spun, his blade coming up as he yelled out, "Eileen?"

As he spun, she let out another yell, and took another step back, before collapsing backwards. Isaac stared at her, and more specifically, at the four arrows sticking out of her chest and neck.

The moogle looked up into the trees, his ears trained on any sound he might pick up. He began turning, when pain exploded from his shoulder. He let out a strangled cry as he looked down, and found, to his horror, the head of an arrow protruding from the front of his left shoulder. Pain lanced through his arm, and he felt the Materia Blade slip from his grasp.

Just as suddenly, two more points of pain exploded along his body; one in his right leg, and the other in his stomach as arrows suddenly appeared there. He fell forward as his leg gave out beneath him, and he groaned in pain as he hit the ground, unable to move.

He remained like that, panting and wheezing in pain, until suddenly, quite nearby, he heard a soft, feminine voice say, "Thank you, judge. Your services are now complete."

Isaac heard the unmistakable sound of an bowstring being pulled back, and then for an instant, pain exploded from the base of his skull.

Then everything disappeared.


	112. Nubswood

There were soft voices speaking all around him. He wasn't sure what they were saying, but he knew, intuitively, that these sounds were indeed voices. They weren't just some sort of white noise. There were words, sentences, meanings carried on those sounds. His sluggish brain told him that, at least.

Things returned to him slowly, as they often did after having lost an engagement. He couldn't remember how he'd lost, or even what battle he'd been fighting, but he did know that this had been caused by an engagement. He could still feel a bit of the tenseness in his muscles, and the odd downer after a mass of adrenaline he got from being in a fight.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Isaac managed to crack his eyes open, blinking rapidly in the light. There were splotches of colour all over the place, shifting gradually in and out of focus. It made his head hurt to look for too long, so eventually the moogle closed his eyes, simply panting and waiting for his full faculties to return to him.

He tensed up as something suddenly brushed against his shoulder. His eyes shot open, and abruptly, they managed to focus in on somebody leaning down over him. Even before his eyes were fully focused, he knew that it was a viera. The long ears and dark skin gave it away in an instant. As he watched, she ventured fully into focus, and he could see her in detail.

The viera was looking down at him with piercing blue eyes, oddly both critical and somewhat concerned at the same time. Unlike most viera, her snow-white hair was relatively short, cropped so that it ended at the nape of her neck. Isaac could just make out a greatbow protruding from above her shoulder before she gave him a small shake, and said, "He's awake. The mage should be coming to, soon, too."

Isaac was confused for a moment. It was clear she wasn't speaking to him, but those sharp eyes didn't leave his for the whole time. He found himself held by the eyes, wanting but unable to look away. He began trying to push himself away, but her grip tightened on his shoulder.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I could ask you the same, kupo," Isaac replied, though his voice didn't sound as strong as his words.

"You could," the viera conceded, "but you're not holding me captive, are you?"

Isaac blinked up at her, the blunt response catching him off-guard. Then, he inclined his head slightly. "Fair enough, kupo." He thought about it for a moment, then realised that giving up his name wouldn't be too big of a deal. They would no doubt have already seen his wounded paw and the twin blades Avuir; that was more than enough to identify him. "Isaac, captain of the _Red Flash_."

The viera eyed him for a moment in surprise, and then she said, her voice soft, "So you were a friend of Jacqueline's, then?"

Isaac's mind went blank when she said that. He stared up at her in shock, his mouth working but no sound coming out. As he lay there, rigid, she remained watching him, reading his reaction. She nodded slightly at his surprise, but otherwise she waited for his reply.

"She's… she was one of my best friends," he finally managed to reply. "Why? Did you know her, kupo?"

"I adventured with her for some time several years ago," she said, still not taking her eyes off of him. "I was saddened by the news of her death."

"Right, kupo." The moogle was doing his best to sound understanding, but he could feel that empty sensation in his stomach he always got whenever anybody spoke about the viera. He finally managed to say, "It was a lot for all of us to get over."

The viera kept watching him for a few moments, before another female voice, slightly lower, called off from the side, "Looks like the nu mou's waking up."

The viera glanced up for the first time, and Isaac felt a weight lift from his chest as those eyes stopped focusing on him for a moment. She nodded over at whoever had spoken, then glanced back to Isaac.

"My name is Shara," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly, "and I know that you had many obstacles to 'get over' concerning Jacqueline's death."

If she had slapped Isaac in the face, it couldn't have had a greater effect. He stared at her as she stood up, and walked away from him, moving away to converse with another viera several feet away. Soon, another viera came over, a bow hooked over her shoulders, and ordered him to stand and begin walking. Isaac did, testing his balance, and was relieved to find that the engagement dizziness was wearing off. He also noticed, for the first time, that all of his weapons had been taken, and, much more surprisingly, the glove he wore over his right paw at all times was missing. He couldn't remember it being torn off or anything during the battle, and it seemed like an odd thing to have taken. He shrugged, though, assuming that it had fallen off while the viera were taking him wherever they were now.

As Isaac stretched, glancing around, he caught sight of Eileen being pulled up to her feet by another viera. She brushed her robes off a bit, then glanced up to Isaac, giving him a nod. Isaac nodded back, not surprised to see that the nu mou wasn't panicking. The viera had taken away the Zeus Mace and her heavily enchanted over robe, but otherwise she looked perfectly fine.

Something prodded Isaac in the back, and he turned to see another viera standing behind him, holding a long rapier. She looked him up and down, then said, simply, "Get moving."

Not replying, Isaac turned, and started walking where the rest of the party was beginning to head. There looked to be about ten viera in the group, most of them carrying bows of some sort. There were two spellcasters, one in the veil of an elementalist and another in the robes of a White mage, walking before and behind Eileen, and one or two others who carried rapiers or katanas with their equipment, but it was clear that all of these viera were competent in ranged combat.

When they set out, it was still dark, and they were led by Shara, who carried a small orb that radiated a dull red light. Isaac wasn't sure how long he and Eileen had been out; it had clearly been a while, though, seeing as the viera had managed to drag the two of them away from the path. Isaac was fine in the near darkness, his sharp eyes picking out a way easily, though Eileen fared a bit worse. She tripped more than once over roots or dips in the ground, and the group had to keep stopping to wait for her to get up.

Not long after they set out, though, the sky began lightening, first becoming a pale shade of grey, before a plume of red flame arose in the west. As the sun rose higher, Shara put away her glowing orb, and the pace increased.

As they progressed deeper and deeper into the forest, Isaac was more and more astounded by the viera's silence. He and Eileen snapped branches or crinkled leaves with almost every step they took, but even Isaac's sharp hearing couldn't pick up the slightest sound from their companions. They would have even given Ben a run for his mon—

As he thought of the human, Isaac stumbled a bit, gasping to himself. He managed to cover it as a cough, though, and caught his stumble, he thought, before anybody could notice. As he took his next step, though, he noticed Shara glancing over her shoulder at him, looking directly into his face as she kept walking. The intense gaze made him actually stumble on his next step, unable to move as she watched him. The gaze lasted what felt like an eternity, though Isaac knew it to be less than a second, and then she turned back to the front, walking along.

Isaac remained staring at her back until the viera behind him prodded the moogle with the hilt of her rapier again. He glanced back at her, and she simply said, "Keep moving. We're almost there."

Isaac watched her for a moment, then shook his head, getting his composure back, and asked, "Where, kupo?"

"You'll see. Keep moving."

Knowing he wouldn't get any more out of her, Isaac turned and kept following the rest of the group. They went on for another half hour, treading over the slightly mossy ground. Before long, even Eileen's heavy steps were completely masked by the springy moss beneath them. The ground cushioned all of their steps, and made it much easier for them to travel.

Despite the increasing ease of walking, though, Isaac couldn't help but notice a growing unease in the back of his mind. He kept finding his eyes darting up to the trees, looking for signs of movement. He never caught anything, though, nor did he ever hear something that would give him cause to suspect he was being watched. That said, the feeling remained, and more than once the moogle found himself reaching towards the hilt of a blade that wasn't there.

"You're good," the viera behind him said, breaking the silence and making Isaac jump. He glanced back at her, still nervous, and there was a small smirk on her face. "Most people don't realise that they're being followed until we've put an arrow in them."

Isaac's eyes widened, and he glanced at the trees again, muttering, "Where are they, kupo? Why can't I see them?"

"The viera are the guardians of the woods," Shara's voice called. Isaac and the fencer turned to glance at the sniper. She stood at the head of their group, having stopped to turn and address the two of them. Her eyes were fixed on Isaac as she went on, "It's only natural that we can travel among the trees without making a sound."

"It takes one with very keen senses and great experience to pick out that a trained viera is following them," the fencer behind him said, drawing Isaac's attention back to her. "It speaks much of you that you can pick it out."

"I don't even know what I'm picking out, though, kupo," Isaac muttered, gesturing towards the trees. "I can't hear or see a thing."

The fencer's smirk widened, and she glanced up at Shara over Isaac's head. "He's definitely good."

"Don't attempt to judge him, Sanna." Shara's eyes were sharp, and still watching Isaac. "That's the job of the Three Trees."

The fencer's smirk instantly faded, and she nodded softly. Isaac glanced from Sanna to Shara several times, trying to understand what had just taken place. However, neither of them said another word, and the group set out, once again in perfect silence.

They went on for a short while longer, maybe fifteen minutes, before, quite abruptly, they reached their destination. Isaac was still watching the trees, trying to pick out any of the viera that were no doubt tracking them, when the group stopped. Isaac shook his head, surprised by the sudden halt, and brought his attention back to the ground, his eyes widening in surprise.

Before him, scattered among the moss and the trees, there were dozens of tents set up. Many were leaning against the trunks of massive trees, using the spaces left by roots for further space. The tarps used for the tents were a pale shade of greyish green, blending almost perfectly with the moss and the bark around them. It was no wonder that Isaac hadn't been able to see them.

As Isaac raised his eyes to look around, he was further surprised to see more and more of the tents further off, all arrayed in small clusters, often about the trunk of a tree. Only now that he knew what he was looking for could he pick them out from the rest of the woods. They were clearly organised into larger groups, and from the entrances of the tents of each group there hung a small token. Some of them were simple; a couple thin roots sewn into a ring, or a pair of eagle feathers. Others were more elaborate; one that he noticed in particular hanging from a larger group's tents was a thick strip of bark, always emblazoned with a rabbit's foot and bearing a couple of gemstones. All of the tents in this group, Isaac noticed, were well-tended, and generally larger than the tents in the other groups.

The group stood there for a few moments, before quite suddenly, a viera seemed to just appear from one of the tents before them. She approached them quickly, and walked right up to Shara. The two of them had a fast whispered conversation. Isaac couldn't make out much of it, but he did catch the new viera's eyes rising to glance at him and Eileen several times.

After a few minutes, the two of them nodded, and the other viera went back to her tent. Shara turned to their group, and nodded once, before turning and heading out, the rest of them following close behind. The walk was far less tense, now, and it almost seemed more like they were out for a stroll. They moved through the spaces between the groups of tents, until they found another larger group centred around the base of a large oak tree. The tents here all bore a simple insignia; a pale pink bead, tied to the entrance with a single strand of white hair.

Shara turned to them then, and said, "You're all dismissed for now, except for Sanna. Sanna, I want you to remain and help me escort the prisoners."

The group disbanded without another word, and for the first time since their capture, Isaac managed to approach Eileen. The alchemist nodded to him, and Isaac nodded back, seeing that she was fine after the long long hike. Sanna walked up behind them, and then the four of them wound through the tents in the camp, before they approached the base of the great oak tree. There, a tent that was larger than the others was attached to the vera base, and the overgrown roots made a perfect space in the ground for all of them to slip into.

Underneath, they found a surprisingly spacious area, with roots coming down with the tree's trunk to make small pillars in the floor. Clearly, this area had been lived in for some time, as the earthy flooring was packed down tight from footsteps, and there were a few small bits of furniture. Light filtered in through the tarp at one end of the space, casting a pale green glow over the place.

Isaac took all this in, before his eyes turned and focused on the one person standing in the smallish area. He gaped when he took her in, because he instantly knew who it was. A female human stood by a small table, glancing down at a map of the forest. Even under the short, dark purple cloak she wore, the girl was clearly muscular. Muscle, not burly, but corded and tight, was clearly visible through her pale skin. The rapier sheathed at her hip only further showed that this girl was a warrior; she knew her way around a battlefield, and she made no secret of it.

The most drawing of her features, though, was the long shock of pink hair that ran, straight and well groomed, down to the small of her back. It framed her face perfectly, and made her already pale skin seem to be pearly white in comparison. Sitting in the middle of the sea of white that was her face was a pair of blue-green eyes, incredibly bright and already evaluating as they sized up the four that had just walked into her tent.

"Shara," the girl said, standing up straighter. Her voice was surprisingly low for a girl of her age and appearance. "Finished the patrol, I assume?"

"Just got back, Ritz," the sniper responded. Isaac and Eileen glanced to each other, and both nodded. Their suspicions had proven correct; this was indeed the famous Ritz of clan Ritz. They turned their attention back as Shara went on. "We found these two engaging a squad of the palace guard, and took them prisoner."

"They took them on alone?" Ritz asked, raising an eyebrow somewhat.

"Yes. We waited until they'd taken down the patrol before we moved on them."

Ritz nodded slowly, turning to look first at Eileen, and then at Isaac. Her eyes widened slightly as she glanced at Isaac, and she said, "Moogle, would you mind showing me your paws?"

Isaac looked up a bit at that, then sighed, nodding, and raised both paws. The girl's eyes focused on his right one, her eyes following the deep line of the scar going through it.

"I noticed it as well," Shara said, walking over to stand next to Ritz. She shouldered down a bundle she'd been carrying, and laid it out on the table. She quickly pulled off the cloth covering it, and revealed that within lay Isaac and Eileen's equipment; the Materia Blade, the Zeus Mace, and the twin blades, as well as Eileen's Alchemist robe. Isaac blinked when he saw it, realising that Shara must have walked all that distance carrying that load, all without making a sound. He stared up at her in shock; she was no average sniper.

As Isaac was marvelling at the viera's skill, Ritz was glancing at the weaponry. She carefully ran her hand over the handle of the mace, then down to the hilt of Materia Blade, and on until her finger stopped on the Avuir Blue. Her eyes widened, and Isaac knew that she'd just felt that telltale lightness filling her body.

She turned and glanced over at the two of them and Sanna standing behind them. At length, she said, "Am I to assume, in that case, that you are Eileen Greatspell and Captain Isaac of the Red Flash?"

Isaac and Eileen glanced at each other. Eileen raised her eyebrows, and Isaac gave a quick nod. The two turned their attention back to Shara and Ritz, and Eileen spoke.

"Yes, we are. And would we be right in assuming that the two of you are Ritz and Shara of clan Ritz?"

"You certainly would," Ritz nodded, looking the two of them over. "Now, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly were the two of you doing in these woods?"

"We have an engagement to get to, kupo," Isaac replied quickly. The two leaders of clan Ritz looked down at him, and from Shara's expression Isaac knew that he'd spoken too quickly. Still, he pressed on. "It's very important that we get to the Sierra Gorge by the night of the full moon."

"By engagement, you mean an appointment?" Ritz asked, sizing the moogle up. "Or perhaps a battle?"

"That's our business," Eileen said, drawing the attention back to her. "If you'll give us back our equipment and let us leave, we promise that you won't see us again."

The girl and the viera glanced at each other, and Shara said, "I've already sent word to the Three Trees of their presence."

Ritz nodded. "In that case, it's beyond our control as to whether or not you'll be allowed to pass through these woods."

"How do you mean it's beyond your control?" Isaac asked. He was beginning to feel nervous; they only had three days left until the full moon, and without any weapons, it would be difficult for them to get away from the viera. "I thought you were the leader of Clan Ritz, kupo?"

"I am," Ritz nodded, "and as such, my voice carries great weight. That said, mine isn't the only clan here."

"Then that's what all of those symbols on the tents meant?" Eileen asked, speaking quickly so that Isaac wouldn't get the chance. She glanced to him, and gave him a look, and Isaac understood that she needed him to calm down. She went on, her voice unchanged, not acknowledging their silent exchange. "They denote the different clans here?"

"Precisely," Ritz nodded, and for the first time, a smirk flickered across her lips. "Jacqueline told me about you. She said that you were very sharp."

"Jacqueline?" Eileen blinked, surprised. Her cool façade faded for a moment, and Isaac couldn't blame her. "What about Jacqueline?"

"You are not the first members of your group of friends that we've met," Shara spoke, her cool voice cutting through Eileen and Isaac's surprise. "Jacqueline adventured with us for several months three years ago. She spoke of all of you a great deal."

Isaac and Eileen were quiet for a moment, processing this information. Finally, Eileen spoke. "She'd mentioned that she'd been doing some adventuring with Clan Ritz. I had forgotten. She never went into great detail with it, though."

"We also met your friend Maxwell some time ago," Ritz said, and was about to go on, but stopped when she saw the look that passed between the two friends. She watched both of them for a moment, before asking, "Has something happened to him?"

"It's complicated," Isaac said, licking his lips and saying no more.

Ritz and Shara looked to each other, and at length, the pink-haired girl spoke. "You are both very guarded in what you say. If you wish, you can keep your secrets for now, but if you wish to get to your engagement, I would suggest that you speak honestly when brought before the Three Trees."

"You keep mentioning the Three Trees," Eileen said, trying to break the tension somewhat. "You have to understand; nobody has heard a word of your clan in three years. We don't know anything about you. Who are the three trees?"

"The Three Trees are our elders," Ritz replied simply. "Any major decisions are made by them; you'll have to convince them that what you're doing is acceptable if you want to get through."

The two of them glanced at each other uneasily, and Eileen murmured, "So we'll only be allowed to pass through if the Three Trees allow it?"

"That's the way it works," Shara nodded, her voice soft. "Nothing happens without their permission."

"But…" a voice spoke hesitantly from behind the two friends. Both Isaac and Eileen jumped, having forgotten that Sanna was there as well. The fencer went on, her voice still halting and quiet. "What if we snuck them out? Make it look like they'd escaped?"

"Sanna, hold your tongue," Shara snapped, shooting the young fencer a sharp look. "We can't just step around the Three Trees."

"I trust them, though," Sanna said, still hesitant. "The moogle at least. I don't think they're bad people."

Shara looked as though she were about to speak again, but Ritz beat her to it, her voice quiet, but speaking with finality. "Be that as it may, Sanna, you know that we have to obey the Three Trees."

Ritz and Sanna stared at each other for a few moments, before the fencer glanced away, and murmured, "Understood. I'm sorry."

Ritz nodded, then glanced back to Isaac and Eileen. "The two of you will meet with the Three Trees tonight. For now, Sanna, I want you to take them to another tent, get them fed, and find them somewhere to sleep. The two of you must have had a long night."

The pair knew that they were dismissed, so they followed Sanna up and out of the tent, blinking a bit at the sudden light. The fencer led them quickly in a winding path around the tents, before she stopped and ducked into one near to the edge of the ring. The two glanced to each other, and Isaac shrugged, then followed her in. As the moogle stepped in, his eyes widened.

Inside, Sanna had already removed her sheathed rapier and the belt upon which it hung, leaning it against a small cluttered table with a few other swords. A shield lay on the ground not far away, along with a few leather vests and other light pieces of armour. Along with this equipment, there was a good deal of other clutter laying about the area. The place, all in all, was a mess. The bedroll was twisted and pushed against one of the walls, in order to make room for the rest of the mess on the floor. More than a few remains of old meals lay on beaten down earth, along with stray pieces of paper and fabric.

The fencer glanced over to Isaac, and she blushed then glanced away at his expression. "Sorry, didn't know I was going to have company."

Isaac shook his head quickly, stammering, "No, no, it's fine, kupo. I'm not exactly known for the being the most tidy person in the world."

The moogle stepped into the tent proper, allowing Eileen to step in. She, too, stopped for a moment to look around, before she forced herself to step in casually. Sanna was already grabbing things off of the ground and pushing them into a single corner of the tent, making a bit more floor space for them.

"I haven't got much to eat here, but if you'll excuse me for a few minutes, I should be able to get some rations from the stores for you. Then, you can sleep, and I'll get you up before your meeting with the Three Trees."

"Thank you," Eileen said, nodding to the fencer as Isaac kept examining the contents of the tent. "Actually, before you do that, I was wondering if you could tell us who the Three Trees actually are."

Sanna stopped, then glanced over to the nu mou. "Well, after the Sprohm Incident and the Battle of Muscadet three years ago, the viera and the rest of the people of Ivalice that lived in woods knew that they weren't safe anymore. The bangaa were out for them for revenge, and the Palace was out for them for fear of their power. So, many of the viera and a good number of the residents of the Salikawood, the Koringwood, and the Materiwood decided to hide away in the last place they expected anybody to look for them; Nubswood. When all of the clans and populations arrived here, they knew that they would have to organise themselves somehow, or else they would tear each other apart. So, one elder from each of the three great woods of Ivalice was chosen to become a head elder. They hold supreme power, and the clan leaders are just beneath them."

Isaac glanced over at Sanna when she paused. "You mentioned Koringwood, kupo. I thought the defenders of the forest in Koringwood remained behind in New Cyril?"

"Some of them did," the fencer nodded. "A good number disagreed with taking in the people of Cyril, though, and they came here. Their representative is a nu mou named Selim. There are also Idella of Salikawood and Muscadet, and Eleonora of the Materiwood."

"And we have to convince them that we deserve to be allowed through?" Eileen asked.

"More or less. It'll also help if you can convince some of the other clan leaders, because they can swing the Three Trees sometimes."

Eileen nodded, satisfied, and went over to sit on the floor, thinking about the situation. As she did, Isaac looked back to Sanna, and asked, "So how did you get involved in all this?"

The fencer bit her lip, then shrugged, and said, "I was living in Muscadet when it was attacked three years ago. My house was attacked in the bangaas' first attack. I would've been killed if Clan Ritz hadn't showed up and gotten me out. I joined up after the battle was finally over."

"Any family, kupo?" Isaac asked, keeping his voice soft. He'd learned that that could be a touchy question in these times.

"Just my older brother," she said, then she hesitated, looking down at the ground, before adding, "He's a human soldier with the Palace."

The moogle and the nu mou both looked sharply at the viera, before both of them managed to shake the surprise off. Eileen went back to her thoughts, while Isaac, getting his calmness back, managed to say,

"That must be difficult for you."

"It wasn't," Sanna said, kicking her foot in the dirt a bit and not looking up, "well, it wasn't at first, at least. Up until about two months ago, the Palace barely paid us any attention. We had to scare off a couple patrols once in a while, but that was it. A few months back, though, a giant airship flew by overhead, and about a week later, patrols from Ambervale started going along the Siena Gorge. About a month back, they actually started crossing the gorge and entering the woods. Since then, it's been constant patrols and skirmishes."

"So you're afraid you'll meet up with him on one of those skirmishes, kupo?" Isaac asked.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in almost four years; it would almost be a relief to see him, at this point," she shrugged, then, abruptly, she stood up straight again, clapping her hands together. "Either way, I'll go and find you some food now."

"Thanks," Isaac said, stepping out of the way to let her out of the tent. Once she had left, he looked over to Eileen. She was already watching him, and she waited a few moments before speaking.

"I'm assuming escape isn't an option?"

"No, kupo," Isaac replied, glancing nervously about the tent. "The viera are too good. We'd be pincushions before we got more than a couple metres."

Eileen nodded, trusting his judgement. She stretched a bit, then muttered, "We've got a bit of a problem then, aren't we?"

"So what are we going to tell the Three Trees, kupo?" Isaac asked, sitting on the ground next to her, then kneeling back to lie down. "The truth?"

"I don't know how we can," Eileen replied, and from her tone, Isaac could tell she was deep in thought. "If you trace the timeline, then that airship that went by overhead must have been _the Invincible_ after it got away from us. Just like we'd guessed, the Queen and the Prince have taken shelter in Ambervale. That means that our attack on Bervenia with Nutsy is responsible for all of the trouble they've been having lately."

"Great," Isaac muttered. "Not to mention, I don't recall Clans Nutsy and Ritz being on great terms before the Sprohm Incident. Once they find out that we've been working with them lately, we'll probably lose any support we had."

"Then our only option is to come up with some kind of story in the next couple minutes before Sanna gets back?" Eileen asked, shaking her head. "I don't know. Maybe if it was just one of us, but with the two of us, they'll catch us in a lie sooner or later."

Isaac sighed, then muttered, "So, we're going with the truth?"

"Seems like it."

"Great. I'm sure that saying I'm going to go into single combat against one of the generals of the Palace's forces will go over great with them, kupo."

"It's the only option we've got."

Isaac sighed, tilting his head back so that his entire body was stretched out on the ground. He finally murmured, "Alright. But we're not telling them about the prophecy, or the fact that Maxwell mastered Ultima."

Eileen looked like she was about to agree, until he mentioned the bit about Maxwell. Then, she paused, and said, very quietly, "You know, it could be easier for you if you just told everybody that Max mastered it."

"No!" Isaac snapped, glancing sharply to her. "Marche was having a hard enough time keeping anybody from assassinating _me_. If the Resistance got word of it, how is he going to convince the leaders not to go for Max instead?"

"Well, that's exactly it, Isaac," she reasoned. She held up a hand as Isaac began to speak again, silencing him. "Hear me out. What you're doing right now is dangerous, and it could easily get you killed. Not just the fight with Maxwell, but all of it; fighting so many battles, doing so much completely alone… it's not good for you. And, well, you're going into a life or death battle with him now anyways. What's the point in protecting him if you're already going there with the intention of killing him?"

He stared at her for a moment, trying to find a way outside of her reasoning. After a long couple of seconds, he finally muttered, "Well, I don't… that's not what I'm… kupo."

"What?" Eileen asked, her face tightening when she heard that. She processed it for a moment, then said, "You aren't going to kill him, are you?"

Isaac shook his head helplessly, then said, shrugging his arms, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" she demanded, her voice going down to a whisper. Somehow, the decreased volume made her voice even stronger than when she had just been speaking. "You don't… Isaac, he'll kill you! He won't hold back!"

"I know."

"Then how can you be doing this? How can you go into a fight like that without the intention of killing your opponent?"

"It's… I don't know, kupo!"

"Well you should, unless—" She stopped abruptly, and her face blanched suddenly beneath her fur. Then, she lunged forward, taking him by his shoulders and leaning in close to his face. "Are you only doing this because you want him to kill you?"

Isaac stared back into her eyes, his mouth hanging open. He tried to move it, to force some words out, but none would come. He didn't realise why, at first, until, in a flash, he knew. He didn't have any words for her. He couldn't confirm or deny her suspicion, because he didn't know himself.

After a terribly long moment of silence, Eileen shook her head, not releasing the moogle. She spoke, and her voice shook. "Get your head out of hole you've buried it in. You have to do this. If you're not willing to do it for yourself, then for Ultima's sake do it for the people we left behind in Jagd Helje. What we're doing is right. You have to believe that."

"I know," Isaac replied, his soft words barely audible. "I just can't help but think that Maxwell is thinking the same way, kupo, and the others who fight with the Palace."

"_Khorin_ fought for the Palace, Isaac! If they have people as evil as that working for them, how can they be right?"

"A general of the Resistance killed Foobar in cold blood right in front of me, Eileen," Isaac muttered. "If that's what 'good' people do, then how is good any different from evil?"

"That was different, Isaac. He was misguided. He made a mista—"

"A mistake that cost somebody their life, kupo! A mistake that stained his hands with blood! That's not something that just…" Isaac stopped, biting his lip, and Eileen instantly knew that the moogle was thinking about Jacqueline. He didn't pause for long, though, and instead went on, "Look, I saw those two, Eileen. That mage was rotten through already; he was only doing what was easiest and best for himself. And the bangaa… he had good intentions, but if that's what you're going off of, Diesel had good intentions when he tried to assassinate the prince, kupo! It didn't change the fact that they were wrong!"

"You can't use that situation to condemn yourself for what happened to Jacqueline, Isaac. They were different!"

"They weren't, though!" Isaac snapped. "I decided to kill her to save the city, he decided to kill Foobar to save his soldiers! It's the same, kupo!"

Eileen stared at him. Then, after a long time, she said, "Fine. But when we go to the Three Trees, tonight, I won't back you up if I think you're just trying to commit suicide."

Isaac was about to fire back at her, but at that moment, both glanced up as they heard footsteps outside the tent. A moment later, Sanna ducked through the entrance, carrying a loaf of bread and two wooden bowls filled with a simmering liquid. She glanced up, about to speak, then her eyes narrowed somewhat. Eileen was still holding Isaac's shoulders, and the tension in both of their stances was obvious.

"Should I leave?" she finally asked.

"No," Eileen said, standing up and stepping away from Isaac. She slapped her hands together a couple times, as though brushing dust off of them, and then said, "Thank you for fetching the food. How long until our audience with the Three Trees?"

"It'll be tonight. If you eat quickly, you should be able to get a good eight hours of sleep in beforehand."

Isaac stopped listening as the two kept speaking, Eileen making small inquiries about the proceedings and the camp in general. He slowly lowered himself so that he was sitting on the earth, and leaning lightly against the canvas wall. He watched Eileen the entire time that she was speaking, but she didn't betray anything. If she was still heated from their discussion, she didn't show it.

The moogle sighed, wishing he had her cool head. Then, he reached up to the table, picking up one of the bowls that Sanna had set on it, and began sipping at it, thinking all the while. If he wanted any chance of being allowed through, he would have to plan his words very carefully.

He paused for a moment, closing his eyes, and conjuring a vision of Maxwell in his head. Try as he might, he couldn't force it to be the wild dragoon, wreathed in shadows and darkness, hurtling towards him across the deck of that airship months ago. All he could see was the young warrior, leaning casually on his spear, and grinning through the scars that covered his body.

Isaac opened his eyes again, clearing the image. No time to waste doubting himself. Now, he had to work.

A/N: This long overdue update is dedicated to Shardik, by Richard Adams, and Logicomix, by Apostolis Doxiadis and the rest of his team, for, respectively, reminding me of how I want to write, and what it is I do all this for. Also Porter Air, for getting me stranded in Toronto long enough to think this out.


	113. The Three Trees

Isaac and Eileen had been awake for some time when Shara and Ritz appeared at Sanna's tent to bring them to the meeting. The two of them had done their best to clean themselves up, and Sanna had helped them by tracking down some clean clothing for them. Both had discarded all of their worn travel gear, and had put on the plain and earthy-coloured clothes their host had procured for them. Isaac opted not to put on the glove that the fencer had found for him, knowing that the viera were already well aware of who he was.

It was early evening at this point, but the sun was already setting behind the trees. It cast a cherry glow through the encampment as they walked along, passing group after group of tents. It was difficult to tell how large the entire encampment was due to the incredible skill used in camouflaging the tent and masking their traces. However, Isaac got the distinct impression that they were moving closer to the centre of the camp, as they began to see more and more groups of tents, and these groups grew closer together.

It was as they were walking by a larger than average grouping of tents that a viera ducked out of one of the tents. Immediately, Ritz and Shara stopped to wait, and Isaac, Eileen and Sanna watched her approach.

Once she drew close, they could all easily see that she was not a run of the mill viera. Her skin rippled with thin, chorded muscle as she walked, and she stood a full half of a head taller than Shara or Sanna. She wore simple clothing, all of it dark and fitted so as to not restrict her movement. For weapons, all she had was a single katana sheathed at her waist, the hilt protruding out of a thick sash.

As she drew closer, the viera glanced at the moogle and the nu mou, then called to Ritz, "These are the prisoners, then?"

"They are," Ritz spoke. Isaac immediately noticed the somewhat tight sound of her voice as she said it, and he looked at her and the new viera closely.

The other viera came to a stop just in front of them, and she gave a quick nod to both Shara and Sanna. Then, she looked to Isaac and Eileen, and both were well aware that she was sizing them up. After a time, she glanced at Isaac's paw, and seeing the ruined limb, she finally spoke.

"The two of you are staunch opponents of the Palace, if I remember correctly."

The two friends glanced to each other, not quite sure how they ought to respond to that. At length, Eileen said, "You could say that. I was leading the resistance in Cadoan up until a few months ago, and Isaac was the pilot of a pirate hunting ship."

"And you were Nutsy's allies before the Sprohm Incident, weren't you?"

"We had travelled with them a few times, yes," Eileen replied, caught by surprise by the viera's accusatory tone. "I don't see what that has to do with—"

"It has to do with your association with a group of dangerous warmongers, nu mou," the viera spat, glaring at Eileen. "You can't spend time with that kind of filth without getting a bit filthy yourself."

"Vili!" Ritz snapped, drawing the attention back to herself. She was standing with her feet well-spaced, and nobody missed her hand resting upon the hilt of her rapier. "This is neither the time nor the place. If you have an issue with them, you can voice it to the Three Trees. Until then, it is not your place to interrogate or judge them."

The viera kept her eyes locked on Ritz, and she carefully drew herself up to her full height. Ritz stood her ground, though, not flinching as the viera, a good two feet taller than her with the ears, looked down at her.

For his part, Isaac was surprised when he heard the viera's name. Vili? It was an uncommon name, and it seemed bizarre that he should have met two assassin's with it in so short a span.

Then, like a spark on dry tinder, the answer flared up in his mind. When he had first met Vili back at Bervenia, she had mentioned that her real name was Littlevili. She had also said that this was because her older sister, the leader of the famous Brown Rabbits clan, was already named Vili. So… this was Littlevili's elder sister? He glanced to Eileen, and she gave him a quick nod, showing that she had come to the same conclusion.

He turned his gaze back to Ritz and Vili, and almost fell back in surprise. The two hadn't moved from their positions, and each were still in their aggressive stances. However, now, Vili's hand was also on the hilt of her weapon, and a pale red glow starting to rise off of Ritz. In addition, Shara had shifted her grip on the greatbow she carried so that the grip was in her hand, and her fingers were tense as they waited to reach for an arrow. Sanna's hand had also strayed to the hilt of her rapier, though she looked far less confident than the other three warriors. Isaac saw all this, and was shocked by the amount of open aggression. They wouldn't actually resort to open violence in the middle of their camp, would they? It did look like it, though, and something told the moogle that if a fight broke out over them, it wouldn't help their case with the Three Trees at all.

He blurted out, "I've seen your sister, kupo!"

That brought the others up short. The three viera and the human all stared over at him in surprise. For a moment, Isaac was lost for words, but then he barrelled onwards, hoping it would have the appropriate effect.

"I've fought alongside her, kupo. She's very strong. She's saved a lot of lives over the past few years."

Again, there was silence for a few moments. Then, quietly, Vili murmured, "So you've seen the little deserter, have you?"

"She's one of the strongest warriors of her age in Ivalice, kupo," the moogle pressed on. "You should be proud of her."

The viera was already shaking her head before he finished, though. "She's hot headed and unfocused. It isn't her place to take a side in all of this."

"It's the place she chose," Eileen offered, shrugging. "She made the decision, and now she's living with it; prospering, even. Many people can't say that."

"No. But then, many people can't say that they've betrayed their entire race," the assassin growled, narrowing her eyes. "As the Archmage of Cadoan and the wielder of the Twin Blades Avuir, I would hope that you could both appreciate that."

"You should get going, Vili," Shara spoke suddenly, surprising everybody with her calm voice. The five others turned to stare at her, but her placid expression barely even changed. "There are only so many seats for the hearing. Wouldn't want to lose your chance to speak on the prisoners' fates."

Vili glanced at the other viera, clearly sizing her up. After a long moment, though, she cleared her throat, muttering something, before turning and walking away.

Their group of five watched her going for a short while, Isaac and Eileen both feeling the tension still radiating off of the red-haired human. After a short time, Sanna spoke.

"Shall we wait a short while longer before going to the Three Trees?"

"Yes, I think we will," Ritz replied, finally looking as though she was relaxing. "They can wait a bit longer."

"There will be others watching the hearing?" Eileen asked.

"Yes. Clan leaders are allowed to come and watch, and to present their own opinions. The three of us are guaranteed seats, because Clan Ritz was responsible for catching you. I apologize for that small outburst," she added, finally letting her hand slip away from her rapier's hilt. "Vili's Brown Rabbits were one of the most competitive clans before the Sprohm Incident. They had scores to settle with just about every large clan in Ivalice, ourselves and Clan Nutsy included. It seems that old rivalries die hard."

"So you've seen her sister?" Shara asked pointedly.

Isaac and Eileen glanced to each other. Then, hesitantly, Isaac said, "Yes, kupo. We fought alongside her for some time."

"With Clan Nutsy?"

"Kupo."

A barely noticeable look passed between Ritz and Shara, and Sanna's face fell a bit at the admission. However, Ritz managed to cover up any feelings she might have had to say, "We should get moving. The Three Trees won't like it if we're too late."

The five of them set off again in silence, and this time it felt more tense than before. Isaac and Eileen both understood perfectly well that they had lost a significant amount of support.

Soon, up in the distance, a tree that looked larger than most reared up. As they drew closer, it grew larger and larger, until they could see that it was easily as thick as ten of the other trees. As the trunk grew thicker in their vision, so too did the silence about them to thicken. It was bizarre, to Isaac; before, he had been aware of the uncanny silence in the forest as being different from any normal silence he had heard. Now, though, in the presence of this tree, it seemed to grow even heavier. By the time that the five of them had reached the base of the trunk, the silence felt like a tangible force about them, pushing softly but insistently at them to move away. Their steps, even muffled as they were in the thick grass, were deafening to the moogle's ears, driving him to wince each time his foot touched the ground.

As they reached the base of the tree, the three members of Clan Ritz stopped and waited. Isaac and Eileen glanced around for something, either a space beneath one of the roots to climb into an underground tunnel, or any kind of camouflaged tent they may have missed. They found nothing, though, and so they waited there for a good two minutes before anything happened.

At first, the two of them didn't even notice. Then, Isaac caught Shara's eyes flicking upward, and he followed them. He actually had to take a step back in surprise as he saw a wooden platform lowering noiselessly down towards them from somewhere high up the tree. Eileen looked to him, not sure why he was so surprised, but he quickly pulled her back and out of the way as the platform kept descending. The nu mou jumped when she finally noticed it, just short of reaching their heads.

The platform came to a rest just in front of them, the base of it not quite touching the grass. It was a perfectly square structure, with corded and layered vines affixed to each of the corners. Wordlessly, Ritz and the viera stepped up onto the platform, and it creaked and swung slightly beneath their weight. When Ritz glanced to them, the moogle and the nu mou quickly followed suit, stepping up onto the platform.

Without any of the others on the platform making any action, it began rising again. The movement was so soft that Isaac didn't even feel the jolt as they began moving. Then, they were rising, slowly but surely, and leaving the grass below them.

Eileen moved to stand in the middle of the platform, her expression showing how uncomfortable she was to be so high up with nothing to keep her from falling off the edge. Isaac, though, couldn't help but step up to one of the affixed vines and lean against it, looking out over the edge as the world grew further and further away beneath them. Aside from the occasional creaking of the wood, there was no noise. No breeze stirred the moogle's fur, and none of the birds he would expect to live this high up were chirping.

"What is it about these woods, kupo?" Isaac asked at long last, as he watched the trunks of the other trees about them beginning to grow thinner. His back was facing the others on the platform, so he couldn't see their faces as he went on. "I've spent months living at altitudes where no other creature would survive, and the world seems more alive there. Why is it so… dead here?"

"These woods are older than any in Ivalice." Isaac was surprised to hear Shara's low yet soft voice answering him. Even her quiet tone was blaring in the silence. "Much has happened here; lovers have met, hunters have trapped, armies have camped, blood has been spilled. At some point, a place, just like a person, can't take any more life."

"But the trees are alive," Isaac pointed out, gesturing vaguely at the approaching canopy, filled with vibrant green leaves.

"I didn't say that the forest had died," Shara replied. "The woods certainly aren't dead. However, you can't really call them alive, either. They're caught somewhere between, waiting either for death or for when they'll be revived. It's much like people; after they've gone through extremely trying times, there has to be a time of silence and of peace before they can live again."

"Or die trying, kupo."

"That is another possibility."

The two fell silent as, finally, they found themselves immersed in the canopy of the trees. Leaves and branches brushed by them, making barely more noise than a whisper, and then, abruptly, the platform stopped moving.

Sanna and Shara walked over to one edge of the platform, their tall ears bending beneath the branches about them, and together, they pulled at the foliage until it parted, and abruptly, Isaac and Eileen noticed a path made of nailed down planks leading into the centre of the large tree's foliage. Ritz stepped out onto this path, and gestured to them. They followed, and the two viera stepped into the path after them, letting the foliage fall back into place and enclosing them in a path of green light.

The boardwalk led gradually down, and quite soon they could see a very large platform down beneath them, nestled in the spreading branches of the trees. It looked like a large semi-circle, with the outer ring of it being on a raised level. There were several short, subsequently lower levels going down as it moved into the middle, reminding Isaac of a scaled-down version of many of the arenas and coliseums he had been to since coming to Ivalice. Indeed, these levels seemed to serve the same purpose, as he could see that most of the space on these different levels was occupied by vieras and a few other races, sitting and looking down into the centre. The lowest, central level was quite small, having just enough room for a long table with three chairs at it and enough space for somebody to stand before it.

The five of them walked down, and soon they reached this structure, and followed the boardwalk to a set of stairs walking down the middle of the semi-circle. As they walked by, the spectators turned to look, their eyes all falling on Isaac and Eileen. Isaac could feel their looks, and he had to consciously remind himself not to reach down and tug his sleeve over his right paw.

Ritz led them down to the bottom, middle section of the semi-circle, and Isaac noted that nobody else had sat on that level, yet. The clan leader took a seat on the lowest level of the rings, and gestured for Isaac and Eileen to join her. They did, and Shara and Sanna sat on their other side. They waited a short while, the silence seeming all the stronger now that there were more people around, before the Three Trees finally showed themselves.

Abruptly, everybody's heads jolted up, and they all turned to stare up at the top of the stairs as three figures stepped up to the top of them. They began descending, single file, and Isaac immediately knew that these were the people, the ones that would decide he and Eileen's fate.

First came a viera, looking to be slightly past middle age. She wore long, sweeping red robes that covered much of her form, and made it look as though she floated rather than walked. A rapier, the hilt gleaming with gold, was bound to her waist by a slightly darker red sash. She kept her ears bent back against her head, their brown fur standing out starkly against her extremely long white hair. Isaac had to hold in a gasp when he saw her eyes; they were an intense shade of red, so bright that they almost glowed. It wasn't a frightening red, though; it was oddly soft, and resting only within the depths of her pupils. He could feel Eileen tensing beside him as she saw this feature, and he understood why. He had never even heard of a viera whose magic was so powerful that it glowed from her eyes.

"Idella," Ritz whispered, leaning in so that her mouth was right by Isaac's ear, "the elder of Salikawood and formerly a member of the ruling council of Muscadet."

Idella glanced briefly at Isaac and Eileen as she stepped by them, a curious yet sharp look in the red eyes. It was only a moment, though, and then she stepped around the table, and took a seat on the other side.

After her came, to Isaac's surprise, a young-looking male nu mou. Apparently, not all of those camped out here were viera. The nu mou's clothing was quite haggard; covered in tears and burn marks, and obviously several sizes too large for him. His eyes roved across the gathering as he descended the stairs, taking it all in. This, too, was odd to Isaac; most nu mou he had met, with the possible exception of Ezel, were very dignified and proper people, in both appearance and behaviour. This one, though, had something of a wild look about him that Isaac couldn't figure out until he came a few steps closer. The moogle's eyes were drawn down to the belt that held the nu mou's raggedy pants up, and he stared as he understood. Several perfectly round, glowing orbs, roughly the size of a baseball, were attached to the belt for easy access. Each one was a different colour, and each had an odd, murky quality to it that caught the eye and drew it in. Isaac had fought only a few morphers during his time in Ivalice; they were few in number. Each time he had fought one, though, it had been a battle of adaption. It was impossible to prepare properly for a morpher.

"Selim of the Koringwood," Ritz explained for Isaac. "If I recall correctly, he was one of the two leaders of the defenders of Koringwood before his group broke off to come here. The other leader would be your friend Ben."

Isaac nodded quickly, jerkily, and bit his lip. Fortunately, he was saved from having to think about Ben too much as Selim stepped past and also took his seat on the other side of the table. At that moment, the person that Isaac assumed was the last of the Three Trees walked down the staircase. Again, Isaac was surprised by her appearance, but this time for the opposite reasons. The viera that descended the staircase looked for all the world to be an extremely average elderly viera. Her hair, tied back into a simple braid down her back, had lost its white sheen, and darkened to a dull silvery gray colour. Her ears, erect atop her head, were a similar shade of grey, and they drooped somewhat with age. The viera's face had that odd look of older members of her race; there were no wrinkles, and no obvious outward signs of her age, but it exuded such a level of experience and calm that there could be no doubt. She bore no weapons on her body, and wore simple clothing.

"Eleonora of the Materiwood." The soft tremble in Ritz's voice gave Isaac pause. She hadn't spoken in such a voice about the other two. "If we had chosen a single leader instead of three, it would have been her."

The viera stepped down onto the final level, and paused. Her pale blue eyes turned and looked first at Eileen, and then squarely at Isaac. The moogle's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't blink as she watched him, her placid expression seeming to demand his attention. He had never experienced anything quite like it before.

She looked away, then, and stepped around the table to take the centre seat. It was only then that Isaac realized he hadn't been breathing.

As Eleonora sat, Selim cleared his throat, drawing the attention back to him. The nu mou's restless eyes wandered over the assembled group, numbering about forty in all, and then he spoke.

"We've gathered here today to discuss the matter of two strangers that were picked up in the woods. From their equipment and descriptions of their abilities given by Shara of Clan Ritz, it has been confirmed that these two strangers are Isaac the Mogknight and Eileen Mindclear of the Five."

Isaac and Eileen glanced to each other upon hearing those titles. The moogle had been known primarily as the captain of the Red Flash for some time, and Eileen had long since shed the name 'Mindclear' after her defeat of Bartholemue Greatspell. They looked back to the head table as Idella continued, the Red mage's voice clear and sharp.

"Many of those gathered here have had previous encounters with members of the Five. As such, they have earned a trusted position amongst us. However, things can change greatly over the course of three years. In light of this, this council has been called with two purposes. First: to gain information on the outside world from these two, in hopes of better understanding our current position. Second: to discern there intentions in passing through Nubswood, and judge its effect on us."

She turned her eyes to Isaac and Eileen, clearly sizing them up for a few long seconds. Then, she nodded, and said, "Come now. We have had little or no contact with the outside world in the past three years, but for our skirmishes with the Palace. Inform us of the goings on of the world."

There was silence. Isaac looked to Eileen, raising his eyebrows. She nodded to him, and he nodded back, taking a deep breath. Then, he stood up, and stepped out into the space in front of the table. He faced the Three Trees, but he could pointedly feel the eyes of the other spectators fixed on his back. He clenched his good paw a bit, then stood straight and faced the three of them squarely.

"Alright, kupo. Where should I begin?"

"After the events in Sprohm," Selim said, tapping his fingers on the table. "We're well aware of all that happened in the city of the bangaa, concerning both your injury and the subsequent actions of your group. Ben informed me of it."

Isaac nodded, biting his lip a bit as he did so upon hearing Ben's name again. However, he pushed that down, and said, "I'll tell you what I know of it. Eileen will be able to give a better idea of the events in Cyril, but I can tell you some of the more recent developments, kupo."

And so he began. He glossed over much of his time in the skies, knowing that didn't concern the viera all that much. He gave as much detail as he could, though, when it came to anything after Lini recovering him. He found that when he first started talking about the mogknight, it was difficult to keep his voice steady. However, he eventually managed to force his mind into a mode in which he spoke purely of the events, and he didn't think about them.

When he started his tail, there was still a bit of filtered green light drifting through the leaves. As he went on, though, it quickly grew dark, and gradually the mages in the group began allowing the light of their magic to show in order to keep them illuminated. Soon, there was a myriad of lights shining on him from almost every direction, making for an oddly disorienting affect as he watched the faces of the Three Trees.

The three elders remained perfectly silent as he went on, and, clearly out of respect for these three, the rest of the assembled group did as well. Occasionally, he would see flickers of emotion going across Idella or Selim's face when he spoke of events. The news of Lini's death brought one such of these, causing both of their eyes to widen almost imperceptibly. Much more concerning, though, were their reactions to Maxwell's betrayal and Ben's death. Upon hearing of the dragoon's actions aboard the _Invincible_, and Isaac's retelling of how he had been working with the Palace for several years, he noticed Idella's left eyebrow rising slightly, and an occasional twitch around the corners of her mouth. Ben's death, which Isaac had expected would cause sadness or at least surprise to Selim, garnered the most surprising reaction of all. The morpher simply frowned, and nodded gravely, as though it were a piece of old news. It didn't seem possible, though. How could he have learned of it?

Throughout it all, though, Eleonora's face remained placid and almost emotionless. Her eyes, which Isaac didn't see blink a single time throughout, were fixed on his. She didn't smile, didn't frown, didn't show any sort of opinion on the news he was giving. At first, the moogle assumed that she was simply trying to put forward an intimidating image, and keep him on his guard. As he went on, though, her lack of reaction began unsettling him more and more. Could she actually have no feelings about everything he was saying? Was that even possible? He knew that it was somewhat arrogant, but he felt that his adventures over the past few months deserved at least some reaction. Or was she even paying attention?

At long last, feeling agitated and more than a bit annoyed, his tale came to a close with his and Eileen's decision to pass through the Nubswood. He hadn't given the complete details of the previous months; the exact location of the Rebellion's current base he had left quite open, simply referring to it as a jagd. As well, he had stretched the truth in his and Maxwell's battle against Ben in the Koringwood, leaving out the bangaa's use of Ultima without the aide of the Materia Blade. Also, very early on, without putting much thought into it, he had decided to leave out his more personal moments with Lini and Ben. He wasn't completely certain why he had done it until he stood there in the silence after finishing, waiting for anybody to speak. Darkness had completely fallen by this time, and at this point the only light in the area came from the many mages' magical auras.

At long last, after Isaac felt he had been standing before the three of them for an eternity, Idella spoke.

"Is that all you have to say?"

Isaac eyed the three of them carefully, trying to discern by their expressions whether he ought to have said more or less. They were all unreadable, though. So, he simply took a deep breath, and nodded. "It is, kupo."

Idella and Selim nodded slightly, and Isaac finally tore his gaze away from them. He began walking towards his seat between Ritz and Eileen, keeping his head down to try and feel like he wasn't the centre of attention.

As he took his seat, Ritz tapped his shoulder, and passed him a small wineskin. He nodded to her, and took a quick sip to wet his dry throat. As he pulled it away from his mouth, Idella began speaking again.

"Lady Mindclear, do you have anything to add?"

Eileen stood up next to Isaac, and said, plainly, "With respect, I feel that the only details I could add would be on the Battle of Cyril, which your own elder Selim ought to know of from the refugees from the city."

Selim cleared his throat, drawing the attention to himself. "I left before any of the refugees arrived."

Eileen glanced to the other nu mou, her eyes showing honest surprise. "Excuse me?"

"When Ben and the majority of the other defenders of the forest decided that they wished to take in the refugees, my own faction decided that we saw no reason in remaining, so we came here immediately."

Eileen's eyes flickered, the orange light of her magic wavering a bit around her. "You didn't even give them a chance?"

"It was clear that there was no point in doing so," the older nu mou shrugged. His mood had shifted almost imperceptibly, so that now there was a bit more of an edge to his voice and stance. "From your friend's story, I can see that I made the correct decision. The refugees were dangerous to the forest."

"The events in Koringwood had nothing to do with the actions of the refugees," Eileen defended.

"It was the presence of the refugees and the actions of Clan Nutsy that provoked the Palace's attacks. They were dangerous to the woods from the outset."

"Those people protected Koringwood with their lives. Hundreds died to force the Palace back out!"

"They died in a battle that did not concern the trees and the creatures of the Koringwood, but that still grew to encompass them," Selim reaplied simply, his cold and unforgiving logic knocking Eileen off guard. Her orange aura flickered again, more violently this time, and she was about to speak, when Idella cut her off.

"We can debate the morality of the battle in Koringwood later." Her red eyes flashed over to Selim, who gave a slight nod, and then they turned back to Eileen. "Lady Mindclear, if you could please tell us of what happened in Cyril?"

Eileen looked from one to the other of the two elders, her hands balled into tight fists at her sides. After a moment, though, she took a deep breath, and her magic's aura became more stable about her. Then, she said, "Well, if you wish to know what happened in Cyril, you should first know that my name is no longer Mindclear. After the events in Sprohm, I took on the name of Greatspell."

This brought a few murmurs from the watchers, particularly the one or two nu mou gathered. However, all of these were silenced as Selim cast a glance over the spectators. He remained watching them in the silence for a few moments, and then returned his gaze to Eileen.

"Go on, then, Lady Greatspell."

Eileen nodded, and then she began speaking of the events that had led up to and happened in Cyril. Isaac, having heard this story before, only half-listened, and instead glanced up and over his shoulder at the assembled group.

In some ways, they reminded him of the refugees he'd seen in New Cyril. All of them had that same look of hard living, and few of them wore any significant ornamentation. However, there was a difference. Whereas the people of New Cyril had always seemed a bit awkward in their situation and out of place in the forest, all of those watching left no doubt that this was their place. They were in their element, and they were perfectly at ease. Isaac managed to pick out Vili amongst the spectators, and he noticed the sharp, critical look in her eyes as she watched Eileen speak. He knew that she would probably try to speak against the two of them, along with a good number of those assembled. All that he could hope was that the Three Trees were sympathetic.

After a short time, Eileen finished her story. Her memory still wasn't clear on much of her time fighting in Cyril, so she had simply outlined the main events. Once she had finished, she gave a brief nod, and said, "That is all I have to say." Without waiting for their comment, she stepped away and sat down next to Isaac again.

There was a long moment of silence. Then, Idella spoke.

"So, we have received much news from our two guests. We can debate these matters later. For now, the question at hand is whether or not we should allow the two of them to pass through the forest to do battle with Maxwell the Dragoon. At this point, anybody may step forward to give their opinion."

Before the Red mage had even finished speaking, Vili was on her feet. All eyes turned to her as she walked over to the aisle, and she approached the space that Isaac and Eileen had spoken in. When she reached the bottom level of the platform, she waited. At length, Idella said,

"Vili of the Brown Rabbits. Say your piece."

"Elders," she gave a sharp nod. "With respect, we shouldn't even be discussing this. These two have admitted that they are allies of Nutsy and the Rebellion, whose affairs we have long ago decided to remain separate from. Letting this duel between the moogle and bangaa take place will only further aggravate both sides. We can't trust either of them."

She gave another sharp nod, and then turned on her heel to walk back to her seat. A quick survey of the crowd showed many heads nodding in agreement, and a few mutters gave the same impression. Isaac swallowed, beginning to feel nervous. He glanced to Eileen, and she caught his eye. Seeing his tension, she placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a small squeeze.

"Are there any others that would like to speak, or shall we have the representatives of Clan Ritz speak on behalf of their prisoners?"

There was silence, and so Idella turned to glance at Ritz, gesturing for her to come forward. The human nodded, and stepped before the table. Despite the fact that she was one of the youngest present, she held her head high, and kept her posture perfect as she addressed the three elders.

"Elders, as you know, my clan has personal experience with Clan Nutsy. I have already spoken to you of my feelings concerning them, and I stand by my previous statements. If ever Marche and his clan, or whatever group he associates with, attempt to pass through our forest, I will personally challenge him to single combat to settle the matter. However, neither of these two is a member of Clan Nutsy; indeed, it seems as though they have alienated themselves from the Rebellion by their actions in coming here. If the only charge against them is that they have collaborated with Nutsy previously, then my entire clan is also guilty. While I admit that this is a matter that could have much wider implications for the war and for ourselves in particular, I think we ought to look at it as a private matter, much like my relationship with Marche. As always, though, I will stand by your decision."

Idella nodded slightly as Ritz finished, and Selim tapped the table once, murmuring, "Well said." Eleonora, as ever, made no visible reaction. Ritz bowed to the three elders, and then returned to her seat.

"Shara," Idella said, turning her red eyes to the sniper. "What have you to say?"

Shara stood up, and without stepping forward, simply said, "My opinion is my own. Whatever your decision is, I'll stand by it." She sat back down, her face as unreadable as Eleonora's.

Nobody seemed phased by this, though. Idella simply turned her attention to Sanna next, and she simply nodded to the young fencer. Sanna stood up jerkily, and then stepped into the speaking area. She was as different from Ritz as possible; skittish and jumpy. She was almost shaking as she stood before the Three Trees, and it took her several attempts before she could actually find her voice and speak.

"E-elders," she said, then stopped, closing her eyes. She opened them again, and then began speaking, very quickly. "Elders. I don't think these are bad people. On the way here, Isaac – the moogle – he could hear the silence. I don't think…" she trailed off, stammering a bit, and bit her lip. The Three Trees were watching her with great interest. Both Selim and Idella had their eyes fixed on hers, intense looks on their face. Much to Isaac's shock, though, Eleonora, who sat between them, had a small smile on her face. She nodded very slowly at Sanna, which coaxed the fencer into saying, "I don't think that a bad person would notice something like that. I trust them."

With that, she turned away, and hurried back to her seat. There, she shivered a bit, and lowered her head. Even her ears went back against her head, clearly trying to make herself look smaller.

Idella, then, seeming to abruptly lose her formal composure, stretched and yawned. She shook her head as she finished, then glanced to the other two at the table. "So, Selim, would you like to ask questions first?"

"Gladly," the nu mou said, turning to look at Isaac and Eileen. He cleared his throat, then gestured towards them, "If you please, step forward again."

Isaac and Eileen glanced at each other, surprised by this sudden shift. After a quick moment, though, they both got up, and stepped into the speaking area. There, they faced the three elders, not completely sure what they were doing there.

"Alright," Selim said, nodding first at Eileen, then at Isaac. "This is the chance that the three of us get to ask you questions before we make our final decision. Answer honestly; if you don't, we'll know. So, firstly, Lady Greatspell. We haven't heard the thrilling tale. How is it that you came to be Greatspell of the Alchemists?"

Eileen blinked once, caught off guard by the question. "Well… Bartholemue Greatspell and I duelled during the Sprohm Incident, and I won. By the rules of the Alchemists' Guild, I assumed control from him."

"Right," he nodded, smirking a bit. "A thrilling battle, I'm sure. But are you saying that your claim to lead one of the most powerful mage guilds in Cadoan was based off of the outcome of a single duel?"

"It's…" Eileen stopped, eying the morpher carefully. "Well, that was how it happened, yes, but I had Bartholemue's full support."

"Of course you did," the morpher nodded, cocking an eyebrow at her. "How unfortunate, though, that he died while battling alongside you in Cyril before there could be any real public debates or discussion on the subject."

Eileen stared at him after that statement, her eyes narrowing. The orange aura of her magic flickered noticeably, a twinge of gold running through it, as she murmured, "What, exactly, are you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting a thing," Selim replied, sitting back in his chair. "I'm simply observing some interesting facts as we attempt to discern the character of you and your group of friends. The events do play out remarkably in your favour, and we already know that your group of five has a somewhat vicious history."

"Meaning?"

"Both Jacqueline the Scarlet Rapier and Ben the Blue Ninja are dead, and both by the hands of your friends. Now, it seems, two of you remaining three intend to kill each other. I somehow doubt murdering a former rival in order to advance your own position would phase any of you a great deal."

"Kupopo!?" Isaac snapped, stepping toward the table. His left paw reached to his hip for a hilt that wasn't there. Instead, he simply clenched the paw into a fist, glaring at the nu mou. "What did you say?"

Selim kept his face passive as he regarded the moogle, saying, "You yourself admitted that you struck the killing blow against Jacqu–"

"That's not what I was asking about," the moogle interrupted. "What are you trying to say about Eileen?"

The nu mou blinked, seemingly surprised for once. He glanced over to Idella and Eleonora, trading glances with the former and simply cocking an eyebrow at the latter. He looked back to the moogle and the nu mou, then, and this time addressed Isaac.

"You take greater exception to me suspecting Eileen of deception than you do to being called the murderer of one of your friends?"

"I killed Jacqueline," Isaac said without hesitation, drawing a look from Eileen. His voice had definitely held the normal pain it did whenever he spoke of the incident, but any of the normal waver or uncertainty was gone. She kept listening attentively as he went on. "Whether I was right to do so or not is something I'll never know. I can live with any accusations people make against me about that, kupo. If you even begin to place that kind of a burden on Eileen or Max, though, kupo, I'll show you the fury of an Ultimate."

Selim regarded him for a long moment, his eyes unreadable. Then, he muttered, "No further questions. Idella?"

"Don't you want me to respond to your question?" Eileen asked quickly, stepping forward so that she was next to Isaac.

"I don't feel that it's necessary. Idella, if you please."

The Red mage nodded to the morpher, then turned to fix her glowing eyes on Isaac. "You lay a charge of treason upon Maxwell the Dragoon, then?"

Isaac nodded without a word.

"And you suspect him to such a degree that you are willing to kill him for it?"

That question set Isaac back on his heels. He opened his mouth to respond, but his voice caught in his throat. He looked down, for a moment, thinking of what he ought to say, then turned his eyes back up. The moogle took another breath to speak, but Idella cut him off before he could begin.

"You seem very unsure. Odd, coming from one that intends to do enter into mortal combat with him. Could it be that you are entering into this battle with the intention of dying?"

Isaac swallowed, and glanced over at Eileen. The Alchemist was staring at him, waiting for his answer with a closed face. The moogle turned back to Idella, and murmured, "That's certainly possible, kupo."

There was silence all across the platform for a few moments. The unnatural quiet of the forest seemed to sweep in, stealing the life from the gathering and freezing all those gathered as branches growing out of the tree. At length, Idella nodded, and spoke, breaking the spell.

"Interesting. You know, surely, that Maxwell was one of the most important leaders in the Battle of Muscadet. If it weren't for his warning, the forces he brought with him, and his own tremendous strength in battle, the ensuing conflict would have been a slaughter."

"He told me so himself, kupo."

"And knowing this, you still intend to duel with him?"

"I do, kupo."

"You also said that his main reason for betraying the Rebellion was to end the battle, and save as many lives as possible. Do you believe his words?"

"I do."

"Why, then, do you still wish to fight him?"

Isaac didn't even try to answer this time. He just stood there, looking towards the Red mage, without moving.

"Could it be that all you really want is vengeance?" Idella phrased it as a question, but it was clear from how she said it that there was no doubt in her mind.

"When we fought on _the Invincible_, that was what spurned me on, kupo," Isaac nodded.

"You wished to avenge Lini, your lover?"

Isaac nodded stiffly.

"Interesting. Since then he has also killed your friend Benjamin; so you feel that if you killed the dragoon now, you would be avenging yourself two-fold?"

Isaac bit his lip, but didn't answer for a long time.

"Again, interesting. Do you not think it's possible that Maxwell has as much claim for vengeance on you for the death of Jacqueline?"

"That's enough." The attention shifted abruptly from the viera and the moogle as Eileen took a step forward, glaring at the Red mage as she put a hand on Isaac's shoulder. "What Isaac did in Sprohm was terrible. After the incident, though, Maxwell and I spoke, and _both_ of us agreed that if we had been in Isaac's position, we would have done the same."

Isaac stared over at the nu mou in surprise. Neither she nor Maxwell had ever told him of that discussion. Idella looked as though she were about to comment on this, but Eileen cut her off.

"Their actions can't be compared, and I would appreciate it if you would stopped tallying up the deaths of my friends as though they were points in a game. A man I loved died in Sprohm with Jacqueline, along with thousands of others. Lini was a great warrior and a wise friend, and Ben saved my life more times than I care to count. The difference, though, is in the way Isaac and Maxwell have made their decisions. Isaac had no time to make a decision when he killed Jacqueline; he acted on instinct, and he managed to save a friend and many more people besides by doing so. Maxwell has had years to make his choices, and yet he still decided to set the trap for Lini and to allow the Battle of Koringwood to take place."

The nu mou fell silent, then. Idella looked her up and down quickly, before locking her red orbs on Eileen's green eyes. The Alchemist didn't back down, and simply stood there, not wavering or backing down in the slightest.

At length, a tiny smirk flashed across the Red mage's face, and she turned to look over at Eleonora. "No further questions."

The old viera nodded back to Idella, and then she turned to examine the moogle and the nu mou for a few moments. There was silence for a long few moments, the tension in the air almost thick enough to feel. Then, at last, she opened her mouth, and spoke.

"The two of you have been speaking quite a bit. Would you like some water?"

Isaac and Eileen, as one, blinked. They glanced to each other, then back at Eleonora. Tentatively, Eileen said, "Yes, please… that would be nice."

Eleonora nodded, then gestured over at Ritz. The human jumped up, looking just as surprised as Isaac and Eileen felt, and brought a pair of wineskins over for the two friends. They took them, nodding awkwardly in thanks to Ritz, and then both took tentative sips.

Eleonora watched them both throughout this short process. Then, abruptly, as Isaac was taking a mouthful of water, she asked in a bright, casual voice, "So, are the two of you lovers, then?"

Isaac gasped, then choked on his water, and then coughed hard, spraying water from his mouth and nose clean across the table. There was a small shimmer of purple light as the droplets flew towards Eleonora, and they all fell short before the smirking viera. Eileen, next to Isaac, had taken a step back, her mouth dropped open in surprise. Isaac finally caught his breath, and then the moogle and the nu mou began speaking at once.

"We're not—"

"We haven't—"

"I mean, not like that—"

"Not that there's anything wrong—"

"It's just uh—"

"I would never—"

"We don't really… wait, kupo," Isaac glanced over at Eileen. " 'I would never?' "

Eileen looked back to Isaac in surprise. "Well, I thought we'd talked about it…"

"Yeah, we said it wasn't the right time, kupo. I thought that that meant—"

"Well, I didn't… I didn't mean it like that."

"Ah, I apologize if I've asked an awkward question," Eleonora's voice broke in, reminding the pair that they weren't alone. Isaac and Eileen both jumped a bit, then turned back to face the viera, each of their faces flushing with embarrassment. "Would you prefer if I asked something else?"

"Yes," Eileen said immediately, and Isaac didn't argue.

"Alright then," Eleonora nodded, a smirk playing at her lips. "Isaac, you are an Ultimate, and Eileen, you have almost mastered Ultima. Have either of you heard of another Ultimate from several centuries ago named Lady Emily?"

Isaac and Eileen froze upon hearing the name, their embarrassment forgotten. Lady Emily was the name of the viera Ultimate that had made the prediction…

"The name seems to be familiar to you," Eleonora nodded, going on. "Perhaps it would intrigue you to know that I am an ancient descendant of the same Lady Emily?"

Isaac sucked in his breath, and Eileen asked quickly, "But… you wouldn't possibly—"

"No," Eleonora shook her head, guessing at the question. "I have never studied the ways of Ultima. The Zanmato left my family many generations ago, thankfully enough. However, I was wondering whether either of you were familiar with the prophecies of Lady Emily? One in particular…" The viera paused, as though trying to remember the name. "Ah yes. The Prophecy of Five Bloods."

The two friends made no move. Each one knew that if they did, they would give off some sort of sign of recognition, and to do so would completely ruin their story, and thus their credibility. So, instead, both remained quiet.

After a few very long moments, Eleonora spoke again. "Nothing? Doesn't ring any bells?" She paused a moment longer, then shrugged and sighed exaggeratedly. "Pity. Ah well, I believe I've asked all of the questions I've had to. If the members of Clan Ritz would be so kind as to join us, I feel that it is high time for the three of us to go and make our decision, isn't it?"

Selim and Idella nodded. The Three Trees stood, and stepped around the table, none of them looking at either Eileen or Isaac, who were still standing, as they did so. Ritz, Shara, and Sanna got up and followed the three elders, Sanna casting quick, hopeful look at the two friends. Then, the group of six walked up the aisle and off of the platform, and they were gone.

Isaac and Eileen glanced to each other in bewilderment. After a few minutes of waiting, the two of them went over and sat back down, each one conscious of all the eyes on the platform watching them. Occasionally, they heard quickly whispered conversations in the upper levels, but they could never make out any of what was being said.

What felt like an unendingly long time later, everybody on the platform heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on wood. All of the eyes turned, and watched as the group returned down the aisle, the Three Trees leading, with Sanna bringing up the rear of the group. Her head was held low, and as she sat down next to Isaac and Eileen with Shara and Ritz, she shot them a quick, guilty look, before returning her eyes to the floor.

Isaac and Eileen didn't get a chance to consider this, as Selim cleared his throat, drawing their attention to the table. Once she was sure that she had everybody's attention, Idella stood slowly up, and using her formal voice again, spoke.

"After hearing the stories of the prisoners, the opinions of the community, and the prisoners' answers to our questions, we the Three Trees agree, unanimously, that Isaac of the Red Flash and Eileen Greatspell will be barred from moving through the forest, and will be held here until the end of the full moon in order to prevent the duel between Isaac and Maxwell the Dragoon. After this time, their weapons and equipment will be returned to them, and they will be escorted from the forest. This is our decision."

She nodded, and sat down. At once, people began getting up, chatting with neighbours and commenting on the proceedings. Isaac and Eileen, though, remained rooted to where they sat, staring at each other. That was it. They wouldn't make the meeting with Maxwell.

"Isaac," Eileen began softly.

"It's never going to end, kupo, is it?" the moogle replied, sitting back and staring past her. "This conflict… it's going to just keep on going and going without end."

Eileen hesitated, then leaned forward, and whispered into his ear, "We'll find a way. We still have two nights until the full moon. If it means we'll have to escape the viera first… we'll find a way."

"We won't, though, kupo," Isaac replied.

"What?"

"I've had enough of it. I don't want to run or escape or fight anymore. I can't fight these people, and I won't keep fighting in a massive war that's really just a feud between friends. I'm done with it."

Eileen stared at him for a long moment, before hesitantly saying, "Isaac…"

"We should get going," Ritz spoke. "It's a bit of a walk back to our camp."

Wordlessly, Isaac stood up. Eileen tried to catch him so that they could share a few more words, but he pushed past her, and walked away, following after the three members of Clan Ritz. She could only watch as he walked away, his shoulders slumped, and looking a good deal older than she'd ever seen him.


	114. Silence

As the two of them walked between the tents, the darkness, combined with the inescapable silence of the forest, made their normally soft footfalls thunderous in their ears. Isaac was amazed that nobody had heard them thus far, and he had to keep glancing around to make sure there were no bows trained on them from around the camp. Nothing was ever there, though, so the moogle just kept following close behind Sanna, trying to mirror her movements as perfectly as he could.

After what felt like a painfully long time, Sanna finally ducked around a tree on the outskirts of the camp, and stopped. Isaac slipped around with her, and after one last glance around the surrounding trees, he glanced up at her.

"So what, exactly, are we doing here, kupo?"

Sanna paused to catch her breath, bent almost double. He could see that she was even more nervous than him, perhaps. Then, she said, "I'm on guard duty along this section, tonight. If you slip through our defences here, I'll be the only one that notices you. If you go off from here, and keep the moon to your right, you'll hit the Siena Gorge by sunrise."

Isaac blinked, and stared up at her. He had been expecting something like this ever since she had shaken him awake with a hand over his mouth, then gestured for him to follow. Still, hearing it aloud was a different matter altogether. He kept staring for a few moments longer, before he managed to regain his head.

"What about Eileen?"

"She'll be safe here. Besides, there are Palace encampments all along the edge of the woods that faces out onto the gorge. You should be able to sneak past them alone, but it would be difficult to sneak a mage, and particularly a nu mou past them."

She held up a hand abruptly, and Isaac understood that he was not to speak. She remained perfectly still, her tall ears swivelling about on her head occasionally. Then, she released her breath, and slung the pack she had been carrying off of her back. She rummaged in it, then withdrew a long package and pressed it into the moogle's paws.

"That's the Materia Blade. I couldn't sneak the other two out, so you'll have to settle for that." She paused, taking a deep breath, before adding, "I still think you're a good person. Go now, good luck."

Isaac stared up at her, clutching the weapon against his chest. At length, he said, "Make sure Eileen understands. Thank you."

With that, he turned, and set off into the night. He had disappeared completely from view within a few seconds, his small size and dark fur allowing him to blend perfectly with the night. Sanna stared after him, still panting hard. She raised a hand, and took a deep breath to call after him, then thought better of it and looked down.

"Well done."

Sanna didn't look at all surprised by the soft voice. Instead, she slowly tilted her head up, looking up to the lower branches of the tree she was resting against. There, standing perfectly balanced on a branch that looked too small to support her weight, was Shara, her greatbow held lazily at her side, and a full quiver of arrows on her back.

The two of them kept quiet for a short moment. Then, Shara said, "I think I've given him enough of a head start."

She looked as though she were about to set out, but Sanna's voice stopped her.

"You don't have to follow the Three Trees' orders. You could always just let him escape without testing him."

Shara shot a glare down the trunk at the younger viera. "If I disobey their orders, that gives Vili and her Brown Rabbits free reign to do the same. Do you want that?"

"No, of course not. It's just… you can't just kill him. He's not some Palace soldier or violent rebel or anything. He's more than that."

"I'll decide that for myself," Shara replied coldly. "Besides, you're the one that said it: he can hear the silence. It's my job to test just how well." Before Sanna could respond, the sniper's form shimmered, before she faded completely from sight. Sanna sighed, slumping back against the tree trunk in defeat. Then, abruptly, Shara's voice spoke from right next to her ear.

"I promise I'll try to make it quick for him."

Sanna stared about, trying to pinpoint from where the sniper had spoken. There were no signs though, and so the fencer went back to her watch position. The night suddenly seemed much colder, and the time began passing much slower.

---

Isaac moved slowly, at first, just in case there were any viera sharpshooters posted around the outskirts. He wasn't sure what kind of a defence network they had set up; what with how quiet all of the people of Nubswood were, there could be nobody, or there could be a thousand eyes watching him, and he would never know the difference.

After maybe ten minutes of such slow and quiet movement, though, he began growing more confident. He walked upright, and at a steady rhythm through the trees. He paused occasionally to catch is bearing, but otherwise he moved quickly over the soft grass.

The moon was bright enough, even through the trees, to cast small shadows across the forest floor. For a while, Isaac was able to focus on these, and on his own footsteps and breathing, in order to keep himself from getting lost in the silence, like he had on his first night in the wood. Eventually, though, the lack of any other noise, and more so the lack of any movement in those shadows, began growing on him. Soon, he could feel the fur along his arms and back pricking up in discomfort and fear.

It wasn't natural. That was all there was to it. There should have been something here, something other than him. Even when he was alone on the deck of his airship at night, there was still the wind, and the creaking of the wood and swaying of lines. Here, not a leaf stirred, and not a thing moved in the darkness around him.

After a few more minutes of travelling along in the silence, he stopped, and decided to take the Materia Blade out of the cloth that Sanna had wrapped it in. It was in its hilt, the same one that Lini had born it in for years before he'd owned it. The belt was also still attached around it, so it was a simple matter for Isaac to simply sling it on over his right shoulder, down to his left hip, so that the hilt protruded above his left shoulder. He reached up and brushed a finger along the worked and worn steel. His finger caught along the gunblade attachment, and he felt comfort in recalling that he'd had a full clip in the weapon when they'd been captured. Knowing the weapon was right there, though, didn't help him in dispelling the unsettling silence of the woods.

He sighed, understanding that he wouldn't escape his terror that easily. He took a few more steps, but then stopped abruptly, his entire body tensing up. His paw flew up to the hilt of the Materia Blade and rested there, ready to draw. He wasn't sure what had just set him off. All he knew was that something had, and it was different from the unnatural silence about him. He stood there, breathing softly through his noise, and listening to the heavy thumping of his heart in his chest.

Then, on instinct, he spun, his blade leaping from its sheath. It cut a trail through the night, flashing as it reflected moonlight, and with a metallic clang, vibrations ran up the weapon. Isaac's trained eyes caught the steely glint of an arrowhead in the moonlight, and then he was moving, running hard.

He went straight for one of the nearest trees. He knew from the angle of that shot that it had come from above, and that so long as his opponent held the high ground, Isaac would be at a disadvantage. Just as he was reaching the base of the tree, though, his ears twitched, and he pulled his head down sharply, feeling an arrow swish over his head and hearing it plunge into the tree's trunk.

The moogle came back up, and placed a foot on the arrow's shaft. Somebody of any of the other races would have snapped it with their weight, but Isaac's sizes allowed him to use it as a step up. He jumped as hard as he could, and then spread his wings, making hard, sharp flaps. He knew that he had to move quickly and get into the branches, or else his opponent would shoot him out of the sky.

This time, he actually heard the bowstring's twang. Apparently his opponent had decided that stealth was no longer an issue, and was now trying to fire harder and faster. The extra moment gave Isaac just enough time to reach for the moonlight within him, and project a silvery glow over his back and wings.

The arrow slammed into his back, and the force of the shot threw him forward so that his chest collided hard with the tree's trunk. He gasped as the air was knocked from lungs, and he began falling. However, he managed to throw his good arm out, and by luck more than anything, he hooked his blade over a branch, and managed to grasp onto it in the crook made by his paw and the hilt.

He remained there for an instant, gasping for breath, before he heard the next arrow being fired. Then, he lugged himself up, swinging his legs forward so that he rolled upwards onto the branch. The arrow flew by harmlessly low beneath him, and he caught his breath, standing perched on the tree. He ducked behind the trunk at an angle he hoped would shield him from the arrows for a moment, and placed his blade beneath his teeth. Then, he reached behind and felt for the arrow that had hit him. He twitched and grunted with pain as he felt that it was still embedded in him, just below his left shoulder. His eyes widened, realizing that the unseen sniper had been aiming to shoot him through the heart from behind. Fortunately, the arrow hadn't gone too deep, so all he had to do was tug the weapon free and drop it.

He took the Materia Blade back into his paw, and took a deep breath. Then, he jumped out from behind the trunk, and began running along the branch to try and connect with another of the trees, slightly closer to where he guessed the shots were coming from. He could already hear another arrow being fired at him. Grunting in annoyance, he dove the rest of the way, feeling the arrow passing just shy of his skin.

He made his dogged and halting path through the trees, hopping from branch to branch and stealing cover wherever he could. It was an odd, almost surreal experience for the moogle, and he had to keep reminding himself to pay attention. The only sounds in the forest as the battle ensued were his own pants and gasps, the rustling of leaves as he shook branches, and the occasional twang and thump of arrows being fired. Beyond that, the forest was quiet, as though holding its breath to observe the duel.

As Isaac drew closer to the source of the arrows, he was allowed less and less time between hearing each shot and dodging. His opponent was good, whoever they were. They managed to keep the arrows coming at a steady pace, but always at the times that he was most off-balance and unable to dodge. As well, they somehow kept their attacks coming at such angles that Isaac couldn't quite pick out where they were coming from. If he could have, he would have already tried firing a few shots off in their direction. As it was, though, he just had a general idea, so he was forced to draw closer.

Suddenly, as he landed from one of his dodging leaps from branch to branch, the moogle caught sight of a small hint of movement through the leaves. Without thinking, he raised his gunblade, and pulled the trigger. The bullet lanced through the foliage, and a quiet but audible feminine grunt rang out in the silence.

Isaac seized upon the opportunity. Knowing his opponent would be slowed in her next attack, the moogle jumped out into open space, heading directly towards the tree he'd seen his opponent on. He spread his wings, and grimaced as the puncture wound in his back gave a painful twinge. However, he forced himself to flap, using all of his power to throw himself forwards.

The moogle watched the tree, and, now that he knew the general area to look, he saw his opponent moving to fire again before she actually sent the arrow out this time. Still flying through open air, he slashed forward with his blade, moonlight reflecting off of its polished edge. The flash of silver grew, and built around the weapon as he swung forward. At the apex of the swing, the moonlight burst forth in a perfectly formed mog lance, the full moon above making it almost perfect.

The silver light parted the branches, knocking leaves free and stabbing through towards the trunk. In the moment before the attack landed, Isaac saw Shara's surprised face in the glare of silvery light as the sniper struggled to pull herself out of the way. Then, the lance glanced off of her leg, before slamming against the trunk. It made a small furrow in the bark, and then went out as the viera let out a pained yelp.

Isaac followed his lance through the foliage, and landed on one of the branches slightly lower than Shara. In the dim moonlight, mostly blocked by the leaves and branches about them, Isaac could barely make out the sniper. She was just a thin shadow slightly higher up than him. He did see a quick movement from her, raising her bow to point at him from only a few feet away.

The moogle jumped back as she released the string. He felt the arrow passing just beneath him, and he let out a sigh of relief. The sigh cut out into a strangled gasp a moment later, though, as a second arrow slammed into his thigh. It only went in perhaps an inch or two, but it still stung, and made his leg give out beneath him as he landed on a branch further back.

He went down to one knee, biting his lip to keep from yelling. He reached down, and ripped the shaft out, dropping it without a second thought. He'd seen snipers fire two arrows at a time before, but never in such difficult conditions. Shara was definitely good; one of the best he'd seen.

Isaac growled a bit, knowing that Shara was probably already lining up another shot from somewhere close, then closed his eyes. He fed the energy pumping through his veins down into his blade, forcing it up and along its length. He felt the weapon respond, and a dull red light pulsed through his eyelids. As it went out, he opened his eyes and looked up again.

Three branches directly above him, he saw Shara with an arrow set to her string. However, she was blinking rapidly, trying to get her sight back after the bright flash Isaac's blade had made. The moogle slashed upwards with his weapon, letting out another mog lance.

The silvery blast went up, but instead of aiming directly for Shara, his attack slammed directly against the base of the branch she was standing on. There was a horrid crack, and then it broke free from the tree. Isaac bit his lip, pushing himself to the side on his bad leg so that he could press flush against the tree trunk as the branch he had severed, with Shara on it, fell past, careening off of branches as it plummeted to the earth below.

Isaac watched the viera falling, and felt a flood of relief when he saw that she had enough presence of mind about her to turn the impact with the earth into a sloppy roll. On trained instinct, she came out of the roll onto her feet, and one of her legs, the one that Isaac had hit with his earlier mog lance, buckled beneath her. She gasped, and collapsed awkwardly against the ground.

Isaac watched, his chest heaving and his eyes wide. She didn't get up, and from where the moogle was standing he couldn't see her moving at all. He watched her for perhaps two or three minutes, waiting for any kind of sign of life.

At length, he started making his way through the branches towards her. She couldn't be dead; he knew that for certain. The fall might have killed a normal person, but a viera, particularly one of her skill, should be able to take it. Besides, aside from the stumble at the end, she had performed the roll perfectly. It might have been that she'd hit her head when she'd collapsed, or maybe the fall had been harder than he thought.

Finally, after quite a long time, during which Isaac favoured his injured leg, trying to fly more than climb to keep weight off of it, he drew close to her. He kept to the trees just in case, climbing out onto a branch about a dozen feet over her to try and see any injuries. With the ceasing of his own movements, the forest was totally quiet again, waiting for him to make his decision.

Then, with no warning, Shara rolled over. Isaac actually had to suck in a cry of shock as she suddenly faced him, an arrow already out of its quiver. In a movement almost too fast to follow, she brought the arrow down, and rubbed it through the blood on her leg. Then, she brought it back to the string of her bow, dripping with her own blood, and fired.

Isaac had no time to react. The arrow slammed into his chest, and he closed his eyes, praying that it wouldn't kill him outright. Much to his own shock, though, he simply felt a dull thud as the arrow slapped against his chest, before bouncing off. He blinked, and stared as the missile fell back to the ground. Had it been blunt? Or had he forgotten about a piece of armour or something else that had caught the blow for him?

He got his answer a moment later. He cried out as pain exploded across his body. Suddenly, there were a dozen or more bruises and scrapes covering him. He threw a paw down to grab at his leg as a gash open up along the side of it, stinging painfully. Finally, a shock of pressure went through both of his legs, all of his bones and muscles straining painfully as though they were absorbing the shock of a great fall. This, combined with the two wounds in his legs, bowled him over and off of the branch, and he plummeted to the ground, landing hard on his back.

He hit hard, the breath getting knocked out of his chest, and tried weakly to push himself to his feet. He had just managed to get a bit of air into his mouth and place his paws against the ground to push himself up when a shadow covered the moon above him.

Shara brought her foot down, and pressed it against Isaac's chest, forcing him back against the ground. He gasped as she put pressure on, and the air fled from his lungs. She held her bow trained on him, an arrow pulled back on the string.

"Not bad," she panted, her chest heaving. There were a few beads of sweat on her brow, and her beautiful white hair was tangled and slick from the fall. Still, she managed to look perfectly graceful as she muttered, "Much better than any of those Palace gunners or mog knights."

"P…" Isaac gasped out, barely able to get the air to make that small noise. Shara cautiously lifted her foot, and the moogle sucked in air. Then, he managed to say, "I have to get to the gorge."

Shara cocked an eyebrow at him, a smirk on her lips. "How does it matter? I thought you were only going there so that the dragoon could kill you. What's the difference between him doing it there and me doing it here?"

"No, kupo," Isaac shook his head, staring up at her with wide eyes. "I'm not… kupo." He lay back for a moment to catch his breath, then went on, "I don't want to die."

The viera nodded. "In that case, you really are trying to get vengeance. You want to kill him."

"No," Isaac replied.

"Then what are you doing this for?" Shara leaned in closer, holding her bow so that the arrow's tip was only a few inches from the moogle's face.

Isaac wheezed, then gasped out, "It has to end, kupo."

Shara was quiet, watching him carefully. Then, at length, she lifted her foot a bit more, giving him more breath. "Go on."

Isaac lay there, breathing hard for a while, before he said, "The war. It's too much, kupo. Too many people keep dying, and so much of it goes back to my friends and I. My life is worth too much right now, anyways. After Foobar died, I…" He stopped to breathe again, closing his eyes before going on. "I don't want anybody else to do that for me, kupo. Nobody else should die defending me or trying to kill Maxwell. So, I'll fight him. I don't know what I'll do yet, but… but Jacqueline's blood is already on my hands, and if one of my best friends actually wants to kill me, I'm just as happy to be dead."

Shara's face remained perfectly still and unreadable as she listened to him. Once he finished, it didn't change for some time, just watching him as he lay there, panting and gasping for breath. At length, though, she carefully eased her bowstring back forward to a resting position, and held the weapon comfortably in her hands. She glanced over her shoulder, and said, "Is that enough, ma'am?"

"It certainly is, Shara. I've heard all I need to know."

Isaac blinked as he heard that voice, and he pushed himself painfully up into a semi-sitting position to stare past Shara. He actually had to look away once, shake his head, and then check again to make sure he hadn't been mistaken. Standing easily amongst the trees, illuminated by the pale moonlight, was the unmistakable figure of Eleonora. The old viera was leaning casually on a staff, and nodding approvingly at Shara.

"Well done. I believe that Sanna's opinion was correct; he can certainly hear silence. That may be the first time I've seen anybody dodge one of your arrows without actually seeing you beforehand, Shara."

Shara nodded, and Eleonora turned her gaze over to Isaac.

"Well, then, congratulatons."

Isaac gaped at her for a good long moment, then sputtered out, "Kupopo?"

"Well, we weren't completely certain about you after the meeting today. It was quite obvious that you were a good person, but we couldn't be sure that you weren't simply fulfilling some suicidal desire. So, we decided to test you."

"So…" Isaac said slowly, trying to wrap his head around it, "you decided that to keep me from killing myself… you would send a sniper to kill me?"

"The best way to test whether somebody wishes to die is to confront them with that possibility." Shara spoke this time, her eyes still intense as she nodded at him. "You clearly don't want to die."

Isaac continued staring. At last, he said, "You didn't want me to kill myself, kupo?"

"Of course not," Eleonora said. "There are few enough truly good people in the world. We couldn't let you just go off and kill yourself."

"And if Shara _had_ killed me?"

"Then you probably wouldn't have won against Maxwell, would you?"

The moogle nodded slowly, eyes wide. Then, he asked, "What happens now, kupo?"

"Now," the elder spoke, "Shara is going to help you to your feet, we'll get you back to the camp, and you'll get healed up and rest. Then, tomorrow night, we'll guide you through the forest, and either find a hole through the Palace forces along there, or make one. Then…" her eyes glinted, "two Ultimates will battle."


	115. Snow

As Isaac and Eileen set out the next evening, there was a sense of anticipation about the camp. It was different from before. They could see small groups of viera getting prepared or setting out, occasionally with a few of the other races accompanying them. Both of them had had their equipment returned to them, and they walked with a good deal more comfort with the familiar weight.

"So… what exactly is this arrangement you've come to again?"

Isaac sighed and rolled his eyes. Eileen had been confused, to say the least, when he'd told her when she woke up that they were, in fact, going to be going to the Gorge that evening. Since then, he had explained things to her countless times.

"They'll try to find us an opening to get through the Palace's patrols along the eastern border, and if they can't find one, they'll make one for us, kupo. Shara agreed to be our personal guide after our battle last night."

"See, that's the part that I'm hung up on," Eileen muttered. "How did her trying to kill you lead to this sudden trust? I thought you didn't like her that much?"

"True," Isaac replied, gnawing on his lip. "Still, at one point I hated Lini so much that I wanted to quit on the Avuir quest to get away from her, kupo. It took her beating me to a pulp for three solid months for me to actually start liking her."

Eileen glanced over at him, cocking an eyebrow. "What are you, a masochist?"

Isaac snorted, shaking his head. "Right, that explains everything. The more you hurt me, the more I like you."

Eileen nodded, keeping quiet for a moment as they moved towards the edge of the camp. At length, she muttered, "Is that… is that what drew you to me?"

"What?" Isaac sputtered, glancing over at her. "I… what, kupo?"

"Why did you first start hanging around with me?" Eileen glanced down, then looked back at him. "You and Ben were already close. Why did you two decide to hang out with me?"

"I… Eileen, kupo, it was thirteen years ago!" Isaac laughed, glancing over at her and shaking his head. "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know, it's just… I'm thinking about a lot of things lately, and I'm just… I'm worried."

"Eileen," Isaac said, drawing her attention back to him. "I'm not going to die tonight, kupo. I trust Maxwell. He won't kill me."

"He already killed Ben, though. What's to stop him from killing you?"

"I've already killed Jacqueline, for exactly the same reason, kupo. If I ever had a choice, though, I know what my decision would be, and I know he would make the same decision. I really don't think he wants to kill me anymore."

"And if you're wrong?"

"If I'm wrong, kupo…" Isaac shrugged. "If I'm wrong, and one of my best friends wants to kill me, I think I'm happier dead."

Eileen stared openly at him, caught off guard by that response. She looked about ready to make a reply, when a voice called to them. They both turned as one, and saw Ritz, Shara, and Eleonora standing by the edge of the trees. The human was beckoning them over, and Isaac started walking immediately. Eileen stared after him for a couple seconds, then shook her head and followed.

As they approached, Ritz said, "Well, it's about time to go. Are both of you ready?"

"We are," Isaac replied, nodding to the three of them. Ritz had pulled on a tight shirt of chainmail, which she wore beneath a cloak. The cloak was a reddish-brown earthy colour, and she had pulled the hood up over her pink hair. The corner of a red ribbon was just visible, tying her hair back so that it wouldn't fall into her face. A worn black hilt protruded from her hip out of the cloak, appearing to be the only weapon she carried. The two viera, though, were dressed as they had been the night before: Shara in her dark clothing with the quiver of arrows at her hip, and Eleonora in her plain clothes without a single weapon.

"So how is this going to work?" Eileen asked, still not fully trusting any of them.

"Shara is going to be with the two of you on the ground," Ritz explained, nodding to her second in command. "She'll be your guide. We did some scouting earlier today, and found a spot where the Palace's forces are thin. The three of you will try to sneak through, and if something happens, Sanna, Eleonora, the rest of my clan and I will be shadowing you in the trees. Selim will have a force in wait a bit deeper in the forests to force a way open if we need it." Ritz bit her lip for a moment, then added, "We can only guarantee a way back for the two of your for twenty minutes. If it takes longer than that, then we run the risk that the rest of the forces stationed in the forest will catch wind, and mass together to attack either us or our base. Idella is remaining behind with a large chunk of our forces just in case, but we'd rather avoid anything involving direct, outright conflict. So, after twenty minutes, we'll assume that something has happened."

Isaac and Eileen both nodded, understanding. Ritz glanced over to Shara then.

"Alright, well, we should get going. Good luck."

Shara smirked the smallest bit, and said, "Please remember the signal."

"I only forgot once."

"Yes, and we lost the engagement. This time it's a bit more serious."

"Don't worry about it," Ritz replied, shaking her head. "I'm not letting my best sniper get captured."

The two of them nodded to each other, and Ritz walked into the trees.

"Good luck with your mission," Eleonora said to Shara, and then turned to Isaac and Eileen. She reached out, and placed her hands on their shoulders, giving a soft squeeze that belied the strength in her arms. First she glanced to Isaac. "Remember, you are a good person. If the Prophecy of Five Bloods is to be fulfilled tonight, I don't know how that will change. Do remember that at this moment, you are a good person, though." Then, she glanced at Eileen, and said, "You have been given the most difficult job, tonight, and afterwards you shall have the most difficult decision to make. You will decide what will happen, and how both sides will take the battle. Think of what both of your friends are doing this for." She stopped, then, and cocked her head to the side, her grey ears twitching slightly. "It will snow tonight. The shifting of the seasons…"

With that, she stood up, and without another word, she walked off into the woods. She walked for a few moments, then abruptly stepped behind a tree, and seemed to disappear.

Isaac and Eileen both blinked, staring after the elder for a few seconds. Then, Shara stepped up beside them, and said, "Let's get going."

The viera set out into the woods, and Isaac and Eileen remained there for a moment. They glanced to each other.

"Snow?" Eileen murmured. "It's still green all across the forest."

"Wouldn't surprise me after everything we've seen here, kupo."

The two of them laughed a bit at that, and then Isaac stepped after Shara, Eileen following close behind.

The trio stepped into the woods proper, and they moved off through the trees. Shara led the two of them, never faltering in her steps. Isaac and Eileen followed as quickly as they could, but even the moogle had trouble keeping up. Even more impressive, though, was the way that her steps made not a sound upon the forest floor. Isaac wasn't sure whether she was just finding ways to place her steps around the fallen twigs and leaves, or if her steps were so light that they didn't cause the undergrowth to move at all. Either way, though, the only sound he or Eileen could pick up were their own heavy steps and laboured breaths.

They travelled for some time, the entire forest growing darker around them. Isaac cast his eyes upwards, and he just caught the silhouette of the moon appearing in the sky. Even dim as it was in the failing sunlight, the perfect circle made was obvious. Yes, this was the full moon; the last one before winter, surely. Whatever was to be decided, it would be decided that night.

After perhaps an hour, the entire forest had grown dark and black, but for the glow of the moon. Shara continued leading them on with just as much ease, showing no sign of stopping. Isaac and Eileen were both growing tense; they hadn't known exactly where they were in the forest, but they both felt sure that they must have been drawing close to the forest's edge.

Then, abruptly, Shara stopped and held up a hand. The moogle and the nu mou instantly halted behind her, and waited for her. The viera stood up straight, her ears flicking about on her head as she listened. Her eyes were locked in the direction she'd been moving, and they both saw her stiffen.

"What's wrong, kupo?" Isaac asked softly.

"The Palace's forces… there are more than there should be."

"Kupopo?"

"There should only be about a dozen people posted up there… they've got over a hundred."

Isaac and Eileen blinked, then stared at each other. After a long moment, Eileen spoke.

"So, what's the plan?"

"Same as before," Shara replied, nodding almost imperceptibly. "I'll try to sneak you in as deep as I can through their defences, and if they notice, we call in Ritz. If it does turn into a battle, though, I want the two of you to start running, and go straight ahead."

"And just leave you behind?" Eileen demanded, and Isaac nodded beside her. "We can help. Just the two of us took down over sixty soldiers."

"My clanmates are some of the most skilled in the art of ambush in Ivalice," Shara replied simply. "They'll be able to handle the Palace's forces. To one unused to their tactics, though, it can be dangerous to be sitting in the area of their fire. Do you understand?" Isaac and Eileen nodded, so Shara went on. "Good. From now on, don't speak unless I tell you to, and follow me closely."

The three of them set out again, but they moved much slower this time. Shara's ears were perked up atop her head, alert for any sign of a sentry. Gradually, before them, they saw the small, flickering specks of campfires in the distance. The light they gave off grew stronger as they made their way forward through the trees, and soon they could see that there well over a dozen of the fires. Eileen and Isaac glanced to each other, and both were sharing the same thought: had Maxwell set them up?

At one point, Shara held up her hand again and came to a stop. Isaac and Eileen waited behind her as she looked around. Then, she lifted up her bow, and carefully drew an arrow from her quiver. She laid it to the string, and then crept carefully forward, peering through the trees. She drew her string back, and waited for a moment. Then, she released the string, and with a swift twang, the arrow was gone. Shara held perfectly still for a good couple of moments after her shot, listening for any disturbances, before she nodded, and gestured the other two to follow her again.

Less than a minute later, they came across the body of a guard, Shara's arrow sticking out from his neck. He lay on the ground with his eyes wide open, the attack having come too suddenly for him to even react. As Isaac and Eileen stared, the viera bent forward to pull her arrow free, replacing it in her quiver, and then she pushed the body under some particularly thick undergrowth. She stood back up, brushed her hands off, then nodded to the other two, setting out again.

Eileen shot Isaac a look, and even in the pale moonlight, the moogle understood it perfectly. He nodded back, saying that yes, Shara had indeed tried to do the exact same thing to him. The nu mou shook her head, and Isaac was sure she would have muttered something if they were in another situation, and then the two of them followed after Shara.

The closer they drew to the camp, the more frequent Shara's stops became. She managed to avoid firing any more shots, much to Isaac's relief, but that fact did little to lift the tension that weighted every one of their steps. Quite soon, they could begin to make out the individual figures standing around the campfires, and a quick glance showed just how many people there were. Shara's eyes and ears were constantly flicking from place to place, keeping tabs on all of their enemies.

Eventually, when they were close enough to just be able to hear the soft crackle of the flames, she stopped, and beckoned Isaac and Eileen to step behind a tree with her. Once they had, she leaned in close, whispering so they could just hear her.

"They've set up this blockade too well. There's no way that I can find a way through for all three of us."

"Then what do we do?"

An expression came across Shara's face, then, one that made Isaac feel more than a bit uneasy. Her lips parted and turned up at the sides, turning into a fierce grin that was underlined with malevolent glee. She reached into a black pouch strapped to her side, and drew out a judgepoint, hefting it carefully.

"We told you, we would either find you a way through, or make one for you. It appears as though we'll be going with the second option. I'll give Ritz the signal, and as soon as the judge shows up, the two of you make a break for it. I'm setting the engagement field to end at the edge of the forest, so once you clear there, you'll be healed and replenished. There's only about two hundred metres left until the gorge. Once you get there, you'll be on your own."

Isaac and Eileen drew out their weapons, Isaac holding the Avuir Blue, and Eileen carefully removing the Zeus Mace from its binding. They glanced to Shara, and she nodded to both of them, letting her eyes linger on Isaac.

"Are you ready?"

Isaac took a long, deep breath. Watching him, Eileen realised with a start that the confidence he had shown earlier hadn't been sincere. He'd only been saying it for her own benefit. For a moment, she had an insane desire to turn to Shara and tell her to cancel the operation, and to call off the whole thing. Before she could, though, Isaac let his breath out.

"I'm ready, kupo. Let's go."

Shara nodded, then murmured, "I declare an engagement."

The judgepoint flashed for a moment, and even as its glow dimmed, Shara was jumping out from around the cover of the tree, and raising her bow. She placed an arrow to its length, and released it, yelling, "Now!"

Isaac and Eileen broke cover, and at once, both of them started running straight for the campfires. Ahead of them, they saw one of the figures gathered around the fires go rigid, before collapsing with an arrow protruding from its side.

Immediately, people were jumping up, and weapons were coming out. One figure, identifiable as a nu mou from her silhouette, began yelling orders. Within a second of her beginning, Isaac and Eileen heard a sharp twang from behind them, and something whizzed over her heads. The nu mou's voice choked off abruptly, and she too crumpled to the ground.

All of the assembled group turned to face the direction that the arrow had come from, and suddenly, over a hundred armed guards were standing before Isaac and Eileen, watching them approach. The two of them almost stumbled in their steps upon seeing it, wondering whether the viera had decided to sell them out and let the Palace deal with them.

Just as they were about to stop and bolt for cover though, a strong, feminine voice roared from somewhere up ahead. Abruptly, dozens of arrows and several blasts of magic launched out from the trees surrounding the camp, converging down upon the soldiers' heads. Confusion and shouts broke out throughout the camp, and several more soldiers dropped beneath the hail. A few voices called out, trying to formulate some sort of a defence.

That same voice, now identifiable as Ritz's, called out again, bellowing some order that Isaac and Eileen missed. Another volley of arrows and spells cascaded down from the trees, this time only coming from those on the left side of the camp. Immediately, all of the soldiers turned that way, raising bows and preparing spells to launch back into the trees there. One human, who must have been some sort of a commanding officer, raised a hand, and prepared them to fire.

Just as he was about to lower the hand and give the order, a dozen viera rushed out of the trees on the right, perfectly silent. All of them carried rapiers or katana, and they fell upon the soldiers' exposed and unprepared backs. Their weapons flashed out, dropping an entire line of soldiers' forces before they even realised they were being engaged.

The soldiers were just turning to face this new threat when Isaac and Eileen emerged out of the trees and into the light of the campfire.

The two friends rushed straight forward, knowing their best bet would be to push on directly through the pack. As they drew close, Eileen raised her hands and called out, "_Mehr Aufflackern!_"

Flames erupted from the earth beneath the feet of the soldiers, centred around the densest group. Those unfortunate to be caught directly in the flames were instantly consumed, falling almost instantly. All the others that were anywhere close to the blast were lifted into the air and launched back, directly into their companions.

This allowed Isaac an opportunity to pull out ahead of Eileen, and rush into the thin, confused line of enemies that stood between them and their path before the nu mou. He jumped as he drew close, the magic of the Avuir Blue speeding both the leap and his arm. His strike clove through a bangaa's breastplate as though it were no more than a shirt, and ripped through the other side. As the bangaa collapsed, Isaac landed, flashing out a mog lance towards a moogle a few metres away who was in the throes of spellcasting.

Isaac heard Eileen coming up behind him, and started running again, directly through the enemy's forces. He kept his grip on the Avuir Blue tight, just in case he should need it, but for the most part he focused on the running. He noticed an enemy viera turning and noticing him and Eileen. He began raising his blade to fire a bullet at her, but before he got the chance, a pair of forked tongues of lightning leapt down from the trees and slammed into her. Her body, smouldering and crackling, was thrown out of his path, and Isaac made a note to thank Ritz for her support if he survived this.

Shaking his head to get such thoughts out of his mind, he raised his blade instead towards the few soldiers before him that had managed to avoid the confusion, and were now squaring off to block him and Eileen. He closed his eyes for a quick moment, then opened them, and squeezed the trigger on the Avuir Blue's hilt several times. One bullet for each of the soldiers before him launched from the gunblade, each one finding its mark. Immediately, the soldiers turned on each other and began fighting in earnest, not even noticing as he and Eileen rushed past them.

The two of them were clear now. Isaac risked a quick glance back at the nu mou, and his eyes widened a bit as he saw the orange and gold flames dancing across her, and the blood dripping from her mace's head. She caught his eye, and nodded to him.

Seeing that Eileen was alright, he turned his gaze forward again, making for the safe darkness of the trees. He did his best to keep going in a straight line, judging by the sounds of battle behind him. He would have had much more trouble with moving at such a high speed through the woods if it hadn't been for the light of Eileen's magic, illuminating the woods for a few metres around them perfectly.

Then, abruptly, after perhaps a minute of running, the trees disappeared around him, and his feet slapped against a hard stone surface instead of the grass, roots and undergrowth of the forest. He stopped, catching his breath, and turned around. Eileen was just behind him, just as confused as he was, it seemed. They looked, and saw to their surprise that the forest ended sharply along a line a few metres behind them. There was no gradual decline or middle grown; one moment there were towering trees and undergrowth, and the next there was open and bare rocky ground.

Isaac and Eileen looked to each other again, then turned their gaze to the direction they'd been heading. Not a hundred metres before them, they could just barely pick out the end of the ground, parted by a massive gorge that spanned at least another hundred metres across. They would have missed it entirely if it hadn't been for a soft, flickering yellow glow along the walls.

Isaac began taking a step towards the gorge, a heavy feeling in his chest as he guessed what was causing that flicker. As he finished his step, though, he stopped, surprised to feel an odd pinprick of cold on one of his long ears that disappeared a moment later. He would have shrugged it off, but then he felt another identical chill through the fur of his left paw. He cocked an eyebrow in confusion, then, hesitantly, looked up.

Large, heavy snowflakes were drifting down through the sky. He blinked, staring as more and more of them began landing on him, sending small shocks of cold through him. They melted on contact as they touched against the ground, still somewhat warm from the day's sunlight. However, he knew that soon enough the ground itself would grow cold under the soft onslaught, and it would become fully covered in the stuff. Similarly, Isaac could feel himself already growing cooler, the fat flakes actually remaining on him for a moment before turning into cold drips of water and soaking into his fur.

The moon hung up in the air, still, peering down from a space between two of the large snow clouds.

Warmth spread across Isaac's shoulder, surprising the moogle. However, he didn't make any physical reaction, still staring up at the sky and the thousands of flakes now falling. Eileen's hand squeezed on his shoulder.

"Are you alright?"

Isaac didn't answer for a moment. Then, he murmured, "The last time I saw it snowing like this, kupo, was when I was walking home the night we were sent here. Since then, all the snow I've seen has been whipping into my eyes on mountains, or soaking through everything while going through clouds on airships, or wet and disgusting slush that made the path more difficult…"

The moogle fell silent, still watching the snow. Eileen didn't respond for a long while, and then, at length, she gave his shoulder another squeeze.

"You don't have to do this. If you want, we can just leave right now, steal an airship, leave Ivalice behind, and find somewhere else to live. We don't have to do any of this."

"Yes we do," Isaac replied, his voice quiet and emotionless. "This all has to end. No more death or destruction because of this war. We have to end it, kupo."

Eileen nodded, and without another word, the two of them began walking through the gathering snow. The sounds of the battle behind them had faded away, disappearing from their minds with the snow. At last, they reached the edge of the gorge, and looked down into it.

Far below, standing in the middle of the gorge, they saw the unmistakable form of Maxwell. He had a torch that he'd set on the ground, and it was this that was sending the flickering light along the walls of the gorge, tainted yellow by the amber. Maxwell's shadow flickered over the far wall, casting a large swathe of blackness across the otherwise illuminated gorge. The bangaa was standing as he always did: straight backed, the Materia Blade on his back, and a spear held at his side. As they reached the edge of the gorge, he looked far up at them, and, after a moment's hesitation, nodded.

Isaac nodded back, and placed his foot on the edge of the gorge. Just as he was about to step off, though, he stopped, and looked to Eileen.

"Eileen…"

"Don't say it," Eileen cut him off. Isaac cocked an eyebrow at her, and she went on. "People only say those kinds of things when they think they're going to die. So, save it. Tell me when you come back up here."

The two stared at each other for a long moment. Then, Isaac just nodded. He swallowed, and said, "I'll come back, kupo."

Then, Isaac turned, and jumped off of the ledge. His wings spread wide, and he began circling down, deeper and deeper, drawing closer to Maxwell and that flickering torch. All the while, the snow brushed over him and kissed his skin, now caught between melting and soaking over him, and remaining in its perfectly cold and crystallized form to coat his body.


	116. Mog Knight and Gladiator

There was silence as Isaac descended, cutting wide circles in the falling snow. All the while, Maxwell's eyes followed him, watching his shadow grow larger as he dropped lower.

The bangaa showed no emotion the entire while. Occasionally, he would sway his spear in his hand, but little more than that. Even when Isaac finally came down and got to his level, folding his wings and landing easily, all the bangaa did was give a stiff nod.

The two of them stood there, staring at each other, then. The only sound was the crackling of the torch, and the occasional sputters as snowflakes landed in its flame. As they sized each other up, Isaac could feel Eileen's eyes, watching them from up on the edge of the gorge.

"You made it," Maxwell at last said, nodding slightly.

"We did, kupo," Isaac replied, nodding back evenly. "There were a few close calls, though."

"Wasn't easy to sneak out of Ambervale and get here without being noticed, either. We'll have to do this quickly, before anybody can come and interrupt."

Isaac nodded again. The entire thing felt surreal. The simple, business-like manner in which they were discussing it was beyond him. Still, he wasn't exactly sure how he ought to be talking to Max right now. He'd never been in a situation like this before. At length, he tried speaking.

"Can't we work this out, kupo?"

"We've already said everything that needs to be said, Isaac," the bangaa said sharply. "You believe something I know to be wrong. We're at an impasse, and in order for either of our sides to succeed, one of us has to die. Logically, this battle is our best choice."

"We're about to fight each other to the death, Max. Logic doesn't exactly apply, kupo."

"Only because you won't listen." Max heaved a sigh. "Eileen's theory is flawed. Besides, I've already told you that I'm doing this for us."

"And I'm doing this for _everyone_, kupo," Isaac shot back.

"Is that what you tell yourself whenever you think about Jacqueline?"

Isaac actually flinched, stung by the comment, and he couldn't stop himself from biting back. "Sometimes. Do you tell yourself you're doing it for us whenever you think about Lini or Ben?"

Maxwell, too, flinched, his face darkening and his grip tightening on his spear. Isaac raised his blade slightly, preparing himself in case the dragoon decided to attack. The two remained like that, tense and staring at each other, for a long couple of minutes. It was Isaac who broke the silence.

"Sorry."

Max took a long, deep breath, then nodded. "Me too."

Isaac watched the bangaa, trying to read him for a moment, to see how he was feeling. At length, though, he simply asked, "Shall we get started, then?"

Maxwell nodded again.

They both sized each other up briefly, waiting for the other to attack. Their stances were more relaxed, now, but both of them knew how deceiving they could be.

Maxwell's wrist flicked upward on his spear, and his legs bent, lunging forward suddenly. Isaac jumped back half a step, and swept the Avuir Blue out in front of him. It rang off the spear's head, sending shocks up both of their arms.

The bangaa turned with the block, using the momentum to speed a quick strike at Isaac with the butt of the spear. Predicting the blow, Isaac took another half step back, and the weapon passed through empty space. The moogle jumped forward at Maxwell then, seeing the bangaa off-balance and out of position to block.

Maxwell winced, and braced himself for the strike. He stopped his spear's momentum and brought it back at Isaac, hoping to maybe lessen the moogle's strike. He was surprised, though, when he didn't feel the Avuir Blue biting at his skin.

His spear's butt dropped down, and rang hard off of metal. As Maxwell came around, he saw that Isaac was blocking the backhand with his blade, but even in that brief view, the dragoon knew it was shaky.

Seeing a chance, he stepped in closer to the moogle as he turned, and jabbed his spear's shaft out. He lowered the weapon as he swung it, and slammed the shaft against Isaac's hamstrings. The moogle called out, and tripped over backwards, landing hard on his back. The Avuir Blue slipped from his paw and clattered to the ground several feet away.

Maxwell finished his turn, and brought the spear to a halt. Then, he lunged down at the moogle with it. Isaac's eyes widened, and he moved to push himself back. It was too slow, though, and both of them knew it.

Suddenly, just as the tip of Maxwell's spear touched against Isaac's throat, it stopped. Isaac had to keep himself from jumping, as he felt his Adam's apple bobbing towards the tip. His chest was heaving awkwardly with his adrenaline, his back pressing flush to the ground to keep from stabbing himself forward.

The bangaa was silent. His hands were steady as they clenched the metal shaft, keeping the heavy weapon from moving at all. At length, he spoke, his voice rough and low.

"Stop holding back."

Isaac didn't move, and Maxwell stood there for a few moments longer, breathing heavily through his nose. Then, carefully, he pulled the weapon away from Isaac's throat, and backed up, allowing Isaac to get to his feet. The moogle's eyes were trained on him, reading his movements. Then, his paw went to his shoulder, and he drew out the Materia Blade in a smooth motion.

Isaac twirled the hilt in his paw for a few seconds, readjusting himself to the weight. Maxwell watched on, not speaking.

Then, suddenly, Isaac's fingers clamped down on the worked steel, and he lunged forward. Maxwell, caught by surprise, brought his spear around into a hasty block. It was shaky, though, and the bangaa had to take a step back to make it hold.

Isaac pressed his attack, his blade flashing back and forth and ringing against the spear's shaft. Maxwell was backed up step by step, giving ground faster than he had in any battle he could remember. The moogle's steps were placed perfectly, his blade hammering in with just enough force for Maxwell to feel it, but not quite enough for the dragoon to mount a proper block.

The moogle pulled his blade back suddenly from a blocked strike, and then twirled it back around and upward, smashing it into the bottom of the spear. The force of the blow made Maxwell raise it slightly, and in that moment, Isaac took advantage of his opening. He took a step forward hard, and bunched his muscles. Tucking his arm into his side, he rammed his shoulder into the bangaa's stomach.

Maxwell, already off-balance from his retreat, stumbled back, the air knocked from his lungs. He tumbled back, and his spear flew from his hands to clang against the stone floor. The bangaa himself landed hard on his back, biting off a grunt of pain at the impact.

Isaac took one more step forward, and placed his foot squarely on the bangaa's chest. Then, he glanced down at him, his eyes cool.

"_You_ stop holding back."

Maxwell didn't respond, and so after taking a moment to catch his breath, the moogle lifted his foot and stepped back. Maxwell got up, and rolled his shoulders, stretching himself out. Then, he, too, drew out the Materia Blade, and the two of them waited, glaring at each other.

Isaac reached up with his bad paw, and slipped it under the strap of his sash. Seeing what he was doing, Maxwell nodded, and also began removing his own sash. They both held the red leather packs, each heavy with judgepoints, away from their bodies, and as one, they dropped them.

Up on the ledge, Eileen took a deep breath, knowing that this was when it would truly begin.

Both of them moved at once, the moment the sashes touched the ground. The dull thump the two packs made was almost inaudible over the sound of steel on steel, the blades crossing and scraping violently off of each other. Isaac and Maxwell barely held the position before the dragoon slipped his hand back, then jabbed it forward in a stab at the moogle's face. Isaac ducked hard, bending his ears back against his skull as the tip brushed through the fur on their edges. Having his opponent off-guard, the moogle rushed forward beneath the blade, and swept his blade out at the bangaa's legs. Maxwell predicting the attack from the moment Isaac had dodged, was already leaning forward and pushing off with his feet. With little difficulty, he jumped, pulled his feet in, and somersaulted over the short moogle.

He rolled up to his feet as he landed, taking him a few feet away from Isaac. He turned quickly, though, holding his blade out in front of him just in case. This turned out to save him, for as he turned, he saw a flash of silver light coming towards him. All he had to do was tilt his blade somewhat to deflect the mog lance, and then, knowing Isaac would use the attack to mask his own charge, the bangaa swept his blade out blindly in front of him.

Isaac had to jump back to avoid the slash, barely avoiding the direct attack. As he landed a couple feet away from Maxwell, he saw the bangaa sucking in a deep breath. Knowing what was coming already, Isaac braced himself, watching the bangaa leaning forward. As soon as he opened his mouth, Isaac dove forward, rolling across the ground as lightning exploded from the dragoon's jaws.

A few stray bolts managed to arc down and jolt the moogle, but otherwise he was fine. He came back up to his feet directly in front of Maxwell, his teeth chattering somewhat with the bit of extra electricity, and brought his blade around at the bangaa's side.

Maxwell's own blade came around surprising fast, blocking the attack solidly. Isaac tried to back up, but wasn't fast enough as the bangaa lifted his foot, smashing it against Isaac's chin.

The force of the kick lifted Isaac from the ground and sent him flying clear across the gorge. The moogle managed to ball himself up, holding his throbbing chin, and flit his wings just enough to force his feet to be facing the wall. As he hit against it, he bunched his legs up, absorbing as much of the impact as possible. Pain arched up his legs, and he almost collapsed back against the amber wall. However, he somehow managed to keep himself together, and looked back up at Maxwell.

The bangaa had already run and retrieved his spear, hefting the heavy weapon up easily with one hand. He took a step towards Isaac, who was still standing against the wall to absorb the impact, and then jumped.

From the moment Isaac saw his feet leaving the ground, the moogle cursed, and forced his legs to kick off from the wall, working his wings madly. Maxwell thundered in, his spear still trained on the struggling moogle.

Just as it approached, though, Isaac's wings gave one, last, desperate flap, and he rolled with the action. The movement let him pass just over the spear's tip, and he kept rolling over the shaft. Maxwell's spear slammed into the hard amber of the wall, and the surface cracked and gave under the force of the blow, embedding the spear a foot into it.

Somehow, Isaac managed to right himself in the air, and placed his feet on the narrow length of metal beneath him. Maxwell was too surprised by the dodge to even react as Isaac ran out along the shaft towards him, before using the bangaa's head as a step. He slammed his foot down as hard as he could on Maxwell's snout, and then kicked off and out into the air, his wings working to carry him away from the bangaa.

Maxwell shook his head, then with incredible strength and agility, he wrenched himself up and around until he was balancing on his spear's shaft, still embedded in the wall. He turned to face Isaac, and saw that the moogle had his blade pointed downward towards him. Predicting the attack, Maxwell raised his own blade.

Isaac's finger pumped the trigger on the hilt of the Materia Blade, and with a series of hollow clunks, he fired a full round of bullets down at the precariously balanced bangaa. Maxwell took a deep breath as they approached, and then began twirling his blade, managing to rotate it around him in perfect blocking circles while his own feet remained firmly planted on the spear. Sparks erupted all around him as he blocked the shots, accompanied by sharp metal tings. He finally stopped, holding his blade out to his side to aid his balance, and silently added up in his head.

Nine shots… he'd blocked nine. Didn't Isaac's clips hold ten?

He got his answer a moment later as pain erupted in his nose. He yelped, the force of the strike turning his head and destroying his precarious balance. His feet slipped from the spear, and he began plummeting. He just managed to throw a hand out to grab the shaft, keeping himself dangling in the air.

Panting, the bangaa reached up with his other hand, clamped around the Materia Blade's hilt, to brush its back against his nose. To his own surprise, he felt something warm and wet dribbling from a shallow scratch across the bridge of his snout. He glared back up at Isaac, still flapping and floating in midair. He'd improved his guns' firepower, apparently.

Seeing Maxwell looking up at him, Isaac simply shrugged, and flicked a switch on the edge of the Materia Blade's hilt. The ammo clip dropped from the butt, and fell through open air, cutting a path through the snow. After a few moments, it clattered against the ground, its shadow flashing through the light of the torch far below.

Isaac carefully replaced the clip by slipping the hilt into the ammo pouch at his side, and then nodded down at the bangaa, waiting for his move.

He didn't wait long.

Maxwell suddenly yanked himself up and around with his hand on the spear, placing his feet against the wall. His other hand sheathed the Materia Blade at his side, and then he grabbed the spear in both hands. All of his muscles tensed and bulged out along his body, and then he ripped the weapon out of the amber. There was a deafening cracking noise, and then the spear ripped loose of the wall, tearing several large chunks of amber away from the wall with it.

The bangaa leaned back, his legs tense and his toes digging into the wall. Then, he pushed off hard, and went up into the air, directly at Isaac.

Isaac prepared himself as the dragoon thundered in towards him, tensing his muscles and holding the Materia Blade ready. He waited until Max was almost upon him, and then he tilted his wings, rolling hard through the air and flashing out with his weapon. It rang off of the bangaa's spear, narrowly deflecting the strike wide of him. Maxwell flew on by Isaac, his course only lightly altered by the impact, while Isaac spun sideways, out of control for a few moments. He flared his wings out, though, and managed to bring himself to a halt, before turning to face Maxwell's retreating figure. The moogle gave a few more hard flaps to steady himself, and then raised his gunblade, firing off another full round of bullets after the bangaa.

Maxwell was predicting the volley. As he closed with the gorge's far wall, he turned hard, using his spear to control his momentum. As soon as he was facing Isaac, he began twirling his spear, rolling it from hand to hand and around over his wrists. The bullets sparked off of the weapon, and were deflected off to disappear in the falling snow. Maxwell braced his legs, and touched against the wall, his spear still twirling. His previous momentum kept him stuck against the wall for a few seconds, allowing him the time to deflect the last of the bullets. Then, without hesitating, he jumped again.

Isaac braced himself for another exchange, but was surprised when he saw that the bangaa was aiming too high. He understood as Maxwell drew closer, though. He saw the bangaa's chest filling with air, and his eyes widened, knowing what was coming. Instantly, he stopped flapping, and as he dropped, he summoned moonlight to cover his body.

Maxwell finally passed overhead, and lunged his head down at Isaac. Flames erupted from his mouth, and fanned out towards the plummeting moogle. They roared down and washed over him, and Isaac had to bite his lip as the flames licked at his fur. The moonlight kept them from inflicting too much damage, but Isaac still felt the fire biting into him violently. He flailed his blade upwards blindly, and he felt moonlight burst from its tip.

His mog lance slashed upwards, parting the flames and cutting a path through it for him. Maxwell gaped in surprise as it closed quickly with him, and just managed to lean his head out of the way. It still bit deep into his shoulder and part of his chest, though, and several fat drops of blood got mixed in with the falling snow as he finished the rest of his jump.

The two of them took a momentary breather after this one. Despite his smouldering fur, Isaac was managing to keep himself level as he flapped in place. Admittedly, his flaps were a bit faster and bit less powerful than before, but otherwise he seemed to be handling himself well. Maxwell was keeping himself leaned against the amber wall, grasping at a handhold as he eyed the floating moogle. He was carefully working the arm connected to his hurt shoulder, checking to make sure that it could still function. He reached down with it, and gingerly squeezed the hilt of the Materia Blade at his hip. A small wince crossed his features, but he shook his head, bracing himself against the pain.

The two of them kept staring for a few moments longer as the snow fell around them.

Then, Maxwell tensed, and Isaac's wings flicked. The bangaa threw himself at the moogle again, and Isaac swooped down and out of the way. Maxwell slammed against the far wall, and not even pausing, he leapt again, slightly lower at the flapping mog knight. Isaac dodged lower again, and then, for almost half a minute, there was a horrible crashing rhythm as Maxwell launched back and forth between the walls. Each time that he hit the wall, there was a horrible groaning sound, and small splintering cracks could appear in the amber. He kept his movements up, slowly driving Isaac downward in progressively lower dives and dodges. The moogle's wings and chest were burning with exertion as he forced them through the sharp and sudden movements. On top of that, the narrow walls caused all of the noise to echo back, so that soon there was nothing but a horrible roaring completely surrounding the two combatants.

Finally, Isaac's feet touched against the ground, and he stumbled slightly on the landing. He sucked in deep gasps of air as he was finally able to rest the aching muscles in his wings. However, he knew he wasn't done yet. He glanced up, and saw that Maxwell had just finished his previous jump, his legs braced against the wall about four feet from the ground. The bangaa glared at him, and then jumped directly at him.

Isaac threw himself out of the way, hitting the ground hard in a roll. Even as he was doing this, though, he felt the horrible displacement of air as Maxwell passed by just behind him. The dragoon touched his feet to the ground, and turned, sliding along the earth for several more metres. He passed right by the torch during his movement, and the incredible amount of air displaced by his movement caused the flame to flicker, before dying.

For a long, terrible moment, there was perfect darkness within the gorge. Then, Isaac and Eileen clearly heard Maxwell drawing his blade. At once, within the gorge, a pair of flames sprung up. Maxwell fire swordspell glimmered in his hand, casting a small aura of light around him, even as Isaac's weapon, charged with a fireshot, licked at the night air.

The two rushed at each other, and brought their flaming brands down upon each other. Flames burst from both weapons where they met, splashing off almost like water and lightly burning both of the warriors. They didn't let it deter them, though, and they slashed at each other again and again, their weapons dancing in burning lines around them. All of their strikes were faster, and even when they dodged the attacks coming at them, they felt the secondary, burning air rushing over them. Eileen, standing and watching from the edge of the gorge, couldn't even tell them apart at that point; they simply looked like a pair of burning lines, weaving through the darkness.

As their weapons parted for a moment at one point, one of the weapons' light flickered for an instant, and the flames went out. An instant later, though, lightning burst from its length, making for a more concentrated and intense light. Just as quickly, the other's sword followed suit, and their weapons met with a sharp crackling. Jolts of lightning burst from the point of contact, scattering across amber and scales and fur. Again, though, they didn't let it hold them back, and they kept up their incredible pace of combat, neither of them really gaining an advantage.

As they continued fighting, they shifted often from lightning to fire, making the light in the amber gorge go from dim and constant to intense and flickering at a moment's notice. Eileen had no idea how the two of them kept going, never stopping for a moment's breath. Both of them were beginning to feel the side effects of their fighting: the burns from fire and electricity, and the numbness running up their arms from the constant shock of steel on steel.

Then, abruptly, at one point, one of them changed the game. They had been fencing with lightning, and were just performing one of their confusing and inexplicable switches over to fire. As one weapon burst to life, though, the other's light dimmed drastically, becoming an almost invisible, pale blue glow. The two weapons rang off of each other, and abruptly, the blue mist and the flames died together, cancelling each other out.

The two stopped then, staring at each other across their crossed weapons. Neither was entirely sure how long they'd been fighting at that point. That said, the effect were clear to see. Both of them could smell the horrid reek of their burns in the air around them, and the soft pinpricks of cold as snowflakes landed on their scalding flesh hurt far more than they should have. Both were far worse for wear: Maxwell had a long, arching burn mark on his right leg from where the flat of Isaac's blade had hit him, sending lightning through him. There was a bizarre mark across Isaac's chest where a deep cut from Max's weapon had instantly cauterized, sealing the injury with its own destructive powers.

Both stood there, chests heaving, and not moving for a long time. Then, Isaac rasped.

"Max…"

"Wait."

Isaac stiffened at the bangaa's tone. "What?"

Maxwell's face showed confusion as he stood there, staring at Isaac. Then, he murmured, "It should be far too dark for us to see each other without a fire."

Isaac kept staring at the bangaa for a moment, not comprehending. Then, his eyes widened too, and as one, they pulled their weapons away from each other, and they glanced away from each other, looking around the gorge.

Both stopped at once, back to back, to stare at a curious sight. Not too far in the distance, coming from both sides of them, there looked to be dozens of very small glimmering lights, bobbing softly in the darkness a couple feet from the ground. Both of them simply stared as they watched the lights gradually approaching, moving very slowly. The two were too exhausted from their fight to process what they were.

As soon as Eileen noticed what they were staring at, though, it clicked in her mind, and her tail went stiff, all her fur standing up in fear. She rushed forward until she was leaning dangerously over the edge of the gorge, and yelled down to them.

"Get out of there, those are tonberries!"

Maxwell and Isaac both froze up for a moment upon hearing that. Even as they did, though, the figures approaching them came into view in more detail. Dozens of short, hunched over, hooded figures. The lights they had seen had been coming from their small, pale lanterns. Now that they were closer, the two could also see the dim light coming from their orange eyes, peeking out just beneath their hoods, and the tiny glints their knives gave off, reflecting the light of their lanterns.

The two of them were still for a long, horrifying second. Then, Isaac spoke softly, but quickly.

"Grab your spear, and let's get out of here, kupo."

Wordlessly, Maxwell rushed over to where he had discarded his weapon. Isaac lit up his blade again, this time simply to shed some light for the bangaa. Maxwell returned, and the tonberries were still a good twenty metres away.

"Alright, let's go."

"You go first, kupo. Your jump will mess up the air currents for my flying. I'll be out right after you."

Maxwell nodded, then turned, and jumped. He rocketed up, and out of sight. As soon as he was gone, Isaac too jumped. He began flapping his wings, but almost immediately, he and Eileen heard Maxwell's voice coming from the far edge of the gorge.

"Wait, who are… no! Isaac!"

Confused, Isaac turned towards the sound as he flapped. His ears twitched as he heard a few soft flitting noises, and then, suddenly, pain exploded across his body as arrows thudded into him. One hit him square in the stomach, while another skimmed his leg. The worst one, though, given the situation, was the single arrow that tore through one of his thin wings and passed through the other side.

Eileen watched in horror as Isaac yelled, and instantly he fell back to the ground, balling up and roaring in blind pain. She was about to call out to him, when suddenly, torches sprung to life on the far side of the gorge. She looked up, and simply stared.

A small group, maybe number twenty in total, stood along the edge. Ten of them were holding bows pointed down into the gorge, clearly having just fired. As well, there were another eight or so who were hanging off of Maxwell as the bangaa roared and struggled against them. She could see that one soldier was lying with Maxwell's spear embedded in his chest, and a few others had bruises and scratches on them already from the mighty bangaa's struggling.

Most horrifying of all, though, was the tall woman standing slightly removed from this struggle, watching on with an amused grin. Even from that far away, and with the small amount of light given off by the torches the group carried, Eileen could easily make out her long, flaming red hair and piercing green eyes.

And so it came to pass that, as Isaac lay bleeding out on the floor of the gorge with tonberries descending on him and Maxwell roared and flailed with bloodlust, Eileen saw Queen Remedi for the first time.


	117. Turning Points

Isaac groaned, wrapping his fingers carefully around the shaft of the arrow in his stomach. He could already feel the blood bubbling up, warm and sticky in his fur. Whenever he moved, he could feel the arrow's tip, digging inside of him.

Slowly, shaking, he looked up, still sheltering his stomach. He could just see the dozens of flickering lanterns, moving gradually towards him. Dimly, he could make out the soft thump of the tonberries' steps as they advanced.

Barely able to think, he let his gaze wander around the rest of his surroundings. Whenever he looked at something, there was a long moment of confusion as he tried to process it. The Materia Blade was lying right next to him, snow sizzling whenever it touched against the still-hot metal.

The moogle let his eyes wander a short while longer, before they picked up something lying on the stone a few metres from him. An odd splotch of red. When he first saw it, he assumed it was either his own or Maxwell's blood. As it came into focus, though, he noted that it seemed to be standing out from the rock, slightly, as though it were crumpled. He strained to understand, the twinges of pain coming from his stomach habitually destroying his concentration.

Then, abruptly, he realized what it was. A sash. Either his or Maxwell's, dropped before they began their duel. Having a judge present wouldn't heal his current injuries, but at the very least it would counter whatever the tonberries did to him.

Isaac checked the tonberries' position again. They still looked to be a good few metres away from him, stumping slowly forward. In his current state, Isaac wasn't even sure if he would be able to crawl. It was his only chance, though, so he reached down with his good paw and grasped the arrow's wooden shaft. Biting his lip, he tightened his grip, and then in a sharp movement, snapped the shaft off close to the entry wound.

A rough, strangled yelp escaped his throat, and he balled up again, his leg kicking as pain rocked him. Soon enough, though, the shock kicked in again, and the pain dulled.

Shaking, Isaac reached out with his good paw, and grasped onto the rocky ground. Clenching his paw, he began pulling himself forward, keeping his eyes fixed on the sash.

* * *

"You weren't ssssssupposssed to know!" Maxwell roared, still struggling against the soldiers holding him. They had his arms and legs pinned so that he couldn't get a strike off at them; however, their holds were all shaky, and it was obvious that the bangaa could break free at any moment.

The queen shook her head, watching his struggles. At length, she gestured over Maxwell, and gave a nod.

Pain exploded in the back of the bangaa's head, radiating out until he could feel it all throughout his skull. His legs buckled, and stars danced in his vision as the guards finally managed to drag him to the ground. He could just barely see the guard that had hit him standing over the fray; a tall monk with a heavy pair of knuckles.

"Will you be still, now? I do hate damaging my own general."

"I'll tear you apart mysssssself!" The bangaa blinked, clearing his vision, and kept struggling with the guards that were now lying across his body, exerting their full weight on him. He writhed, and actually began to lift himself up beneath the press.

The queen pointed down at the guards holding him, and, with a small flick, uttered a command. There was a bizarre cracking noise, and suddenly Maxwell felt the guards holding him down stop moving. He looked at them in surprise, and he would have jumped if he could move.

All of the guards had turned to stone. From a distance, it looked as though the rock had actually reached up and grabbed the bangaa, pulling him partway into its depths. From up close, though, Maxwell could clearly see every detail on the former guards. One of them had been petrified looking down at him, the human's face locked into an aggressive snarl for eternity.

For a few moments, Maxwell kept struggling, seeing if he could slip out or break the rocks. However, they held steady, and eventually, he was forced to admit defeat, glaring up at the queen. When he spoke, it was one word:

"How?"

Remedi smirked again, her green eyes belittling. "Oh, Maxwell, I took you for being cleverer than that. I _gave_ you the power that you used to speak with Isaac and Eileen. Did you think I wouldn't be able to see what you were saying? Besides, you were speaking through dreams, which I hold dominion over."

Maxwell collapsed back into his rocky prison. He kept glaring at the Queen, but inside he was overwhelmed by disbelief. She'd known from the start. She must have been planning it for the past month.

Seeing the despair on the bangaa's face, the queen shook her head again and laughed. "Oh, Maxwell. You've been a most troublesome pawn. Extremely powerful, and fully devoted to the cause, yes, but you have a few too many of your own ideas. Not to mention, thus far, you've failed utterly in defeating a single moogle. Now I can't have a disobedient and weak general, can I?"

Maxwell kept his eyes locked on the queen, still hissing with rage. "If you think killing Isssssaac will remedy either problem, you're sssssorely misssstaken."

"Oh, no, dealing with Isaac is just an added bonus that comes along with accomplishing that goal," the queen said amicably. Seeing the bangaa's confusion, she smiled, and asked, "Tell me, Maxwell: what do you know of the Worldwyrm?"

* * *

Eileen stood on the edge of the gorge, gritting her teeth as her eyes moved from Isaac to Maxwell, and back to Isaac. There weren't any paths down into gorge or bridges spanning it anywhere nearby. Besides, she didn't exactly have enough time to get to either of them.

She bunched her fists at her sides, and glanced back over her shoulder into the Nubswood. She wondered whether she would have enough time to go back and call in the viera. However, even as she considered it, she realized it would be impossible. Not only would it take too long, but the viera would refuse to take part in such an open attack on the Palace's forces.

No, anything that would be done, she would have to do herself. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. There was no way she could get a spell all the way across the gorge to Maxwell. He would be on his own. Isaac, though? Well, him she could help.

The nu mou opened her eyes, and suddenly, the night dimmed around her as orange and gold fire burst out upon her skin. She looked down into the gorge, and saw the tonberries slowly growing closer to Isaac. There was still enough room, though.

Eileen raised a hand to the heavens, and murmured beneath her breath, "_Meteorit_."

She brought her hand crashing back down. As she did, fire erupted in the sky, gathering force and speed as it descended. By the time it passed parallel with Eileen, it was a fully formed meteor, plummeting down the length of the gorge until it exploded amongst the front ranks of the tonberries.

Not even waiting to see where it landed, Eileen raised her other hand, and cast the spell again, bringing another meteor thundering down into the gorge. She wasn't sure how long she could keep up this level of casting; short of Ultima, meteor was the strongest spell in her arsenal. However, she knew that she had few other options. None of her other spells had enough range to reach to the base of the gorge.

And so, Eileen kept casting, and fire rained from the sky down onto the tonberries' heads.

* * *

Isaac had just about given up when the first meteor landed. He was finding it increasingly difficult to get a handhold with his shaking and blood-soaked paw, and even when he did, his arm was having more and more difficulty summoning the strength to actually pull himself forward.

He had just laid his head down on the stone to give up when there was a roar, and then warm, billowing air washed over him. The ground jumped beneath him, and the roar grew in strength for a horrible instant. Then, it was gone, and all was quiet but for the crackling of flames. The moogle looked up in a confused haze, and was shocked to see a large, still flaming stone where one of the closer tonberries had been. Two tonberries that had been standing close to it were now crumpled against opposite sides of the gorge, their cloaks in flames and their lanterns shattered on the earth.

Isaac didn't understand for a moment. It took until the second meteor slammed into a pack of tonberries on his opposite side that he finally understood what was happening. Eileen. She was covering him.

Giving a silent thanks for his friend, he heaved himself up a bit, and reached for another handhold, his legs kicking at the earth to push him closer to the sash.

* * *

"The Worldwyrm?" Maxwell said, staring at Remedi in confusion. "We killed it four yearssss ago."

"You destroyed the body, yes," Remedi nodded, speaking patiently, as though to a young student. "A creature as powerful as that, though, has a certain spiritual energy that doesn't just disappear. Especially one with such an incredibly potent and focused rage."

"What about it?"

The queen opened her mouth to respond, but stopped abruptly as an incredible roar sounded from behind her. Even she looked slightly surprised as she stood up and glanced over her shoulder. Then, she smirked, and shook her head. "It appears that your nu mou friend is trying to interfere with the tonberries. I'll have to see to that."

"Don't touch her!" Maxwell snapped, straining at the petrified soldiers again. "I'll—"

"What?" the queen cut him off, eying him. "Yell at me more? My, I am terrified."

Not waiting for his response, she walked away from him, and disappeared from his line of sight.

* * *

Eileen paused for a moment in her spellcasting to reach up and wipe the sweat from her forehead. She was breathing heavily, now, having sent off a good eight or so spells by this point. She could feel her fingers beginning to shake from the effort, and she knew that soon enough magic exhaustion would be setting in.

Shaking her head, she looked back up to prepare for another spell. As she did, though, she caught sight of the queen. The human had turned away from Maxwell, and was now facing her squarely. The intensity of her glare gave Eileen pause for a moment, and the nu mou found herself preparing her defences just in case Remedi should send something her way.

Then, the queen began walking towards her. This wouldn't have been too odd, if it weren't for the fact that when she reached the edge of the gorge, she kept walking. Eileen stared for a moment, not comprehending. She was floating. Her feet were still walking as though they were on solid earth, but there was nothing supporting them.

Most frightening of all, though, was the fact that the queen's eyes were still locked on Eileen.

Realising that the queen had changed targets, Eileen brought her hand up again, summoning another meteor. It appeared above the monarch's head, and then thundered down, following the path of Eileen's hand. When it was about a metre from Remedi's head, though, the meteor glanced off, as though it had hit a barrier, and flew wide into one of the gorge's walls.

The queen stopped, still halfway across the gorge. Then, she pointed at Eileen, and said, loud enough for the nu mou to hear, "You know, I think I'll let Maxwell handle you."

She flexed her fingers for a moment, and suddenly, Eileen felt like a jacket of solid steel had been dropped onto her shoulders. Her legs buckled beneath the weight, and she fell to all fours, her limbs shaking as she tried to remain standing. With great effort, she looked up at the queen, still floating above the gorge.

"This world is but a dream," the queen murmured. "And, so, it is mine to control as I wish."

Eileen's eyes widened as she stared at the queen, the sentence ringing in her mind.

"Controlling dreams…?"

Anything further the queen might have said, though, Eileen missed. The nu mou collapsed to the stone, the force of gravity pinning her down beneath its weight.

* * *

Isaac noticed the halt in the meteors, but he didn't give it too much thought. Eileen had sent down quite a few; he wouldn't be surprised if she had collapsed from exhaustion by now. Still, it looked as though she had bought him enough time. He could clearly hear the tonberries' footsteps around him now, no more than two metres away, but the sash was in his reach.

Just as his paw touched against the red leather of the sash, though, he heard something that didn't fit with what he knew to be around him. The tonberries' footsteps were all soft and clumping, muffled by the long robes they wore. The footstep he heard at that moment was loud and sharp, clacking hard against the stone. In confusion, the moogle made a laboured effort to look over his shoulder, trying to figure out what had made the sound.

A woman with brilliant red hair was slowly bending over where the Materia Blade had fallen, and was lifting it up. She passed it from hand to hand, examining it with a relaxed casualness. After a moment, she seemed satisfied, and turned to Isaac. It was then that he saw her intense green eyes, and he recognised her at once as Queen Remedi.

"You don't mind if I take this, do you?" she asked, and then she cocked an eyebrow, as though grinning at some secret joke. "Well, I guess you'll have no use for it in a few moments, will you?"

Isaac was too weak and confused to reply. As her words clicked in, though, he looked about himself, and with a start he realised that the tonberries were almost upon him. Grunting with effort, he pulled the heavy sash closer, forgetting the queen for now. He managed to slip his paw into the pouch, and he felt two of his fingers closing around a judgepoint.

As quickly as he could, he drew it out, and held it up. His voice raspy in his ears, he began the command. "I declare an—"

His voice cut out into a yelp of pain as suddenly, the queen's foot slammed down, crushing his wrist against the stone. Fortunately, he didn't feel anything breaking. However, the pressure forced him to drop the judgepoint, and it fell limply to the stone. Moving efficiently, the queen brought her other foot around and slipped it into the sash's strap. She gave a sharp kick, and the leather sack was flung several metres away. Then, she brought the Materia Blade around and ran the judgepoint through on its tip. Isaac stared up at her, pinned by her foot and his injuries as she carefully plucked the card from the blade, and tore it to pieces.

"Hmm… a good plan. Too bad you couldn't pull it off." She let the fragments of the judgepoint fall, and disappear amongst the rocks. Then, she smirked down at him again. "You know, I've let you inside of my barrier. That's the only thing keeping the tonberries back right now. You have me defenceless. Striking me down would score an instant victory for the rebellion. Can you do anything about it?"

Isaac stared at her, eyes wide. The fingers on his pinned paw flexed for a moment, and he tried to lift it. Although his paw and arm shook with the effort, he couldn't push the queen's foot up a single inch.

"That's what I thought." Remedi smirked at him, then stood up, glancing around her at the dozens of tonberries, kept at bay a metre around them in all directions. "I'll be merciful, though. These tonberries will kill you before you have to watch Maxwell kill Eileen."

"He wouldn't, kupo." It took a good deal of effort for the moogle to say the words, and he could feel a hot, painful wetness in his lungs as he forced the air out. He tried to go on, but found it too difficult, so he just slumped down again, panting.

"Right now, no, I'm certain that he wouldn't," the queen nodded. Then, she hefted the Materia Blade, and gave it an easy twirl in her palm. "Thanks to you providing me with this, though, I think he just might."

Isaac had no idea what she was talking about. However, he could tell that the queen was entirely certain that she was right, and from all he had seen of her thus far, he didn't feel inclined to doubt her. It wasn't just his own life, now; it was Eileen's, and possibly Maxwell's as well.

And as he lay there, knowing that the arrowhead in his stomach and the tonberries around him had already sealed his fate, he thought of both Ben and Jacqueline, and he remembered them as he'd last seen both of them.

Enraged.

Desperate.

Terrified.

Unimaginably powerful.

"Famfrit," the moogle managed to gasp out, and the queen glanced back down at him curiously. The moogle took a painful breath, and then growled out, "Famfrit, your avatar calls you. I need your strength. Exact your price, kupo, and lend me your power."

There was silence for a few long moments after the moogle spoke. His words, barely audible even to the queen, were caught up in the soft wind and lost amongst the snow.

Then, abruptly, Remedi threw her head back, and let out the most terrifying, inhuman laugh that Isaac had ever heard. She sucked in deep gasps, shaking her head as the whoops burst from her. Her voice echoed off of the walls, and for several long moments, she remained like that, hugging her arms around her stomach as tears of mirth fell down her cheeks.

Finally, she managed to calm herself, and shaking her head, she wiped a tear from her eye. "How perfectly adorable."

"It should've worked," Isaac gasped, staring at her. "It…"

"It was an honourable attempt," the queen nodded, her chest still shaking occasionally with small, internalized laughs. "Unfortunately, as I'm sure Maxwell has told you, Eileen's theory is wrong." She crouched down, and looked him directly in the eye, holding her face very close to his. "You are not Famfrit's avatar. You are just a crippled, pathetic moogle who is about to die, alone and unable to save your friends."

Without another word, she stood, and turned away. She glanced up the gorge, and her feet lifted from the ground. As she levitated upwards, Isaac heard that horrible, soft, rhythmic thumping of the tonberries' feet again.

An instant later, the moogle felt a cold hand grabbing his right shoulder. He looked over sharply, and saw the green-skinned fingers of one of the tonberries pressing through his fur. Another tonberry grabbed his other shoulder, and as one, they hoisted him up.

Isaac bit his lip as pain shot through his stomach from the lodged arrow. He panted, hanging heavily in the tonberries' grip. His own legs were too weak to support his own weight at this point.

Finally, he managed to lift his head, and he met the glowing orange eyes of another tonberry, peering at him from beneath its ragged cloak. The moogle's eyes were instantly drawn down to the glimmering knife in his hand drawn back to strike.

He barely had time to see it before it rammed forward, tore through the skin covering his chest, and embedded itself into him. For a moment he was in shock, unable to feel or understand anything.

Then, purple flames erupted from the wound, racing over the moogle, and he threw his head back. He screamed until his voice broke.

* * *

Maxwell stopped struggling as he heard the scream, his entire body freezing up. It went on and on, longer than the moogle's body should have been able to hold out. The bangaa didn't even notice the queen as she levitated up out of the gorge, and touched down right next to him. His body was limp, his eyes wide as he listened to the horrible sound. He could just see the intense flashes of purple light jumping from the gorge as the tonberries worked their deadly magic, but beyond that, all he had was the scream to tell what was going on.

When Isaac's voice finally broke, it petered on for a few more seconds before it went silent. Then, there was not a sound made throughout the entire gorge. Maxwell swore he could hear the individual snowflakes touching the ground during that time.

The first noise Maxwell heard was Eileen, somewhere across the gorge, letting out a strangled sob. That was all it took to break the spell. The queen glanced over in the nu mou's direction, and then grinned down at Maxwell.

"Well, then. You don't seem to be too rebellious anymore."

"Just kill me."

Remedi cocked an eyebrow at him. "Oh? Not curious to figure out what I meant about the Worldwyrm?"

"I don't care," the bangaa growled, glaring up at her. "Strike now."

She ignored him, and went on. "You know, I've seen the battle between your friends and the Worldwyrm several times. Many of them have relived it in their nightmares since then. I can recount the entire battle to you in great detail, if you'd like. I know it would be of great interest to you, seeing as you didn't take part." She waited for any response from him. However, he didn't speak; he didn't even move in his rock prison. "Well, the most important part to remember is that only four weapons during the entire battle were wetted with the Worldwyrm's blood. The first two were the spear and knightsword of the bangaa known as Robert of Clan Nutsy. He actually used to be one of the guards in Bervenia, before he rebelled and deserted. Sadly, both of his weapons were destroyed with him when Llednar struck him down in Cyril. Another weapon that was touched by the great wyrm's blood was the arrow that slew it: however, it was destroyed upon impact. That leaves a single weapon still in existence that touched the Worldwyrm's blood, and that weapon," she hefted the Materia Blade again, glancing at its length carefully, "is in my hand."

"What of it?" Maxwell muttered, fixing his eyes on her again. "You have a weapon that hurt the Worldwyrm. It's been years since that battle. There's no blood left on that blade."

"True," the queen nodded, running a hand carefully up the length of the weapon. "However, the life essence of a beast of as much power as the Worldwyrm carries weight. In the same way that the blood of an Ultimate on the earth leaves an everlasting and profoundly powerful mark, the aura of the Worldwyrm's energy remains imprinted in its blood, and on anything that's touched its blood."

Maxwell stared up at her, beginning to catch on. His mouth hung open for a few seconds, then he murmured, "Are you planning to resurrect the Worldwyrm?"

"No, Maxwell. That goes beyond even my skill. Clan Nutsy made sure to dispose of its body after the battle, and I can't just create a new body from nothing. That, however, is where you come in. You see, most dragons today are far too weak to hold the spirit of the Worldwyrm. They're simply watered down versions of the old, great dragons. However, thanks to the power that Adrammalech bestowed upon you, your physiology is remarkably similar to that of the old dragons."

The bangaa stared at her in open horror. "You're saying that you're going to use me—"

"As a host for the Worldwyrm's power, yes," Remedi nodded, smirking. She ran her hand along the length of the Materia Blade again, but this time, she did it much more slowly. As her hand dragged along the metal, Maxwell saw an odd distortion of light gathering at the tips of her fingers and moving along towards the tip. The queen continued speaking as she gathered the distorted light. "Your mind will still exist, and it will still be your body. However, the Worldwyrm's energies will cause such great rage to consume you that you will probably go insane as a result. You'll be the perfect tool, the perfect living weapon for my designs. Think of it. A bangaa, blessed with the power of the ancient dragons by Adrammalech, infused with the energies of the Worldwyrm, and a wielder of Ultima. Can you imagine a force greater than that?"

"You were planning this from the beginning…" Maxwell murmured. His mind was working slowly with the amount of information, and although he wasn't moving, he felt dizzy. "This is why you recruited me in Muscadet… so I would bring you that blade, and you could use me!"

"Yes, Maxwell. You've been a most marvellous pawn. Entirely willing to sacrifice your own morals so long as I kept dangling that hope in front of you, that belief that I would save your friends. Unfortunately for you, though, I don't serve you. I serve the prince." As she said it, she finally pulled her hand away from the blade. Hanging in the air above her open palm was a concentrated sphere of bent light and energy, all swirling around a dark, central nexus. It was impossible to see through it, the light and the darkness too confusing to make any sense of.

She knelt down in front of him, looking him directly in the face. He stammered, and began writhing in the stone's clutch, trying desperately to pull away from her.

"I serve the prince," she repeated, whispering the words. "And I will do anything to ensure his happiness."

With that, she lunged her hand forward, palm down, through a space in the rocks. The distortion moved with her hand, and sunk into Maxwell's chest. The bangaa's eyes went wide, and his struggling increased drastically. A low growl built in his throat, and he bit his lip as he fought the stone and the energy rapidly flooding through him. The veins along his muscles bulged out, and blood ran from his lip his teeth sunk into it. He clamped his eyes shut for a moment as his entire body vibrated, trying to hold it in.

Then, abruptly, he threw his head back, and roared. He pressed against the stone, and it immediately cracked and fell away from him as though it had been no more than sand.

Maxwell pushed himself forward, getting onto his knees. Then, he looked very slowly up, his eyes opening to glare and take in everything around him.

The queen watched him getting his bearings, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Now, for a small test. She knew that he had the power and the rage of the Worldwyrm, now, and that it would be clouding his judgement. Would it be to such an extent that he would attack one of his friends, though?

Smirking, she reached over to the guard that Maxwell had struck down when had first jumped up to the ledge, and yanked the spear free from his gut. She wiped the blood off on her robes, and then held the shaft forward so that it was right in front of the dragoon's vision.

"Maxwell," she whispered. The bangaa started, and turned to glare at her. His eyes fixed on the spear, though, and he stared at it for several long moments. The queen kept speaking. "Your enemy is on the other side of the gorge. The nu mou. She's already tired. Striking her down… it would make an enjoyable diversion, wouldn't it?"

The bangaa kept staring at the spear for several long seconds, the fixated expression on his face not changing. The queen was just beginning to question whether he had heard her when he spoke, his voice low and hissing.

"It mosssssst cccccertainly would…"

He reached out, and took the spear in his hand. She released it, and he stood up carefully, stretching his body out for a few seconds. Then, he glanced across the gorge, to the nu mou still collapsed against the stone. Mentally, Remedi released her spell, and corrected the force of gravity upon the nu mou.

"Oh, and Maxwell?"

He looked back at her, fury contorting his features at having been interrupted.

"Just a suggestion," the queen remarked coolly, not at all intimidated. "Don't let her remove the ring on her left hand. It would prove… troublesome."

The bangaa snorted, but nodded. Then, Maxwell took a step forward, and jumped. As his feet pressed off against the ground, the amber and stone splintered, spreading out into a spider web crack under the pressure.

The queen's smile widened as she felt the billow of wind set off by the bangaa's jump. Yes… this could work.

* * *

Eileen didn't notice the weight leaving her until a few moments had passed. She was still pressed to the stone and amber, her head just hanging over the side to stare. She'd seen it all. The tonberries hoisting him up while another performed the attack. The moogle's body writhing in agony, purple flames consuming. And then, the horrible, morbid moment when he went his voice broke, and his entire body went limp, his eyes fluttering shut. Worst of all had been how his voice had continued its weak, agonized scream for several seconds after he had collapsed. Finally, when his voice died out, the tonberries released him, and he collapsed to the ground with an almost inaudible thump.

And now, the two that had been holding him up had grabbed one of his hands each, and they were dragging his body away as the tonberries departed. She couldn't even try to cast a spell to slow them down, or to somehow recover his body. It had taken all of her effort just to crawl the foot or so to the edge of the gorge.

It wasn't until she suddenly felt a shuddering impact in the amber right next to her that she realized that that weight had left her body. She turned her head, and saw a bangaa's foot and leg next to her head, still crouched from landing a jump. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Maxwell? How did you…"

Her voice died in her throat as her eyes rose and saw his face. There was nothing different about it, physically at least. The features were all completely the same, unchanged from his sharp cheekbones down to the tip of his long snout. However, all it took was a single look at his eyes to know that this was not her friend.

The eyes didn't look like those of a person. They reminded her more of an animal, desperate and hungry.

"Max…?"

In response, he lifted his spear in both hands. She yelped, and rolled as hard and as quickly as she could. The weapon still grazed her side as it slammed down, tearing a small gash in her skin and ripping through the stone beneath her.

She kept rolling, and managed to bring herself up to her knees, favouring her wounded side. She still had the Zeus Mace in her hand as she pointed at the bangaa, and yelled out, "_Wasser_!"

An orb of water blasted from her hands and slammed directly into the bangaa's chest. The blast, which would have had enough force to break the bones of any other person, simply splashed off of him and dripped to the ground as he ripped his spear back out of the stone.

He lunged forward aggressively at her, and she threw herself to the side, nearly stumbling with the violence of her own movement. The spear still managed to tear a hole through her robes, and the weapon held her in place for a moment. That time was enough for Maxwell to remove one hand from the spear's shaft, and clamp it shut on solid air. Immediately, a blade of lightning jumped form his hand, and he brought the spellsword in hard at Eileen's side.

The nu mou saw it, and the small amount of melee training she had made her turn with the blow on instinct, no doubt saving her life. The weapon still tore a deep gash into her side, and sent powerful jolts of electricity through her body in waves. She cried out as she fell back, her robe tearing free from the spear in the process.

She stumbled back a few steps, shuddering occasionally as the lightning worked through her. Miraculously, she managed to keep on her feet though. After a couple steps, she managed to find her footing again, and stood, panting hard. She raised her free hand to cast a spell, but was horrified to see that Maxwell was already upon her. Cutting herself off, she instead blurted out, "_Wind_!" the easy and familiar spell's incantation coming easily to her. She brought the whirlwind up just in front of her, hoping to use it as a barrier against Maxwell, and then raised her mace.

Without hesitation, the dragoon rushed through the wind, shrugging it off as though it were nothing. As he pulled in close with Eileen, he swung his spear wildly with one hand, smashing it into the Zeus Mace. Eileen's block was thrown out far to the side, and she had to wrench her wrist to keep the weapon from flying from her grip.

Then, Maxwell stepped in close to her, and brought his unarmed fist forward to slam into her stomach.

For a few seconds, everything went perfectly white in Eileen's vision, and she felt nothing. Then, abruptly, she realised that she was flying backwards through the air, her body flailing. The last thing that she felt was the incredible, sharp pain radiating out from her stomach.

She hit the ground hard, and the Zeus Mace was torn from her grip as her body dragged along the ground for another few metres. Finally, she came to a halt, and she balled up, gasping to try and fill her empty lungs. She could feel the small supper she'd had earlier trying to vacate her stomach, and it took all of her concentration to keep from vomiting as she writhed there on the ground.

And then, suddenly, there was a whooshing noise, followed by a heavy thump, and then Maxwell was standing over. Working more off of animal instinct than rational thought, she kicked her legs, trying to push herself away from her as she regained her breath. The bangaa simply placed a foot on her chest, though, and pressed her back down.

He glared down at her, and in that moment, Eileen couldn't recognise her friend in that face. He was simply a monster, something from her deepest nightmares come to life to haunt her daylight hours. Through a daze, she noticed his chest rising, and his shoulders rocking back. The small bit of her rational mind that was still working told her that he was preparing to blow dragonfire at her, and it probably wasn't the normal rush of flames that he used in combat. It would be his devastating jet of flames, the true dragonfire that Adrammalech had gifted him with.

The only thing she knew of that could repel a blast of that strength was Ultima. She had seen Lini use it to save Isaac from the Worldwyrm, her sluggish mind recalled, not at all concerned with her current predicament. If she could pull off a blast of Ultima, she would be able to block the attack. She'd lost the Zeus Mace, though…

Almost in slow motion, she watched Maxwell begin leaning forward, his shoulders rocking down towards her. He was opening his mouth, and she could see the intense light building in the back of his throat. It would be so easy to just closer her eyes, let that light roll over her, and let it end there. She could let it happen, and the fighting would be over. The pain, the fear, the guilt… all of it could…

No.

As she saw the fire beginning to roll forward from his mouth, she threw both of her hands up towards him. She focused her whole being on her palms, and bit her lip until it bled.

Then, without any build up or warning, everything was there, circling around her open palms, leaning in towards her. Time, light, space, life, it all heeded her call and amassed about her, materializing into a hovering, unstable orb of everything in her hands. As the fire surged out of Maxwell's mouth, Eileen used the last of her breath to gasp out a single word.

"Ultima."

The energy exploded from her palms, rushing out to meet Maxwell's dragonfire. The flames fanned out around the central orb of power, splashing out to the sides and licking at Eileen's robes slightly. It held like that for an instant, before abruptly, all of that fire turned back beneath the weight of Ultima, and a minor explosion erupted from the point of contact between fire and Ultima.

While Eileen's hands held the force of the blast back from her, Maxwell had no such barrier. The fire pouring from his mouth cut out as he roared in surprise, and was lifted bodily from the ground. The energy washed over him, and sent him back, airborne. He flew halfway back to the gorge, before slamming hard against the ground and rolling several times with the impact. He managed to come back up to his feet, and slid along for a few more feet as his toes dug deep tracks in the amber. At last, he came to a halt, right on the edge of the gorge. He was in a tight crouch, and smoke was rising from all over him. Burns covered his clothes, and there were even a few dark streaks along his thick scales. He stared up at where Eileen lay, caught completely off guard. Had the nu mou actually managed to master Ultima right at that moment?

His shock was short lived, though, as he noticed that Eileen now lay prone, and the rage began taking hold of his mind again. Well, she had evaded him once, but now she was at his mercy. He smirked as he began advancing on her.

When he was still several metres away from her, though, a voice spoke, and the bangaa froze, staring up at its source.

"You are Maxwell, aren't you?"

Just on the edge of the forest, a few feet away from Eileen, there was an elderly viera. She had her head tilted slightly to the side, and she carried not a weapon on her. Even from there, though, Maxwell could tell that she was reading him, trying to understand him. He growled.

"What of it?"

"Does this mean that Isaac has fallen?"

"The mog knight issssss dead."

The viera didn't react for a moment. She simply remained there, watching him. Then, very softly, she said, "You know, from all of the descriptions I've received of your from Ritz, Shara, , Isaac, and Eileen, you are quite a disappointment."

"What?"

"They spoke of a proud and noble warrior who had infallible faith in his ideals. That's not what I see before me."

Maxwell regarded her for a long moment, clearly unsure of what to make of her. Then, without warning, he bunched his legs, let out a long, low hiss, and lunged out at the viera, spear leading.

Before he had moved a foot, there was a flash of red, and then a rapier was ringing off of his spear. He just managed to catch sight of a girl, long red hair fanning out around her as she spun, before the weapon rang hard off of his spear again. He took a step back as the girl lunged forward at his face, continuing the intense routine, and was forced to take yet another step back as she lunged again.

Maxwell gave ground quickly for the first several seconds, always keeping just out of range of the thrusting rapier. Then, abruptly, as the girl moved to send a swipe at him, he twirled his spear in a blindingly fast movement, and slammed it into the base of the weapon's blade. The girl's weapon arm was sent out far to the side by the force of the blow, and she stumbled a bit to keep from losing her grip on the hilt. Using this moment of vulnerability, Maxwell brought the butt around to slam into her chest.

Ritz stumbled back, and collapsed to the ground, holding her chest and gasping for breath. The entire exchange couldn't have lasted more than a few seconds, but it had been more than long enough for the Red mage to realize that she was outmatched. She began pushing herself backwards, and he looked about ready to follow, when a voice stopped him.

"Maxwell, it seems we have some interruptions, don't we?"

At once, Maxwell froze, and he turned to face the source of the voice. Behind him stood the queen, in all her terrible glory. Her green eyes looked past Maxwell, and landed on Ritz. A frightening grin crossed her face.

"My my my. Ritz, isn't it? You're another of my son's friends."

Ritz stared at her, her mouth hanging open for a few seconds. Then, she finally managed to stammer out, "S-so you're Mewt's mother?"

"I certainly am. I had hoped that you and your viera friends would help me to protect my son's world. However, it looks as though you've come down on the other side, doesn't it?"

Suddenly, Eileen murmured something. Everybody stopped to look over at her, and then Eleonora, for that was who the old viera was, stepped forward and knelt down next to her.

"What was that?"

"Le-grimm…"

Eleonora nodded calmly as she heard this. Then, she stood up straight, and her eyes met Remedi's. The queen was giving a mildly impressed glance to Eileen, but she quickly drew her attention back to Eleonora as the viera fixed her with a cool stare.

"Ritz, you gave orders for the troops to not follow us, did you not?" the viera didn't let her eyes leave the queen's green orbs.

"Of course. You told me to."

Eleonora nodded, remaining calm. However, everybody noticed her muscles tightening slightly as she sized up the queen.

"You're at the disadvantage," the queen said simply, nodding to Eleonora and then Ritz. "Maxwell is more than a match for the mage, and you can't hurt me."

"Can't I?" Eleonora asked.

Something about her tone gave Remedi paused. She sized the viera up briefly, clearly uneasy about her intentions. Then, she said sharply, "Maxwell. Kill her."

Maxwell lunged forward, lightning fast. The attack was so sudden and unpredictable that Eleonora didn't even try to dodge as the spear thundered in at her.

Just as it would have hit her, though, there was a tremendous roaring, and then a streak of blue fur launched from the woods to slam into the bangaa's side.

Maxwell cried out and rolled with the impact, managing to throw the creature off of him in the action. The monster, now clearly identifiable as a coeurl, landed easily on its feet, and then growled at Maxwell, sizing him up.

The dragoon stared. Then, deciding he wouldn't question it, he lunged out again, stabbing with his spear at the cat. As he closed with it, though, there was an odd flash of light. Then, for an instant, a roughed up male nu mou stood where the panther had been. He slapped a palm down onto one of the orbs tied around his waist, and then in another flash he was gone. Maxwell stumbled through the space that he had been occupying a moment earlier, and then stared around in surprise.

The beating of heavy wings drew his attention upwards. His eyes widened as he saw the red scales and the single, staring eye of an ahriman glaring down at him. The creature flashed out violently with its claws at the dragoon, and Maxwell had to raise his spear to block the blow. The creature flapped hard, and began lifting off of the ground, carrying the bangaa with it.

Maxwell growled, and gave a heavy shake of his head. To the surprise of all of the watchers, an odd wave of blackness rolled off of the bangaa as he did so, washing forward to slam into the ahriman. The creature's single eye creased in pain, and it released the spear, letting Maxwell drop to the ground. It flapped a few more times to pull away from the harmful bangaa, and then hovered for a few moments, regaining its bearings.

Maxwell's legs bunched up the moment they touched the ground. He lowered into a crouch, absorbing the impact, and then jumped forward again, launching himself towards the ahriman, who was now a good ten or so metres in the air.

As he closed in, though, the ahriman flashed with light again. For a moment, Selim was suspended in the air, gravity having not quite caught up to him yet. He brushed his hand down, and laid his fingers across another of the orbs just as Maxwell's spear drew close to him. There was another flash, and suddenly, there was a small and lithe figure in red where he'd been a moment before. The goblin lunged forward, and grabbed onto the shaft of the spear coming at it, using its incredible agility to swing around the shaft and flash its small knife out at Maxwell.

As Selim and Maxwell kept up their battle, Eleonora spoke, drawing the queen's attention back.

"I could kill you now if I wanted."

The queen stared at her in surprise. "How?"

Eleonora pointed over at the duelling pair. "Several hundred years ago, the Ultimates of the moogles, humans, nu mous, and viera died here. I could summon Rammuh and obliterate both Max and Selim in the same moment. Maxwell's death would fulfil the Prophecy of Five Bloods, and then it would take a single spell to destroy you."

Remedi stared at her in shock. Then, she gave an uneasy laugh, and said, "You wouldn't."

"Don't take me for a sentimental fool." Eleonora's eyes narrowed as she glared at the queen. "I would sacrifice both of their lives if it meant I could save many others from your single-minded evil. Now, it is your choice. Either call off Maxwell and retreat, leaving us and the rest of the viera be, or let your prince's world crumble to dust about him right now."

The queen kept watching Eleonora for a few moments, searching for any hint of a bluff. Ritz, busily tending to Eileen's wounds, stopped to watch, holding her breath.

Finally, Remedi sighed, and glanced back to the battle. The two of them were back on the ground, now. Maxwell had a giant blue wyrm pinned to the ground, but both of them were still clawing and biting at each other violently.

"Maxwell," she said, "halt."

The bangaa stopped his struggling immediately. However, he remained on top of the dragon, glaring down into its face. Everybody could hear the aggressive hissing coming from both of them as they lay there, each one twitching occasionally with unreleased aggression.

Finally, Maxwell managed to gasp out, "Yessssss?"

"We're returning to Ambervale."

"What?" the bangaa glanced over his shoulder at her, and though he spoke normally, his face was fully that of an animal in that moment. "I'm closssssse… ssssssssso clossssssse to tasssssssting hisssss blood. I want to…"

"Maxwell," the queen said, her voice stern. The dragoon flinched, then shook his head. Finally, he managed to push himself up to his feet. He had a few more small scratches from his battle with the morpher, but nothing else to show for it. As he stood, the queen began walking away. He followed obediently behind her, and the two of them walked off into the night, but not before a last remark from the queen.

"I hadn't taken you for being such a ruthless leader, Eleonora. Either way, I've struck a major blow tonight. And Eileen, do say hello to Marche for me."

The dragon flashed as they left, and then Selim lay on the ground, panting hard in the snow. After a few moments, he managed to pull himself up to his feet. He glanced over to Eleonora, and nodded, barely managing a small smirk.

Eleonora nodded back, then turned to Ritz and Eileen. "Get her up. I want us to be back home before daybreak."

Selim and Ritz helped the exhausted nu mou up to her feet, and then the quartet set off wordlessly into the woods. They went on for several minutes, not meeting anybody, and nobody saying a word all the while.

After about half an hour of walking, though, they stopped as Eileen slumped down, her exhaustion overcoming her again. She sat down, and Ritz began casting weak healing spells on her. Selim began looking around the clearing, where part of the battle in the forest had clearly taken place. Eleonora simply stood, her ears occasionally flicking to listen to something or other.

"H-how long…"

Selim and Eleonora turned at once at the sound of Eileen's voice. She had managed to sit up on her own, and she was panting heavily from the effort of speaking.

"How long for what?" Ritz asked, keeping her glowing hand on the nu mou's bleeding side.

"Until I can walk."

Ritz glanced up at the two elders with a questioning look. Both of them nodded to her, so she shrugged, and said, "Probably by tomorrow night, after you've had some rest. Why?"

Eileen nodded. Her eyes were vacant and wandering, clearly focused somewhere else. As she spoke they couldn't tell whether it was the magic exhaustion, or something else that was drawing her away. "I have to get back to Clan Nutsy as quickly as possible."

"Why Nutsy?"

Eileen turned and fixed Eleonora with a glare. "All of you are never going to attack Ambervale, are you?"

Selim and Ritz both looked to Eleonora as well, waiting for her answer. After several long moments of thought, the viera simply shook her head, keeping her eyes fixed on Eileen's.

"Well, then you can't help me. I need somebody who's going to attack them. That… that thing… I'm going to tear it apart."

"You're dillusional," Eleonora said softly, trying to calm the alchemist. "Once you've had some sleep—"

"I'm _not_ dillusional!" Eileen yelled back, trying to stand for a moment. Dizziness overcame her, and she was forced to collapse back down to a sitting position again as she glared at the viera. "The palace has taken everybody I loved from me. I don't care if I have to spill my own blood to fulfil some prophecy or kill every guard in Ambervale. I'm going to kill Queen Remedi, and that thing that's in Maxwell's body with her."

She glared up at Eleonora for several long moments, daring the viera to try and dissuade her. The viera didn't reply though. She simply watched the nu mou with entirely passive eyes, not making any judgement.

"You should sleep," the viera finally said, nodding to Eileen. "Once you've had a bit of rest, we'll go the rest of the way back to the camp. We'll heal you there, and then you can go along your way. Realize that you're no longer welcome in the Nubswood once you've left, though."

"Good riddance," Eileen muttered. "I've lost enough here already."

This last statement seemed to drain the last of the nu mou's reserve, and she lay back, closing her eyes. Eleonora watched her for a few moments, then turned and walked swiftly out of the clearing.

She had not gone long before Selim caught her up.

"Is that it?"

"Yes."

"We let her go?"

"Yes."

"And we banish her?"

"Yes."

"Why, though? Why not either help her or stop her now? Why don't we take an active stand in this madness?"

"Because," Eleonora rounded on the morpher, glaring, "what you just saw back there was not a simple Alchemist, or any kind of a leader. That was a person with nothing left who has allowed their own hatred to consume them." Eleonora allowed this to sink in, then added, "Not to mention, she's an Ultimate. That nu mou is dangerous. I won't have her around my people, and neither will I send brave warriors out to follow her."

Selim digested this slowly, going over all of it in his head. Then, he simply murmured, "War is coming to Ivalice, isn't it?"

"Yes. As soon as the snow melts, war will come." Eleonora sucked in a long deep breath, then let it out. "I fear this war will be quite unlike any other that Ivalice has seen."

* * *

A/N: I should say that I'm sorry 'bout the cliffhanger last chapter. But you know. I'm not.

Also, to those who want to drop the story now, I say this: give me one chapter. It may take me a while, due to requirements of exams and getting a job and finding an apartment and life in general, but I will make it worth it.


	118. Karma

He barely had time to see it before it rammed forward, tore through the skin covering his chest, and embedded itself into him. For a moment he was in shock, unable to feel or understand anything.

Then, purple flames erupted from the wound, racing over the moogle, and he threw his head back.

He was aware that he was screaming, but he perceived it through a thick fog. He could feel the vibrations in his throat, and barely hear the sound in his ears. This confused him a good deal; he'd gone into shock before, and though it always dulled things, it was never that fast or that intense. His confusion only grew as the quietness, the feeling of almost being smothered out of all his senses, progressed further. Within a few moments, it felt as though his entire body had fallen away, and there was nothing.

No sight, no sound, no smell, no taste, no feeling. All he had were his thoughts. It wasn't even darkness that he was seeing; it was more like that oblivion that always remained beyond the edges of his vision.

He didn't know how long he was locked in that place, with no perception of what was going on. His thoughts were all he had to keep track of what was happening, and they rushed, they slowed, they ground to a halt, and they rushed forward. It felt like a moment, it felt like an eternity.

And then, abruptly, he saw something. A part of his mind told him that he should have been blinded by the sudden brightness before him, but he wasn't. All he knew was that one second there was nothing, and the next, there was a purple flame hanging in the air before him.

Isaac tried to turn his attention to look down at his body and see if he was injured, but he couldn't move his eyes. If they were his eyes, even. All there were were the purple flames, glistening and flickering and holding all of his attention.

And then, a flicker of noise rushed through the flames. It was bizarre and disorienting; abruptly, the flames flashed, and suddenly, he _was_ there, hearing and feeling everything from the instant.

His body hurt, both from aches as well as sharp scrapes and bruises. There were rocks around him, some of them broken and shattered. "I'd be doing both of us a favour if I just stayed out and got myself killed, kupo."

Then he was back, staring at the purple fire. He knew he should have felt confused and disoriented, but for some reason, it all just made sense. There was something familiar about the flames; not quite comforting, but not alien or menacing either. It was an odd feeling of acceptance, of acknowledgment. Still, there had certainly been something aggressive about the vision he'd just had. Almost a challenge, a knowing, leering grin worked into it—

It was cold outside, and his own fur was barely enough to keep him from shivering. He was on the ground, his hands bound behind him. He could feel warmth next to him, soft but hard, and could just see around the area from the dim light that filtered in through the tarp. "Well, you're still filled with those good intentions, aren't you, Isaac?"

And back to the flames. If he could have, he would have shaken his head, or blinked to clear his vision of the purple light for a moment. However, he couldn't, so instead he simply remained as he was, fixated on the flame like a moth. He was beginning to regain a bit more of his mental power, and he found himself wondering what was going on. It was all so strange. Purple flames... shards of memories from his past... it was—

He was cold. There was blood on the street, reflecting the grey clouds above. "From what I've read about tonberries, they search out ritualistic sacrifices every day to their deity."

He felt coolness spread over his mind as he had a vague memory. Jagd Dorsa. He remembered flapping up to the roof of a house while Eileen and Ben hid along the street. Then the screaming, and the horrible purple flash, and the viera's body in the street... That was what was happening. The tonberries were using their magic on him. They were judging him, weighing his sins and deciding whether he was deserving of life or not. The flashes of memory, they were all being used by the creatures to decide whether he should keep his life.

The moogle felt his hopes droop. He would never pass a test like that. Three or four years ago, maybe. Now, though, it was all too twisted... all too confused. He had made poor decisions, he'd done things—

It was a warm night. He was standing on a plain, his fur ruffling softly in the wind. He was nervous, watching another moogle with a mixture of fear, aggression, and unshakable respect. "She attacked you, and you defended, kupo. Now, you may have overdone the reply, but you were completely right in doing it."

Lini. Training with her. Before... before anything happened between them. He heard her words, but knew that they didn't apply. She was talking about a petty insult that July had thrown at him over dinner. It was different. What he'd done... he'd killed. He'd _wanted_ to kill. That couldn't be explained by self-defense. He thought about it constantly; it blocked out everything he was and left him with only guilt. Almost as bad as—

Hard wood was underneath him, unending sky above and around. There was an uncomfortable acceptance between him and the one standing next to him as the other said, "I hate to tell you this, Isaac, but I promise that, by the end of today, either he or I will be dead."

But he'd told Ben not to. He wanted Ben to give Max another chance. To just stop, then, and let himself and the others deal with it. Isaac knew it was something that the ninja would never get over, no matter what he thought about the subject. He'd wanted to save him... he just wanted to keep him from feeling everything he'd gone through himself. It was all that the moogle could do at the time, though if there had been anything else, he knew he would've done it. Anything to save him—

Lying on his back on the warm stones, watching the sun setting out over the mountains. He could hear the voice next to him, low, and always just keeping that hiss in check. "Well, there you go. I'm a ticking time bomb, Isaac. I probably won't live that long with this power. And now that we're moving again, it can only be coming sooner."

He didn't know how to feel about Maxwell. Even now. Especially now. The two of them had met to fight to the death. He knew that Maxwell would've done it, too, if they hadn't been interrupted. Would Isaac have gone through with it, to the very end? He didn't know. It was all too confusing right now. He knew that Max was his friend, just like the others. He cared about him just as much. Even if the bangaa wanted to kill him, he knew he could never do it... he was too indecisive. It drove him crazy. He was terrified of it, even. He never knew how he would act from one situation to the next; he would make spur of the moment, and often stupid, decisions. How could he or anybody else possibly trust him if that was all that he—

It was cold, again. Snow was melting on his fur as he stood in the middle of an empty street, confused and frustrated with himself. "'At's why we like you."

For several long moments, Isaac's thoughts froze. He listened to the voice, the light playfulness underlined with a challenging growl. The understanding mixed with arrogance. That odd inflection, and the way she skipped the 'th' noise in words. It was Jacqueline, talking to him. Telling him why it was that she liked him; why it was that any of them liked him.

Dully, in the back of his mind, he felt a wayward thought pushing up, and saying, mechanically, that his friends had no reason to really like him after what he'd done. That wasn't what gave him pause, though. It was something entirely different.

He didn't feel guilty. At all. He thought of her, of what her life meant and who she was, and he knew that he'd done nothing wrong. Hearing her voice didn't enhance his guilt; instead, it soothed him, filled him with the warmth he felt when thinking about all his friends.

And then, just as suddenly, he realized that he'd known that for some time. He didn't feel guilty for Jacqueline's death. Certainly, he had mourned the loss for quite a time. However, it was never guilt.

But he had felt _some_ guilt, somewhere. He wasn't sure what about, or why it was, but—

"I think I know you better than anyone."

It flashed through before he even had time to see where he was. He would have blinked if he could, as confusion flashed through his mind. Who—

"I'm not often generous, so take advantage of it."

"Look, I want to get over this at least for this mission."

"You're the only ones I know in this world."

Isaac's mind reeled, fixating on each memory for a staggering instant before something forced it away. What did this have to do with anything? What did it have to do with his guilt? Why couldn't he just remember correc—?

"Let's have some fun, small fry."

Isaac's thoughts ground to a halt. Small fry. Only one person had ever called him that. But why—

"Don't do this, Isaac. I don't want to kill you. I really don't, kupo. You're... you're the only person I've got left. Don't make me fight you."

A hot flood of confused emotions rushed through Isaac, his mind suddenly conjuring up everything that had happened since he'd come to Ivalice. Everybody he'd fought, everybody he'd met, everybody he'd had an impact on. And always, always he was trying to help. He saved, he defended, he went further than he had to. Everybody but…

The purple flames flashed into a memory again, and this time, Isaac worked all of his power on paying attention to it, holding it there, understanding every single piece and all of his emotions.

Standing in a street, the sun still rising. There were people all about him, bustling by. He was focused on one, though. And then, his own voice was speaking. "I, uh, I guess I'll see you around, probably."

Then a voice replying, just as awkward and unsure, the restrained, underlying emotion bubbling just beneath the surface. "Yeah, kupo, I guess so."

"Thomas," Isaac rasped, but this time he actually said it, didn't think it. And suddenly, the purple fire was gone, and he was cold and in pain again, slumping in the grip of the two tonberries as he stared up at the one just in front of him. It had its yellow eyes trained on his own hazel ones, but Isaac barely saw as he hung limply. Instead, he was thinking, and realizing that the guilt he'd been harbouring for the past three years hadn't been for Jacqueline. "I could've saved him, kupo…"

And then, the moogle slumped further in the creatures' grip, his body and mind stretched far beyond their limits for the day.


	119. Balance

It was odd when Isaac awoke. Intuitively, he knew that he'd been unconscious for quite some time. There was an odd feeling of time passed that he couldn't quite comprehend. That said, unlike the other times that he'd been heavily wounded in battle, he didn't feel stiff or achy at all. In fact, he seemed to be quite the opposite: he was energetic, and his entire body felt extremely comfortable.

As he realised this, the moogle opened his eyes, looking around. He was in a small, rough bed, only slightly large for his small form. There was a scratchy blanket covering most of his body, providing him with limited warmth. The low, stone ceiling over his head flickered with pale firelight. Its rough-cut surface made it clear that he was in some sort of a cave, the fire keeping it from getting moist.

Isaac cocked his eye a bit as the stone above him glittered yellow. Yellow? Why would it be yellow? Unless it was…

Amber. It was amber. He was in Siena Gorge.

The moogle sat up quickly, about to hop out of bed. Just as he was about to leave, though, he heard a noise coming from the low entrance to the area. Isaac turned to look, and his breath caught in his breath as he saw the robed figure of a tonberry.

The creature stopped as its eyes fell on his, and the two of them remained there, neither moving as they both simply stared at each other. The tonberry carried the customary lantern and meat clever that most of its kind bore, and its glowing yellow eyes looked no different.

Then, abruptly, a thin slit along the bottom of the tonberries face parted, and a thin, reedy voice spoke, sending chills down Isaac's spine.

"You have awakened."

The moogle didn't reply, simply staring at the creature some more. After it had finished its sentence, it closed its mouth again, and it was almost as though its face sealed shut. Isaac couldn't see where the mouth had been, and for a moment he questioned whether it had ever been there at all. However, the way that the creature tilted its head to the side slightly made it clear that it had spoken to him, and was expecting an answer.

Finally, the moogle managed to mutter out, "Where am I, kupo?"

"You are in our lair within the Siena Gorge," the tonberry replied, its mouth parting to reveal that toothless, dark space in its face. Isaac was slightly repulsed as it kept speaking. "You have been asleep for a week. You have already missed much, and the world is beginning to turn without you."

The mysticism of the creature's words went far over the moogle's head. He simply blinked, taking in that he was still in the Siena Gorge, and that a week had passed. His next question was much more hesitant, for several reasons: partly because he feared the answer, and partly because he already knew it.

"What happened to me?"

The tonberry parted its lips into a grim, awkward facsimile of a smile, and said, "That is a question that is of much debate on several plains of existence at the moment. In short, I used my abilities upon you. Karma is an incredibly powerful attack, and more often than not it is instantly fatal. It tears the subject and the user away from reality, into a separate world wherein one is judged, while the other judges. I judged you. I saw all that you are, and all that you have been. Every moment in your life, I too have experienced it due to my attack."

Isaac stared at him, his mouth hanging open. He suddenly felt very naked, even though the blankets were covering him. He shivered, and murmured, "…everything?"

"All of it. It is my role as a judge to observe it all, and then to present your life to you, and allow you to defend yourself. Do you recall the purple flame?" When the moogle nodded, the tonberry went on. "That was I. I sent you those flashes, those images, and guided you. I saw all of it. Much of it was similar to other lives: your earliest memories, your greatest fears, your closest-kept secrets. The only difference in much of it was the intensity of the emotions I felt; you feel things very keenly, Isaac Mineau of St Ivalice."

Isaac choked on the air, sputtering for a moment, then said, "You know—"

"Yes, Isaac Mineau. I know that you are not of this world. However, I have seen far stranger things in my time." The tonberry gestured towards him vaguely with his knife, making the moogle more than a bit uncomfortable. "But yes. There were moments that stood out, though. Flailing in a river. Taking off in _the Torrent_. Laughing with Jacqueline. Finding Ben in the Koringwood. Fighting Maxwell on an airship. Talking with Eileen in a snowy playground. Clinging desperately to Lini as you first kiss…"

"Stop it," Isaac said, his voice hesitant but strong. He glared at the tonberry, stammering, "Those are mine, kupo. You can't just—"

"I am sorry, Isaac Mineau. If I had the choice, I would not delve into your memories, either. They are powerful and disorienting. However, once a day, we are driven to judge, and you were the closest subject."

"Why? What drives you?"

"That, I know not. Some believe it is the curse of a vengeful god upon all mortal creatures. Others think that it is the unfortunate result of a powerful mage's experiment. None know the truth of our existence, though, and nobody ever shall. It is beside the point, though: what is truly important is what was different about your judgement."

Isaac stared, not sure what to make of the tonberry. Finally, he nodded, and said, "Go on."

"I could sense that your emotions were not normal; in fact, they were incredibly powerful. Far more powerful than should have been possible. However, I also knew that some of your strongest emotions were hidden away, blocked by some force that I could not penetrate. Thus, I picked away at you, trying to push further. I had seen many sides of you: love, desperation, confusion, friendship, sadness, guilt, duty. That said, there was something very important missing, something that left you dangerously unbalanced. That something was your anger.

"Anger is a very important force in a person's life. It must be expressed, and released, or else it builds up and instead turns on you. The question, then, was where your anger had gone. When and where had you locked it away, and what was the key? Of course, it was easy to see small scraps of it, leaking out past your blocks and defences. Nobody can fully hold back their anger. I fed you these scraps, trying to force you to release more and find the answer yourself. That answer surprised me."

"Thomas," Isaac muttered, remembering the final moments of his experience in the tonberry's attack. That terrible memory he'd tried to forget over the past few years, of when he and Thomas had parted ways without either of them saying how they felt.

At length, the moogle managed to speak again. "What about it? It's just a repressed memory. I've had a lot to think about since then."

"Precisely," the tonberry nodded, those wide, yellow eyes not flickering. "Since that day, you have not taken the necessary time to work through your friend's death. You have certainly sorted through your feelings about Jacqueline, Ben, Lini, and Foobar by this point. However, you have many unresolved, conflicting feelings about Thomas."

"What does that have to do with my anger, kupo?"

"Thomas was the main focus of your anger, Isaac Mineau. Both of you used each other, unknowingly, as sounding boards to release your frustrations and your rage. In that way, both of you needed each other. In a very real way, you kept each other sane. After his death, you lost your focus for such feelings. Not to mention, the nature of his death left you confused, and without an outlet. How to be angry at Maxwell for killing him, when you know that the bangaa was simply protecting you?"

"I wasn't angry at Maxwell, kupo!" Isaac yelled defensively, "I would be wrong to be—"

"You would be entirely right to be, Isaac Mineau. When your body wants you to react a certain way, it is because your body knows what is best for you. When your body tells you to be angry, you ought to show appropriate anger. If Maxwell is as close of a friend as you feel, he will understand. As it is, you must begin to feel anger, again. For the past three years, you have fought for many people: for your crew, for your duty, for your friends. However, not once have you truly fought for yourself."

Isaac blinked at the tonberry, finding the creatures words oddly compelling. He breathed heavily for a few moments, then shook his head, muttering, "Fighting for others is enough, kupo."

"It is not, Isaac. When you fight only for others, you can do nothing by yourself. However, when you fight for yourself as well, you become a force of incredible power."

"A single moogle can't do anything on his own, kupo!"

"This is true. That said, sometimes it requires a single stone to start an avalanche."

Isaac sat back in the bed, keeping his eyes trained on the tonberry. He wasn't completely sure how to react; the creature clearly wanted him to do something. For some reason, the moogle thought he knew what it was, and precisely how important it was that he do it. However, he couldn't find the words. At length, he murmured, "What should I do?"

The tonberry regarded him for a long, unblinking moment. Then, it spoke, its reedy voice coming out slowly. "I cannot tell you what to do. All I can do is lay out the information for you, and allow you to judge. As of now, you are dead. Both the Rebellion and the Palace think that you died upon my knife. The Rebellion will come to Ambervale in the spring to attack the Palace and finish the war. The Rebellion outnumbers the Palace on the ground, but in the air, Nutsy has two ships against the Palace's fleet. However, you know that Marche will still try to pass by air to Ambervale, in the hopes of slipping by the fleet and avoiding combat for as long as possible. You know that no judge is strong enough to monitor either the war that will break out on the ground or the battle in the skies."

Isaac stared at the tonberry, his eyes wide as he confronted the full situation for the first time. It seemed impossible. The _Red Flash_ was neither a fast ship nor a stealthy one; it was designed primarily for heavy combat missions. Even the _Fallen Star II_, the high speed jammer, would have trouble slipping past an entire fleet unharmed. And how could he do anything, especially now that he was dead? The name Isaac didn't really carry much weight anymore, especially now that—

His thoughts ground to a halt. The tonberry, watching him, nodded slightly, its yellow eyes seeming to understand that Isaac had caught on.

"One unnamed mogknight, and two blades," he murmured, his eyes narrowing. "But the name never dies."

"Have you come to your decision?" the tonberry asked.

"Yes, kupo."

"Good. I would suggest you to leave soon. The hunger is returning…" The tonberry shook a bit, its yellow eyes darkening for a moment. "Soon, we shall have to hunt."

Isaac started at that, glancing to the tonberry. "Would you try and… and judge me again?"

The tonberry shook its head, pointing towards Isaac's chest. The moogle looked down, and saw that the blanket had fallen from his chest, revealing his torn shirt. Beneath the fabric, there was a perfectly white patch of fur nestled amongst the brown, perfectly marking the spot where the knife had entered him.

"The judgement leaves its marks," the tonberry explained as Isaac simply stared at his dyed fur. "Some more obvious than others. Now, go. You should be strong enough to walk."

Isaac glanced to the tonberry in surprise. Then, awkwardly, he pulled himself up and out of the bed. He was surprised to find that none of his muscles were stiff as he got up. One look at his clothes, though, reminded him of just how badly hurt he'd been. They were torn in dozens of places, and covered in crusty bloodstains. The only thing intact was the leather glove over his right paw. He sighed, and then awkwardly glanced to the tonberry. It simply nodded, then stepped out of the way of the door. Isaac walked hesitantly past him, and froze for a moment.

There was a short corridor, the roof just as low as the small chamber he'd been in. Filling this passage were dozens of hooded and stooped tonberries. As he stepped to the entrance to the corridor, all of them turned as one to stare at him, their glowing, yellow eyes unreadable, their knives glinting in the light cast by their lanterns.

All was still for a few moments, and Isaac felt more than heard his chest heaving with breath. The tonberries kept their gazes fixed on him, and it took all that the moogle had to not run back down the corridor.

Then, in an eerie, shuffling motion, all of the tonberries parted, spreading out to the sides of the passage without taking their eyes from Isaac. In a few seconds, they had made a perfect path through their ranks for him, their lanterns casting yellow light across the ground.

Isaac breathed for a few more seconds. Tentatively, he took a step forward, stopping as his foot touched the ground. He waited to see if the tonberries would react at all, but when they didn't he took another step, and then another. Their eyes followed him as he walked through the light of their lanterns, and out of the small entrance to the cave they were in.

He stepped out into the chill night, the wind instantly buffeting his fur and ragged clothing. He blinked, his lungs burning instantly from the sudden cold. The wind carried flecks of snow that felt sharp as knives as they slipped into Isaac's fur. He panted hard, then glanced behind himself. The entrance to the cave was barely visible; if it weren't for the flickering glow of the tonberries' lanterns just inside, he would've missed it altogether.

The moogle let his gaze wander upwards to the wall of the gorge. He had to find shelter, and seeing as he didn't relish the thought of spending a night among the tonberries, his only option seemed to be scaling the wall. He couldn't imagine how he would do that, but he'd have to find a way…

"Isaac Mineau."

Isaac jumped, and looked back down to the entrance of the cavern. Standing there was a tonberry; the moogle honestly couldn't tell if it was the same one that had been speaking with him. Oddly, though, it carried neither a knife nor a lantern. Both of its hands were clamped around sheathed blades, their matching silver and gold hilts making them easy for Isaac to identify.

"Sadly, the queen took your other weapon. These may prove useful, though."

Isaac moved to take the blades, but much to his surprise, the tonberry flicked his hand, and threw the Avuir Blue to him. Isaac stumbled, and just managed to pluck it out of the air with his left paw. He panted, and glanced up to yell at the tonberry. However, to his own greater surprise, the Avuir Red was already in the air, spinning towards him. Without thinking, the moogle reached out and caught it with his right paw—

Then he dropped both blades at once, his eyes going wide as he yelped.

He reached down with his left paw, and pulled at the leather glove. However, it had shrunk in the cold, and wasn't coming off. He fumbled with it for a few more seconds, before he bit off a curse, and knelt down. He grabbed the Avuir Red with his left paw, and quickly sliced the leather to pieces.

He dropped the weapon again, and tore the remaining shreds from his paw. Then, he held it up to his face, and he simply gaped for a good minute or so.

His paw was healed. The bent and broken fingers were straight, the withered and dead muscles strong. Warm blood flowed through its veins, and brown fur coated its surface. His fingers shaking, he brought his left paw up to brush through the fur, and he almost collapsed as he felt the contact on his right paw. He ran his fingers carefully along the skin, feeling for the scar. Any trace of it was gone, though.

"I have lived many years, and seen many lives," the tonberry's voice said, and Isaac barely understood it in his wonderment. "Rarely have I seen karma leave a victim standing. Rarer still is it for the attack to leave the victim unharmed. Never before, though, have I seen karma _heal_ its victim. That, more than anything else, should tell you what kind of person you are, Isaac Mineau."

"Stop calling me that, kupo," the moogle breathed. A small grin was on his face as he continued running his paws over each other, marvelling at the sensation. He took a deep breath, then murmured, "Isaac Mineau is dead, remember?"

That awkward smile returned to the tonberry's face. "So he is. Farewell."

Isaac finally looked away from his paw to thank the tonberry, but it was already gone. The light of the lanterns was gone, and he couldn't see the entrance to the cavern anywhere.

Sighing, Isaac leaned down, and picked up the two blades, one in each paw. He took several long, deep breaths, and then buckled them to his tattered belt. He walked up to the wall, and with a small nod, began climbing it. With his newly healed paw and wings, it was quick work scaling the thing. As soon as he was done, he tucked his paws into his armpits, and shivering, walked directly into the Nubswood.

He walked for another good hour, growing progressively colder in the intense chill. Fortunately, the trees blocked all of the wind, but they did nothing for the cold itself.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, his ears twitching. He remained there in the silence for a few long seconds, and then he said, "It would be a lot easier if you just came out, kupo."

He waited in the silence, his breath visible in the air before him. After a few uneasy seconds of silence, though, a form dropped down from one of the trees in front of him to land silently in the snow. Her long ears identified her as a viera. Isaac noticed that her bow was at her back, but knew better than to think she was defenceless. There were probably a few arrows trained on him right now, waiting for him to make a wrong movement.

"State your business," the viera said, her voice barely audible.

"I need to speak with elder Eleonora, kupo."

"And what makes you think you have the right to do so?"

"I'm a trespasser on your land with no allegiance to Clan Nutsy or the Palace," Isaac said, shrugging. "You have to bring me to your elders so that they can judge whether I can pass through, kupo."

The viera narrowed her eyes at Isaac, and was about to speak, when a voice cut her off.

"No need to worry, he's perfectly right."

Isaac and the viera turned as one, and both took surprised steps back as they saw Eleonora stepping out from amongst the trees, her feet making no noise on the snow. A pale, purple aura of light hung around her, lighting her way as she approached them. She walked right up to Isaac and the viera, and then tilted her head at the moogle.

"You're alive."

"After a fashion, kupo, yes," Isaac nodded. "Though it would be nice if people believed I was dead for a while."

Eleonora eyed him curiously for a few long moments. Then, she reached out, and parted the torn fabric over his chest. Isaac held still as she looked at the white mark there, and decided it might be better not to speak.

"Would I be right to assume that it is somehow related to this mark?"

"You would, kupo."

Eleonora was silent. Then, she carefully folded the fabric back over the white patch, and looked to his face again. "Why have you come here?"

"Has Eileen left, yet?"

"Yes," Eleonora nodded gravely. "She is not the friend you remember, I warn you. She left the day after you… well, after you disappeared. She intends to lead Clan Nutsy's attack against the Palace in the spring."

"Right," Isaac murmured, taking a deep breath. He wanted to go after her, but he knew better; the snow would be too deep for him to travel by this point, and he still had to be dead for a while. He gathered his thoughts, then spoke. "In that case, I need somewhere to stay for the winter, kupo. Please; I'll help with defending and patrolling the forest, and I won't interfere in anything. When the spring melt comes, I'll be gone."

Eleonora considered it for a few very long moments. Then, she nodded slowly. "Yes, I think we can arrange that. I'll have you join ranks among Clan Ritz after I've okayed it with Selim and Idella. If you don't mind me asking, what do you intend to do once spring comes?"

"I intend to end this war with as few casualties as possible, kupo."

"And you are going to do this alone?"

"Yes," Isaac nodded, "and no."

The viera watched him for a few seconds. Then, a small smirk came to her face. "Alright then. Is there anything else that we can do for you?"

"Yes," Isaac thought suddenly, eyes widening a bit, "did Eileen leave my pack here."

"She did indeed. Is there something you need from it?"

"There is, kupo."

"Alright then, in that case, come along."

Eleonora nodded to the stunned viera, who had watched all this with a confused wonder, and then began walking off through the trees. Isaac followed after her, still shivering in the cold. He thought about what was to come, and it made him dizzy with anticipation. There was a lot to do, and so much of it could go wrong at any moment.

He took a deep, steadying breath, and then closed each of his paws around the hilts of the Avuirs to ground himself. Yes, there was a lot to do. He would manage it, though. The end of it all was in sight, and all he had to do was follow through.

Everything would happen with the spring.

A/N: And that little slice of happiness is brought to you by David Bowie, Florence + The Machine, Wicked, The New Pornographers, and me moving out of my residence and getting my first place on my own. Dang, I'm old.


	120. To Lead

Eileen watched from the deck of the _Fallen Star II_, her eyes sharply scanning the ranks and ranks of soldiers marching beneath them. The going was slow for the footsoldiers; the recently melted snow, still showing small caps of white every here and there, made the ground wet and difficult to traverse. With the large size of their army, they were moving even slower.

Still, they were making progress. At this rate, they would probably reach the Nubswood within two weeks, and then have a day or two to rest and prepare before the actual attack began.

The nu mou's grip tightened on the banister as she thought about what was to come. She had long since resolved herself to the fact that on her own, she couldn't defeat both Maxwell and Remedi. However, with the rest of Clan Nutsy there, she would manage. She glanced down at her left hand, and the gold ring around her finger. She also had her trump card, which would certainly come in useful. She'd been hanging onto that ring for a good four years now… it was about time for her to actually use it.

"We have a good chance," a voice said from behind her. Eileen didn't move; she gave no indication that she'd even heard the male voice. She didn't even look over or nod in greeting to Marche as he stepped up beside her, leaning casually against the barrister. He was quite a contrast from her, with his calm eyes directed straight ahead, totally relaxed. She stood, her grip still white-knuckled on the wood, constantly roving her eyes over their forces below.

When she didn't reply for a few more seconds, Marche tried again. "So long as we can get through their airship fleet, we'll be good."

"We'll get through," she said.

Marche flicked his eyes over to her, waiting for anything else. When she didn't reply though, he sighed, and shook his head. "Eileen, I appreciate all that you've done for us since the Sprohm Incident, and even moreso since you came back last winter. That said, I'm worried about you. You're focusing too much on this."

"I'm focusing on it because it's all I have left," the nu mou snapped, drawing Marche up short. She kept watching the ranks advancing below her for a few seconds, letting the silence draw out. At length, though, she opened her mouth again. "You have your duels with Ritz and Llednar; I'll have mine with Max and Remedi."

Marche watched her carefully, then said, "This isn't what Isaac would have wanted."

"Isaac's dead," she said, her voice cold. "He doesn't want anything, anymore. I bolstered your mage ranks, and I got all of you some of the most powerful magical equipment Ivalice has to offer. Not to mention, I gave Ezel all of the information he needed to design that card to remove Llednar's protections. I've done all of your work for you; now just do your job, and let me do mine."

The paladin didn't reply for a few long moments. Then, at length, he nodded, and turned away. "Fine. Remember that just because you seem to have given up on life, it doesn't mean that my people have. They intend to live on after this battle and rebuild Ivalice. Don't ruin that for them." He turned to leave, but paused for a second, before saying, "And you know I'm right. None of them would have wanted to see you like this."

Eileen didn't reply. Marche watched her for as long as he could handle the awkward silence, before he finally shook his head and walked away. Eileen remained where she was, watching the thousands of troops. Two more weeks. Two more weeks, and then she would finally have her final battle. Finally she could be at rest.

* * *

The moogle grumbled as he stepped out of the barracks, making sure to lock the door behind him. Fortunately, there hadn't been any uprisings in Baguba Port, yet, but everybody was antsy lately. Ever since Clan Nutsy's sudden attack on Cadoan during the winter, they weren't taking any chances. He stepped out from the guards' compound in the industrial district, the darkness of early morning beginning to lift around him as he walked.

There were rumors all across Ivalice that Nutsy and the Palace would finally engage in open conflict later in the spring. What truth there was in this, he didn't know; however, they had all noticed that a large number of guards had been called back to Ambervale.

Still, he'd been left behind, so the moogle hardly cared. Baguba was an easy enough post; there were fewer of the machinations that were common in Cadoan, and there was too much division in the city for all of the assembled groups to rise up as one. As such, all that the Palace's guard had to do was check to make sure that whoever was coming in and out of the city had proper Palace-issued authorization for travel, and keep anybody from approaching the airship docks.

The most that he or any of the other guards had had to do since being posted to the port city was perform a couple small raids on illegal shipping operations. Even then, the captains always picked out the smaller and less defended of such operations to attack and use as examples. It kept their fighting abilities sharp, and let all of the larger operations know that their actions weren't going unnoticed.

The moogle finally reached his post, on the outskirts of the town's industrial district. After seizing the city four years previous, one of the first things that the Palace had done was to build a wall around its edges, finally forming hard borders for the port. This had also restricted the number of entrances and exits, making it far easier to keep track of who came in and who went out.

It was to one of these gates that the moogle was currently headed, to relieve the night shift of their post and fill in for the rest of the morning. As he approached, he saw that they were already waiting for him, standing outside of the guardhouse in the dim, predawn light. The four that were being relieved all looked up as he approached, and a few of them gave half-hearted greetings, rubbing sleep from their eyes.

"Just you, this morning?" a human asked, raising her eyebrow at him.

"Seems so, kupo. I'll be here for an hour with your boy in there," he replied, gesturing to the guardhouse, where there was still one of the night watchmen stationed. "After that, the rest of my group should be showing up. Nothing happens this early in the morning, anyways."

The others all nodded or shrugged, agreeing half-heartedly. It was true; the early morning shift, while horrible to wake up for, was generally acknowledged as the lightest one. Very few people wanted to come through, and at this time of year, there were precious few people who would be arriving through the gates yet. The melt had only really started the week before, and it would take at least another week before any shipping caravans started showing up.

Just as they were about to part ways for work or the barracks, though, they all heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the road outside the gate. They all turned towards the tall wooden barrier, and the newly-arrived moogle shook his head in annoyance. "You all head back to the barracks. I can deal with this o—"

He stopped as the sound of wings flapping cut through the otherwise silent spring morning. The five assembled guards all glanced at each other in surprise. They all tensed for a moment, but relaxed as the person behind the gate pulled above the wooden door, hovering easily in the air. It was a single moogle, brown by the look of him. As he started lowering himself down to the ground, the guard moogle roused himself, and started walking towards the intruder, his paw held easily on the hilt of his knife should he need it.

"You there, kupo!" he called as the brown moogle landed. "Didn't you notice the gate?"

The other moogle brushed himself off, looking none-too concerned by the moogle approaching him. His clothes were simple, especially considering that he must have been on the road for the past couple of weeks. He wore a plain pair of pants, and a light shirt. Despite the cold, he left the collar of the shirt undone, revealing a few whisps from an odd tuft of white fur on his chest. All he carried was a weathered and battered pack, and a pair of blades in worn scabbards at his belt, their hilts covered by cloth. At last, the intruder looked up at the guard, cocking his head to the side. He glanced back at that gate, then muttered, "Oh, right. That really does get in the way. Somebody ought to open it, kupo."

The guard actually blinked at that response. He glanced over his shoulder at the other four, but they looked just as off-guard as he felt. He returned his attention to the brown moogle, and said, his voice a bit harder, "It's kept shut by order of the Queen, kupo. You'd best remember that while you're here. Now, either show me your permit to enter the city, or my partners and I here will show you how the gate opens and throw you out."

The brown moogle, during all this time, had been looking at the gate, and for a moment, the annoyed guard wasn't sure if he'd even heard him. After a few seconds, though, the intruder turned back around to face him, and said, "Ah, right, kupo. I don't have any papers. I thought my name ought to act as enough of a pass, kupo."

The guard cocked his eyebrow, his grip tightening on the hilt of his knife. He pulled it halfway out, eying the intruder carefully. He had never met any representative of the Palace that acted like the moogle. Feeling ready, he said, "And what would your name be, kupo?"

Suddenly, there was a scraping of a blade being drawn, and then, all at once, the guard found he was on his back, gasping for breath past his pained chest, and there was a long, red blade being held to his neck. He stammered, staring up at the brown moogle's cool, confident hazel eyes. The intruder leaned down, and then said, very clearly so that the other guards would hear, "Lini."

"K-kupopo?"

"My name," the brown moogle said. "It's Lini the Mogknight, kupo."

The guard shook, staring and unable to speak for a moment. At last, he managed to gasp, "I'd heard she was dead, kupo!"

"You heard wrong," the brown moogle replied. "He's very much alive." Then, quick as lightning, he drew the blade back, and slammed its amethyst pommel into the guard's forehead. There was pain for an instant, and then all disappeared into cool, complete darkness.

* * *

Marche stumped down the steps into the hull of _the Fallen Star II_. As he reached the bottom, he took a long, deep breath, kneading his forehead with his and as he leaned against the wall. He remained like that for a short moment, breathing hard in and out.

"Worried, kupo?"

The human jumped a bit, and looked up to see Montblanc standing just in front of him, the moogle's head tilted to the side as he gave him that familiar, concerned look. He, Grans, and Guinness were the only members of Nutsy currently on the ship with him; all of the others were busy directing the troops on the ground and keeping things organized. He had kept these three behind, though, so that he could plan and strategize during the long journey to Ambervale.

"I'm not sure," the human finally murmured, sighing. "It feels as though we're going to be just skipping over the war, when it ought to be us leading it. I'm the one that's asking all these people to fight; I should be the one at their head."

"You're protective of your people, kupo," Montblanc offered, shrugging. "It's natural. Besides, you have to let them do that so that you can go and attack the queen; otherwise, all that they're doing will be—"

"I know," the human cut him off, drawing a curious look from Montblanc. "Still, though… it doesn't make me feel any better about it. I shouldn't be the one doing this."

"Marche, you _should_ be the one doing this because you're the _only_ one doing this, kupo." The moogle shook his head in exasperation, giving a sigh of annoyance. "Why is it that you stupidly good people are always the hardest on yourselves?"

"How do you mean?"

"You, constantly feeling guilty because you can't do everything. Guinness who seems to think he has to be able to save everybody. And, of course, Isaac…" the moogle smirked a bit, thinking about the moogle. "Well, he went without saying, kupo. But what you're doing is good. The Palace is in the wrong, here; they've cracked down too hard on the population. The people have to rise up eventually, kupo, and no matter how it happens, blood will be shed. With you at the head, though, we can keep the amount of blood as small as possible, kupo. Got it?"

Marche was silent for a few long minutes. Then, at length, he nodded. "You're right. I know. I'm not going to stop, though; feeling this way or doing what I'm doing. I'm responsible for what's happening right now."

The two of them nodded to each other, both of them understanding the other's feelings perfectly. The pair had spent enough time together over the previous five years to not need to speak.

"Oh yeah, kupo," Montblanc said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence between them. "I'm still coming with you for the final battle."

Marche sighed in annoyance. "How many times do I have to tell you that it's too dangerous for you?"

"Marche, I've been taking part in battles since I've been able to talk. I might not be able to cast magic anymore, but I can still know how to stay safe on a battlefield, kupo. Besides," the moogle hefted his heavy tome, showing off the ink stains in his the fur along his fingers. "I'm the one that's recording all of this. I can't do that if I'm not there to actually witness the events."

Marche looked ready to argue for a moment, but just shook his head and groaned, knowing that he would never convince the moogle. "Fine. Just try not to do anything stupid."

The moogle smirked up at Marche, cocking his head slightly. "Wow, kupo. You _are_ drained. A few years ago, you never would have given in that easily."

"Shut up," the human muttered, a grin playing on his lips.

"Not happening, kupo. This is the perfect time for me to ask about appropriating clan funds to buy myself a chocobo."

Marche actually laughed at that one, leaning against the wall. For his part, Montblanc just watched his clan leader, reading his emotions. The two were quiet for a few more long moments, before Marche roused himself.

"So is that all I am, then? The figurehead leading an angry mob?"

"It is, kupo. There always has to be a figurehead, the one person that starts things. After that, it just spreads."

* * *

"Captain, captain!"

Marcus Lobsinger, captain of _the Reverie_, groaned, and rolled over in his bed, hoping that his first mate's yelling would abate if he ignored it. Keeping his eyes shut, he shoved his head under his pillow, knowing from how dazed he felt that it was far too early for him to be waking up. Shaw knew that he was never supposed to wake the captain before the first bell; Marcus needed his sleep if he wanted to find their crew any work at all, especially now that they were grounded.

The moogle's groans grew louder as he heard the door to his room being banged open, and felt the invading air. He heard Shaw's heavy panting, and he could perfectly see the other moogle in his head, trying to catch his breath as he wheezed in the doorway.

"Captain Lobsinger! You have to come quickly, kupo!"

The captain took a few long breaths, partly to savor the last moment before his first mate forced him to wake and confront the day, and partly to get his temper under control. Then, in a very relaxed motion, he pulled his head out from beneath the pillow, and glanced across his small room to Shaw, standing in the doorway. He cocked an eyebrow at the other moogle, seeing that he already had his rod and his battle robes on.

"What's the emergency, Shaw?"

The first mate panted for a few more moments, before he finally managed to catch his breath, and say, "It's Lini the Mogknight, sir!"

Lobsinger's look only grew more incredulous, and then he muttered, "Excuse me, kupo?"

"Lini the Mogknight, sir! The word is racing all over town, kupo! Apparently he's taking on the Palace's forces, fighting them back street to street, and from what I overheard the guards saying, he's headed this way!"

Lobsinger sighed, shaking his head. "The former Lini the Mogknight died last year, and she didn't leave an heir behind, kupo. It's probably just some upstart with a deathwish."

"But sir—!"

"Shaw." The captain's tone brought the other moogle up short, and he shivered as Lobsinger turned his intense eyes towards him. "There's work to be done today. I have to sleep to do it, or else we won't sleep. Just because some idiot moogle got it into his head that today would be a good day to go out with a bang, it doesn't mean—"

He stopped, as suddenly a roar erupted from the street. Even through the walls, the two moogles could hear it clearly. It was followed a moment later by a heavy shaking, a combination that both experienced moogles quickly identified as the signifiers of a magical explosion. It was followed a moment later by several pained yells.

Lobsinger and Shaw didn't pause to listen to more. The captain was already on his feet, wearing the wrinkled clothes he'd slept in, and he was slipping his heavy iron knuckles onto his paws. Shaw led the way out the captain's door, and through a narrow hallway to a window that overlooked the street several floors below. The two of them glanced down, and stared.

A large crater was still smoldering at the head of the street a few dozen metres down from them. A group of about twenty guards were rushing down the street from the other direction, directed by the nu mou that had apparently thrown the spell. The guards were converging down upon a single moogle, who stood with two blades unsheathed, one red and one blue. Behind this moogle, the captain and his first mate could easily see a trail of unconscious and injured guards, scattered across the ground. A single judge, riding on a majestic grey chocobo, followed along some distance behind the moogle. Apparently, he had learned to keep his distance.

As the two of them watched, the first forerunners of the guards reached the moogle. The attackers raised their weapons, and made to strike.

Before they could even bring their weapons back down, though, the moogle was moving. He stepped in close to the first, a tall bangaa, and swept the red blade up into the spear. The attack knocked the weapon up high of the moogle's head, and the mogknight seemed to step right past the bangaa's leg. Just as he was about to go by, though, the blue blade flashed out, and the bangaa roared as his hamstring was sliced.

Not hesitating from that attack, the moogle kept the blue weapon spinning around to intercept a sword blow from another moogle. The two moogles pressed in tight against each other, trying to bring their weight to bear against each other. Even as they did, though, the red weapon was snaking around, and its flat smashed into the other moogle's head. As this guard was sent sprawling to the ground, the mogknight spun, and saw four more guards coming in, keeping pace with each other so that he would have to fight all at once.

Not batting an eyelid, the moogle raised his two blades, and he flicked at an odd mechanism along their bases. Immediately, all four of the guards flinched or staggered, as though they'd been struck, before they froze in place, completely unmoving. The other guards coming up behind them had to stagger to awkward stops to keep themselves from running into their comrades. Even as they were trying to regain their balance, the moogle had run forward, and jumped. He started flapping a pair of wings that even from their window, the captain and the first mate could see were well muscled, and lifted off. He glided easily over the heads of the frozen guards, and then dropped, bringing his blades down. Blood splattered up from his strike, and then he was lost to the two moogles' view as the guards pressed in around him.

They watched for a moment, and then Lobsinger muttered, nodding at the nu mou, "Do you know that mage, kupo?"

"Not by name," Shaw replied, gripping his rod tightly. "I've seen him fight before. He's uses Black and Time magic, kupo, just like me."

"Can you take him?"

Shaw licked his lips. "We'll find out."

Lobsinger nodded. Then, he turned down the hallway, and yelled as loudly as he could, "Crew, up and at 'em, kupo! Get your combat gear on! We're fighting back!"

The captain turned back to the window, and bunched up his fist in one of his knuckles. As the blades slid free from it, he drew his fist back, then smashed it into the glass. The window shattered almost instantly, the shards of glass spattering out and down to the street below. He took a deep breath, then jumped through the hole he'd punched through the window, his wings flaring out.

The captain, having spent some time living in the skies, had a good deal of experience with flying. As such, he managed to descend at a fast but safe speed, landing in a crouch just short of the mass of guards that surrounded the mogknight. He took a moment to regain his balance, and then he balled his fists to slip the blades out of his knuckles. He waded into the throng of guards, and then he was moving, driving his fists out in hard punches.

For the next minute or so, everything disappeared into a mass of movement, yells, and shocks running through his frame from impacts. The captain moved constantly, making sure he wasn't in one place for more time than it took for him to throw a punch out blindly at the forms around him. At one point, he felt the sharp point of a knife poke him in the ribs; luckily, though, he'd left his tough vest on as he'd slept last night, so the weapon's edge got caught in the garment's thick, adamantine-laced fibers. As it ground to a stop, no deeper than that prick, Lobsinger turned hard, driving his elbow down into the hand that held the knife. There was sharp crack, and then a cry of pain. The captain didn't give the attacker a chance to withdraw his hand; he simply turned, bringing his other hand out in a hard right slug. He felt his knuckle thumping into a chest, and instantly pulled it back out as the human that had attacked him dropped. Blood splattered up over his face from the force of his knuckles tearing free, but he shrugged it off; he had been in worse messes while fighting before.

Eventually, Lobsinger found him next to the mogknight. Wordlessly, the brown moogle turned partially, and the captain, understanding, went back to back with him. The two of them held their position, and within a short time, they managed to cut and punch their way through the rest of the guards.

The two stood their, catching their breath for a few moments with their backs still pressed together. Even through both of their sets of clothes, Lobsinger could feel the sweat hanging in the other moogle's fur.

Both of them turned to look as suddenly, they became aware of an intense crackling sound echoing up and down the street. They stared as they saw a line of intense, forking light, drawn between two points seemingly at random. It took a few moments for Lobsinger to even remember Shaw, and when he did, he cursed, standing back up straight and preparing to go over.

As the line died, though, he let out a sigh of relief. The larger form of the nu mou slipped to the ground without a sound, and the shorter moogle leaned back, panting heavily.

"He with you, kupo?" the mogknight asked, cocking an eyebrow at Shaw.

"Yeah," Lobsinger replied, shaking himself and turning to face the brown moogle. "He's my first mate."

"You're an airship captain?" the moogle asked, looking instantly interested.

"Well, I was, kupo, until the Palace seized all the airships and locked them down." Lobsinger pulled off one of his knuckles, then held out the freed paw to the mogknight. "Marcus Lobsinger, former captain of _the Reverie_."

The mogknight tucked one blade under his armpit, then took the offered paw, and shook it hard. "Lini the Mogknight."

Lobsinger cocked an eyebrow at that, but decided not to comment on it. Instead, he just said, "Well, Lini, shall we go and check on my mage?"

Lini nodded, and the pair headed over to the other exhausted moogle. As they drew up to him, they saw that he was brushing scorch marks off of his sleeve where a fire spell had hit a bit too close. The base of his robe was stiff with the effects of an ice spell, and his eyes seemed dim from having used so much of his magic.

The mage looked up as they approached, and shook his head, a grin on his face as he called over. "Sure, come over now that the battle's already done. Don't try to help the mage out with one of those bullets, kupo."

"Shaw," Lobsinger said as they reached him. "Please meet Lini."

The mage and the mogknight shook paws, and as they were doing so, Lini turnd to face Lobsinger again. "Thank you for your help. I should be heading out, though, kupo. It won't take them long to send another patrol after me."

"How many soldiers have you fought, kupo?"

Lini thought about it for a few long moments. Then, at length, he muttered, "Probably about two hundred by now."

Both the captain and the first mate's jaws dropped upon hearing that. They simply stared at Lini for a few long moments, before Lobsinger finally muttered, "Bloody hell, kupo. Well, at least you're going to have some people backing you up from here on out."

"No, kupo," Lini shook his head, even as a door opened from one of the buildings onto the street, and the rest of Lobsinger's crew poured out. To the two other moogles' curious looks, he said, "I've been telling all the other clans and crews I've met to hold the areas I've cleared out. Don't want anybody creeping up on my back."

"But you can't clear out the entire city, kupo!" Shaw said, looking aghast. "You'll die of exhaustion before then!"

"I don't have to… I just have to find whoever's in charge of the Palace's forces, and take them out."

"I can get you to her," Lobsinger offered, and Lini looked up at that. "I've met with her several times, kupo. I'll leave half of my crew here under Shaw's control, and the rest of us will come with you and back you up."

The mogknight hesitated for a few long moments, clearly unsure whether or not he ought to take the captain up on his offer. At length, he said, "Alright, then. Just make sure you listen to any of my orders, kupo. Pick who's coming with us, and then we'll head out. We don't have much time, kupo."

Lobsinger and Shaw nodded, then turned and headed back to where the rest of their crew was gathered. As they walked over, the mage spoke quietly to his captain.

"So, do you believe me now, kupo?"

The captain chewed on his lip for a few moments. Then, he muttered, "Every Lini the Mogknight in history has had white fur. They all come from the same line; I don't see how there could suddenly be a brown one, kupo."

"You think he's a fake?"

"I'm not sure what I think," Lobsinger replied as they reached the rest of their crew. "All I know, though, is that I've never seen anybody fight like he just did, especially after fighting his way through two hundred guards, kupo. Lini or no, I'll follow him to the end of this."

* * *

Marche was sitting in the room that Rolf had given him on _the Fallen Star II_, meditating, when the knock came at the door. Three sharp raps rang out, and from the straightforwardness and businesslike way they were made, the paladin instantly knew that it was Guinness.

The human took a long, deep breath, and then opened his eyes. The dull, pulsing white light that had been emanating from the air around him dimmed slowly, until it was totally gone. Marche stretched his neck out, then turned to the door, calling out, "Come in!"

The nu mou pushed the door open, and nodded to Marche as he stepped inside. As the clan leader stood up from the floor, brushing himself off, the mage stood, waiting patiently. When the paladin felt properly prepared, he took another breath, then nodded to Guinness.

"Did you need me?"

"Yes. I have some questions and requests about the upcoming battles."

Something about the nu mou's tone caught Marche's attention. He eyed Guinness carefully for a couple seconds before replying, "Yes?"

Guinness hesitated before going on, his brow furrowed as he thought about how to best ask his question. Finally, at length, he began. "On several occasions over the past few years we've been fighting together, you've warned me about taking risks with my magic. Naturally, I've respected your requests, and also the rules of White magic. You always protect yourself first, because you can't aid your companions if you're dead."

"What exactly are you getting at?"

The mage hesitated again, and then simply said, "As my clan's leader, I was hoping that you would raise that restriction from me."

Marche was already shaking his head before the nu mou finished. "That's completely out of the question."

"And why is that?"

"For exactly the reasons you've said. We can't risk the only healer we'll have with us for this battle. If you were to…" The human's jaw set for a moment, but then he went on. "If something happened to you, we would be helpless for whatever came next."

"With all respect, I feel quite certain that _should_ I leave any of you behind to save myself, I will be unable to heal them when the risk is over, because by that point they would be dead."

"All of us have accepted that possibility." Marche's face again looked uncomfortable as he said it, but he pressed on. "My answer is the same."

"Yes, all of our clanmates have accepted the possibility that they'll die. I've also long since come to peace with that possibility. There is one main problem, though, and it applies to you, too: nobody has accepted the possibility that their comrades might die."

The nu mou and the human eyed each other levelly for a few long moments, both of them trying to read the other. It was Guinness who broke the silence, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his head.

"All of you are powerful warriors; I'll never deny that. That said, all of you are also very young. You've all seen battle by now, but you've seen little of war, particularly war on the scale we will be experiencing. I have little doubt that several of us will die in the coming battles."

"And what would you have me do?" Marche snapped. Guinness was surprised by the outburst, and waited as Marche took a few deep breaths. At length, the human shook his head. "I know that many of us are going to die in this. There's nothing I can do to change that. If I could, I would do this alone. But I can't; I'm not strong enough, and the rest of the clan would never let me."

"I know. That's why I need you to let me do what I _must_ do." Guinness crossed his arms. "I am a White mage of no average skill. I have performed miracles that no other mage has attempted in history."

"That doesn't make you immortal, Guinness."

"No, it doesn't. It _does_ mean that I have more tools at my disposal than most White mages get credit for, and if I can use them, I may be able to save more lives. I feel that this would be a better use for my talents."

"You could only _do _that at a significant risk to your own life. I'm not going to let you risk your life needlessly."

"My life isn't worth as much as those of the other members of this clan."

"Don't say that."

"I'm not saying it out of any misplaced self-effacement or desire to end my life. My life _isn't_ worth as much as the other members of this clan." Guinness took a deep breath, then held it for a moment, thinking. Finally, he spoke again, his voice speaking in choppy bursts. "I'm old, Marche. Much too old to be keeping up this kind of lifestyle. I've survived more battles and missions and wars than I have any right to have. All you have to do is to look at the reasons why the members of Clan Nutsy joined up in the first place to understand what kind of life I lead. Everybody else is driven; they have a profound reason to fight the Palace. All of you are fighting so that you can create lives for yourselves once all of this is over. But I already have a life; I joined this clan initially for excitement, and so that I could treat Montblanc's spell rot."

"But you've been one of my most valuable advisors through all of this. You're a key member of this clan. Yes, everybody else here has a goal that they're willing to give their lives for. The fact that you don't have one doesn't make your life worth any less."

Guinness spoke calmly, and without hesitation. "That's it, though; I've realized what my goal has become in this clan. I don't want to let what happened to Robert and Lini happen again. I'm here to keep all of you alive and to make sure you achieve your goals; I'm willing to give my life for that to happen."

Marche didn't reply to that, and Guinness allowed him the silence to think about his words. They remained like that, in a comfortable silence for a good half of a minute, before the human shook his head. He ran a hand through his blonde hair, and then spoke.

"If you do something needlessly dangerous and suicidal, I'll kill you myself. Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

"Alright, then. I want you to know, though; I won't be happy to leave this world if I'm not leaving you behind."

"Also understood, sir. I'll try my best."

"Good." Marche gestured to the door. "Now, I need to finish my meditation. I'll be out in a few more minutes; then we can finalize our plans."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Florence Nash was having a bad idea. She'd woken at dawn, as always, and she hadn't even had time to finish her breakfast before a runner came from a post in the industrial district, claiming that a single moogle had taken the gate there, and was pressing through the town. When she'd ordered ten guards to escort the runner back to deal with the unnamed moogle, the runner had seemed terrified, and had requested more men.

Naturally, Colonel Nash had refused. It was one moogle; how much damage could he do?

When another runner had shown up from a post a good deal deeper into the industrial district, she had changed her opinion. This runner bore a more detail report as well; the intruder was a brown-furred mogknight, bearing a red and a blue blade, and calling himself Lini the Mogknight.

_That_ had gotten her attention. She sent fifty guards and one mage back with that runner, and gave orders for the mage to send up signal flares within an hour to report on the progress.

When an hour and a half came and went, a third runner arrived, panting and looking terrified. The runner had told her that the supposed Lini was still advancing, and that other residents of the city were beginning to rise up beside him. Clans, mercenaries, and former airship crews were all holding the streets that had already been cleared, and all the extras were escorting the powerful mogknight through the city.

After that, she had put the city on full alert. She began sending her own runners to observe and return to her, reporting where the mogknight was. She also sent a contingent of two hundred guards to try and crush the rebellion before it left the industrial district.

The group, at that point apparently numbering only about sixty, tore through her contingent in little time, and continued on relentlessly. When she'd learned of this, her tactics had changed; she began sending out runners to all posts to bring all of the guards in the city to her own position, so that they could make a final stand. By this point, she knew that several hundred warriors were marching with Lini, and that they were relentlessly approaching her position.

Yes, Nash decided as she stood on second level of Baguba's largest airship dock, this was turning out to be a very bad day. In one morning, she'd gone from having a single intruder to a full-scale revolt. Still, she felt confident. As she hefted her own pitch-black blade, she counted her breaths, twirling the weapon in her paw. Nash had been a well-known pirate hunter before signing on with the Palace five years ago. She still had quite a name in the skies after all that time, her skill with the blade unquestionable. More than that, her abilities as a leader and tactician had helped her rise quickly through the Palace's ranks, before becoming a Colonel, and being given control of Baguba after the Palace claimed it.

She'd hoped that her old reputation would endear her to the population. Indeed, at first, the ship captains and clan leaders had held tremendous respect for her. However, when the Palace handed down the orders to seize all of the city's airships, she'd known that her good relations would soon be souring. Since then, it had been nothing but trouble. Between fending off regular pirate attacks and arguing with disgruntled captains and merchants, she barely got any sleep.

She sat up straighter, and her ears twitched a bit as she heard the dim thumping of feet in the distance. Nash narrowed her eyes, and her grip got tighter on her blade. She twirled the black blade in her grip. She smirked as she felt the perfectly dry hilt, not a bit of sweat staining it. She had never felt nervous before a battle, and this was no exception. She met every battle with the same cool indifference, and it was one of the major reasons that she had become so well-known in the skies.

No, she wouldn't allow this to change anything. She took in a long, deep breath, and then stepped up to the railing that wound around the second level of the docks, just as the head of the small army began pressing through the narrow streets and into the main square.

She instantly spied the leader of the army, and her eyes widened slightly. She had heard a variety of reports from her scouts and runners: a brown-furred moogle carrying two blades. Some of them that had gotten closer had managed to point out a few more identifying features. For example, there were odd contraptions attached to those two blades that seemed to act as guns. As well, he had a tuft of white fur on the centre of his chest. This in itself was very odd, as most moogles had uniform fur colours; any kind of mixing was incredibly rare. A judge followed along just behind the moogle, towering over the mogknight's head on his chocobo's back.

Slowly, the army filed into the square. With a quick glance, Nash guessed that they numbered about five hundred by this point. She kept her eyes fixed on the leader, and noticed another moogle standing right by her side. She ground her teeth in annoyance. Lobsinger. He'd joined up with the damn mogknight. Of course he would; she knew from her many arguments with him that Marcus Lobsinger was a fiery and passionate moogle. Indeed, when she'd first heard the reports, she was almost certain that it had simply been Lobsinger and his crew rising up. It appeared as though it was much more, though. If Lobsinger was willing to bow to this brown moogle as the leader, then the mogknight was definitely not to be taken lightly.

As the last of the makeshift army finished stepping into the wide-open square, all fell silent. Nash knew that the mogknight's eyes were fixed on her, just as hers were on him. She knew somebody had to speak first, and she knew that it would have to be her.

So, at last, she cleared her throat, and called out, her voice projecting into the open space and ringing off of the cobblestones. "Who are you, and why do you defy the Queen's law by disturbing the peace with your rabble rousing, kupo?"

A small murmur went up through the gathered moogles in the square, but the mogknight ignored them. Instead, he took several steps forward, separating himself from the others. Then, he called back, his strong voice instantly quieting those behind him. "I am Lini the Mogknight, kupo. I've come because the laws of the Queen are no laws at all, and bear no relevance in the free city of Baguba Port. This is a false occupation, and you can either disband now or face the voice of Baguba."

"Lini the Mogknight?" Nash scoffed, shaking her head. "The last Lini the Mogknight died last year in battle against Biskmatar Llednar, kupo. The line of great mogknights ended with her. What right do you have to that name?"

The moogle easily lifted the two blades in his paws, making their blue and red lengths easy to see. "I am the bearer of the twin blades Avuir! Lini chose me as her successor! More than that, I have been touched by Ultima, and bear the mark of judgement of the tonberries!" With that, he reached up, and grabbed at the fabric of his shirt. With one hard tug, he tore the neck of his shirt down, revealing his chest, and the unnatural white tuft of fur on his chest. It almost seemed to shine, sitting amongst all that dark fur. Barely stopping in his speech, though, the moogle lifted his blades again, and yelled out, "I _am_ Lini the Mogknight, kupo, and you have neither the authority, nor the power to hold me back from that dock."

Nash cursed a bit beneath her breath. She knew what her orders would be from the Queen at this point. Kill the leader, and have all the remainder of the assembled rebels arrested. She knew that that couldn't happen without a good deal of bloodshed, though. Sighing, she glanced up, and then raised one paw, gesturing with it vaguely.

Instantly, all along the roofs of the buildings lining the square, mages sprang up, black light gathering in their hands. Alongside each of the mages, there were at least a dozen archers and gunners, all of them having their shots readied and picked out. Even as the small army amassed in the streets below turned and began yelling out their defiance, there was a large sound of feet on cobblestones. At least three hundred guards, all of the remainder of the Palace's forces in the city, marched out from the dock's tower and more of the surrounding streets, standing around the base of the large tower. They all carried their weapons readied.

Nash felt a small grin creeping to her face as she saw the rebel army backing off a bit, looking slightly unsure. They had greater numbers, true, but the Palace's forces held stronger ground, and she was sure that the rebels had nowhere near as many mages in their ranks.

Much to her surprise, though, the mogknight at the head of the army didn't look at all phased. Even from that distance, she could see his eyes flicking around and checking the locations of all the mages. Otherwise, though, he didn't move as the army advanced on him. The judge at his side likewise didn't retreat, but he did lean down to whisper something to the moogle.

Nash took a deep breath, then called out, having to raise her voice to be heard over the sound of her army amassing around the tower. "I'm certain that your judge is informing you that he can't summon an engagement field of the proper size to monitor this battle, kupo. If you choose to attack, many of these people will die. I hope that you don't force the situation, but if you do, I _will_ retaliate. The choice is yours."

The mogknight looked up at her for several long seconds, clearly considering. Then, he shrugged, and turned to his judge. He said something, and the judge nodded, before disappearing in a small flash of light. Then, he faced the rest of his army behind him. He said something very loudly that Nash couldn't catch, but the mass he was speaking to rumbled. There were a few angry yells and roars, and Nash saw Lobsinger step forward quickly, speaking to the mogknight very animatedly. There was a brief, heated exchange, and finally, the airship captain threw up his arms, and walked away, shaking his head.

Finally, the mogknight turned back around to face Nash and the Palace's forces again, rolling his shoulders. He raised both of the blades, and then brought them around into a ready stance.

"Alright, then. There will be no engagement, kupo. I don't want any casualties, either, so I'll fight your army alone."

Nash blinked, her cool composure faltering for a second. All was quiet throughout the massive square, as everybody stared down at the moogle, trying to figure out whether or not he was just having a poorly timed joke. At length, the colonel managed to find her voice, and replied.

"Er… sorry, kupo?"

"Order your forces to attack me, kupo," the mogknight said, shrugging. "I understand that you don't want there to be too many deaths, so this way, you'll only need to kill one person to put down this rebellion."

"You can't be serious."

In response, the mogknight sighed and shook his head. Then, he raised the red blade abruptly, and pointed it up at her. He yelled out, "_En guard!"_ A loud, metallic clunk noise sounded throughout the square, and suddenly, a shot launched from the barrel of the gun. Nash was so surprised that she only just remembered to lean out to the side and out of the way. She heard and felt the bullet whizzing just shy of her cheek, and slamming into the wall of the tower behind her. She glanced back for a moment, and her eyes widened as she saw that, even from that distance, the bullet had left a dent in the hard wood.

She turned back as quickly as she could to look at the moogle, and saw that he was already charging, alone, across the open distance towards her army. She raised a hand, high enough that all of the mages and rangers on the roofs could see it. She regretted having to do this, but she knew that the mogknight had to be stopped, here and now. She nodded, knowing this was best, then dropped her hand.

Abruptly, incredible lights burst into being from each of the rooftops, as a few dozen mages prepared their spells. Small flames, cracks of electricity, and pale blue shards of ice amassed in the many mages' hands. They all took a moment to aim their blasts so that they would hit where the mogknight was headed, and then, as one, they released their magic.

Crackles and keens of fire, electricity and ice rang out across the open air, quickly building up to an intense roar that was nearly deafening. The sun seemed to dim as immediately, the magics lanced in from points all around the square, centering in on the charging moogle. Nash even had to shield her eyes as the waves of fire, forked tongues of lightning, and great hulks of ice came into being and sent light scattering across the streets.

For a horrible moment, it seemed as if all the gathered magics would just slam into the moogle, obliterating him on the spot. He had nowhere to dodge; the spells were coming in from all sides, cutting off any escape route. However, a few moments before they would have touched against him, the moogle stopped moving. He quickly sheathed the red blade, and then raised the blue one in both paws.

Abruptly, intense, burning light gathered along the blade's edge. Even above the tremendous roaring of the spells all around, everybody could hear the moogle's breath. All of the noise around them dulled, as the sound waves crashed in to curve around the blue weapon's length. In a few short seconds, an incredible charge of energy had amassed along the weapon's edge, and everybody felt themselves being tugged lightly forward, as the moogle's blade called all of matter and time to itself.

Then, as the spells crushed down around him, the moogle swung the blade out, and his voice roared, deafening above the spells and his own magic, "_Ultima!_"

As the moogle spun, his blue blade seemed to turn perfectly white, and leave a trail of whiteness in the air behind it. Although the movement was quick, taking no more than a second, it seemed to last an eternity as he twirled easily on one foot, cutting a swath around him in the air. As the spells smashed in against the white curtain of light that his blade created, they would crackle and splinter, fighting to push through. By the time the moogle had finished his spin, a massive sphere of ice, fire, and lightning had grown up around him. An incredible groaning, roaring sound echoed throughout the square as the spells pushed against each other and the Ultima charge.

Then, finally, the mogknight finished his spin. As his blade came around and touched against the beginning of the white curtain he'd drawn, a perfect circle of white light was formed. The light grew, gaining more and more strength, and as it did, all the noise coming from across the square dimmed. The light's aura rushed out further and further, growing so intense that soon, all that anybody could see was white, anywhere they looked. This, coupled with the perfect silence that had fallen over the square, made for a disorienting experience that none of the watchers could put into words.

And then, abruptly, it was over. Vision and sound came back at once, and more than a few of the onlookers staggered with its sudden reappearance. There were a few moments of confusion and shock as everybody regained their bearings.

Soon, though, everybody's attention returned to the spot that Nash had been watching the entire time, her eyes steady. Standing in the middle of the square was the mogknight, his blue blade visibly simmering even from that distance. Occasionally, a flutter of wind would blow his open shirt a bit, as aftershocks of the intense attack manifested in the air. The air was clear, the spells gone. For several good metres around him in all directions, though, there was a circular trench cut directly into the cobblestones. Beyond that, though, and a slight heaving to the moogle's chest, there was no indication of the spells' effects at all.

Nash felt an odd sensation in the back of her throat as she stared down at the scene. She clenched her blade tightly, and felt the slick sweat along its hilt. She breathed in, and it made a slight raspy noise. It took several long seconds before she realized what was happening.

Colonel Florence Nash, for the first time in her life, was afraid to fight. She was terrified by the idea of having to go up against the true Lini the Mogknight. She watched him gathering himself, standing back up into a relaxed position as he drew out the red blade. He shook his head as the last of the gusts of wind died about him, and then he looked up at the soldiers.

She knew that they didn't stand a chance against him. She took a deep breath, then called out to Lini.

"Wait, kupo."

Without waiting for a reply, she turned, and stepped off of the edge of the dock. She let herself drop most of the way to the ground, before flapping her wings out to lessen the impact. She landed in an easy crouch, surrounded by her forces.

They all backed away from her, giving her room to pass through them as she began walking forward. She saw the confusion on all of their faces, but ignored them, keeping her eyes trained straight ahead.

Soon, the crowd opened up in front of her, and she walked free from the protection of her army. From here, she could see Lini more clearly; his two blades held easily at his sides, the circular gouge ripped into the earth still smouldering. He watched her, curiosity clear on his face, as she approached him.

When she was about twenty metres away from him, she came to a stop. There was silence all around as the two of them sized each other up. They each held their blades pointed at the ground, but their grips were far from relaxed.

At length, Nash broke the silence, clearing her throat. Then, she said, "Fight me, kupo. If you defeat me, the city is yours."

A rumble went through both armies as they heard that. Lini said nothing as he waited for the noise to die down. When he did speak, though, his voice sounded reasonably surprised.

"If you sent your army against me now, you could defeat me. I'm strong, but I can't take down that many soldiers, kupo. Why take a risk and fight me yourself?"

"My answer is the same as yours, kupo. You chose to fight my army alone so as to prevent as many casualties to your side as possible. I know that even if we won, fighting you would result in heavy casualties to my soldiers, and your assembled army could take over easily afterwards. So, let's finish this without the mass bloodshed, kupo."

Lini nodded at her words, and she could have sworn that she saw a look of approval in his eyes. He sheathed the blue blade he'd been carrying, and then turned slightly, raising the red weapon towards her in a ready stance. "Alright, then, kupo. Come at me."

Nash's dark blade slashed forward, the speed of the attack making a loud ripping noise in the wind. As her blade came forward, moonlight exploded from its length, speeding towards Lini. She took a step forward with the attack, then slashed again, and again, moving at a rapid pace forward and sending mog lance after mog lance towards the other mogknight.

Lini's red weapon flicked left and right, picking off the missiles with practiced ease. As Nash closed with him, the mogknight jumped forward, his blade still flashing around to deflect the mog lances. His leap took him clear across the gorge around him, and he landed on solid earth just as Nash closed with him.

The two lunged forward, and their blades melt in a shower of sparks. The contact didn't even last for a second before the two of them brought their weapons back and around, slashing at each other with all of their strength.

Nash was forced a step back by the power behind the moogle's blade. She ducked as another slash came at her, letting it pass narrowly above her ears, before lunging forward in a direct stab at his exposed side.

Lini spun hard, far faster than Nash would have thought possible. His red weapon slammed into the side of her black one, and the force of the blow sent her stumbling away. She managed to regain her balance, and turned to face him again. However, before she could raise her blade, he was there, directly in front of her. Her eyes widened as he lowered his shoulder and slammed it into her chest, knocking her clean off her feet.

She hit the ground hard, and slid several meters before coming to a halt. For several long seconds, she simply lay there, her chest heaving and her eyes wide. She gasped for air, but couldn't get any in. Her paw scrabbled out for the hilt of her blade, even as her lungs burned with need.

As her fingers closed around the steal, she tried to lift the weapon up, knowing that Lini would be coming on any moment. She had just managed to get the weapon off the ground, and was getting her first proper breath of air into her lungs, when a shadow blocked out the sun over her.

Ignoring her own surprise at how quickly the moogle had closed the distance to her, she brought her blade up. He moved faster, though, and kneeled, slamming a knee into her forearm. The force of the blow pushed her blade out to the side, and pinned her arm down. She looked up, and her eyes went wide as she saw the red weapon flashing down towards her. In the instant before it hit, she flashed over to stare at his eyes, and she saw no hesitation there.

The blade slashed down, and it screeched as the point passed through into stone.

* * *

"We'll be coming down soon," Rolf muttered, not looking over at Marche. His eyes were locked on the land before him, his hands steady on the helm. They had been dropping their altitude for some time in preparation for going down, and they were now only a few hundred feet above the earth.

"We're still on schedule, though? Two weeks?"

"Two weeks," the captain nodded.

He didn't go on, but Marche noticed the other human's eyes flicking over towards the front of the ship. The paladin followed his gaze, and sighed as he saw that Eileen was still leaning forward over the banister.

"There's something I should tell you," Rolf said, drawing the paladin's attention back. "My crew and I will fly you through to Ambervale, and we'll fight alongside you against whatever army they send at us… but after that, we part ways."

Marche nodded. "If you were any other captain, I would offer you more funds to convince you to stay longer; I somehow doubt that you would accept that, though. I would like it if my clan still had your services once all this was over, though. You're a great leader, and a powerful ally. Will you reconsider?"

"Last year, two young moogles that I care a good deal for died in this conflict. Whether or not this battle is right or wrong, I can't know. I do know that I'm finished with it, though, and that I won't lose another crewmember."

"I will miss you," Marche replied simply, knowing that he wouldn't convince the captain to stay. "And I still believe that what I'm doing is right."

Rolf cocked an eyebrow over at the paladin for a moment, then shook his head. He looked over towards Eileen again, nodding at the nu mou's back. "Look at her. Do you think that what she's doing is right? Do you think that she's really fighting this battle for the good of the world, and to set things right? Does she have any desire to move forward after she's killed the Queen and the last of her friends?"

"Whatever her intentions are, what she's doing will benefit the side of good."

"And what's 'good'?" Rolf demanded, glaring at the human outright this time. "You're here during a dark time in the history of the royalty. The Palace defends Ivalice's borders, and gives the city guards training to protect the people from raiders. Half of the mage guilds and universities in Cadoan were founded on the Palace's coin, including the same academy that taught both Guinness and Eugene how to heal. You were never here when there were good rulers on the throne; a good ruler like that Prince Mewt could become."

"I'm well aware that Mewt might be more than just the son of his mother, Rolf," Marche replied. He hadn't inteded to get aggressive, but he could feel the soft pounding in his temples that he got whenever he had to argue. "But the past doesn't justify the current atrocities they've committed!"

"Many of those atrocities have been in response to your own actions. Individual clans haven't always had to be in open conflict with the Palace; the Hero Gaol was a beloved guest of the king during his time."

"I haven't asked for any of this, Rolf! If I could just let things be and have them turn out well, I would! But I can't; everything in this world is wrong, and I have to do something about it."

Rolf regarded the paladin carefully, his eyes hard. Marche didn't back down, though, and so, Rolf said, his voice stiff. "Fine. Then I have two things to tell you. First, you didn't _ask_ for this situation, and neither was it _given_ to you. You _made_ this situation with your actions. You've triumphed, and you've failed; it's now up to you to choose how it all ends. Second, and most important. If you feel that the ends justify the means, then your clan's rule will decline faster than the Palace's did." Rolf flicked his eyes towards Eileen again, and Marche understood even before Rolf spoke. "If she enters this battle, you know she'll kill herself to win. Hers is just a portion of the blood that could end up on your hands."

"I know," Marche nodded, not pressing the point. "I've already lost friends, too. I've chosen this path, and I'll follow it through to the end. If others are willing to make sacrifices for my cause, though, I have to let them. That's the way it has to be."

"Does it?"

Marche glanced over at Rolf curiously, and the human went on.

"I once thought that that was true. That sacrifices were acceptable, be they sacrificing the lives of my enemies, or the lives of my own men. That's what I was taught in combat training. But for some time, I've been doubting whether that's the case… particularly since I met Isaac."

"I don't mean it in a bad way," Marche said, measuring his voice and trying to be careful, "But Isaac is dead, Rolf. Even if he had been alive, I don't think he would have been able to pull something like this off… to fight a war without casualties."

"Whether he would have succeeded or not isn't what's important. What matters is that he would have tried." Rolf glanced up to the horizon again, checking their position, then added, "If you intend to hold any credibility after this is over Marche, and if you want to lead, you have to remember one thing: there is no greater good. As soon as somebody's blood is purposefully spilled for the sake of somebody else, then any good is gone. A leader's job is to protect everybody under them, without _any_ exceptions. That's where many leaders fail. Isaac's greatest strength as a leader was that he chose to lead both his allies and his enemies by example. He refused to let those under his command spill their blood, or to spill the blood of his enemies. Unless he could do that, he didn't count it as a victory."

Marche considered the captain's words carefully, managing through great effort to keep any emotion from crossing his face. At length, he said, "Isaac couldn't always manage that, though."

"No. He failed many times. And every time he failed, he strengthened his resolve. He may not have had a perfectly clean conscience or a perfect record. That's it, though: he wasn't perfect. He kept trying. You, yourself, have a far from perfect record at this point. That doesn't mean that you shouldn't try, though. I know that Isaac wouldn't have given up on his ideals so easily, either."

Marche didn't reply to that one. Instead, he filed it away in his head to think about later; that, and a dozen other questions he had for himself. Bringing his mind back to the matters at hand, he asked, "But we have you until we reach Ambervale, though?"

"Yes. So, really, you're getting a pretty good deal." The captain licked his lips, a wry look on his face. "All we have to do is find a way to pierce through the Palace's entire fleet with two airships."

* * *

There was silence throughout the square as Lini knelt there, panting heavily, the hilt of the Avuir Red quivering in his paw. His eyes were closed, and other than the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, he was motionless. That battle had taken more out of him than he'd expected. That Colonel Nash had been stronger than he'd expected; after all the fighting he'd already done, and having used up a charge of Ultima, he was shocked that he'd managed to defeat her so quickly. It was a blessing, though. If the battle had been longer or more drawn out, he would have collapsed from exhaustion in little time.

Taking a steadying breath, he stood up, tugging his blade free. He brought it up, and wiped it off on his cloak, letting the dust and rubble fall from the length. Finally, he sheathed it back at his side, and looked down at Nash.

The colonel was staring at him, shaking. She hadn't moved to look at the point, not an inch from her neck, where he had driven his blade into the cobblestones.

Lini sighed, then muttered, "I suggest that you breathe, Colonel, if you intend to keep living, kupo."

The other moogle, suddenly realizing that she hadn't breathed for almost a minute, sucked in a deep gasp. She gave Lini a confused look, then muttered, "You didn't kill me."

"No, kupo, I didn't. And I don't intend to."

"Why?"

"It's not how I do things."

With that, he turned, and faced Nash's army of Palace forces. He began walking towards them, looking not at all concerned. He didn't even lay his paws near to the two hilts at his waist, instead keeping them relaxed at his sides.

As he approached, the guards closest to him fell away, some of them stumbling to get out of the path of the mogknight. Lini noticed a few looks of confusion or terror on their faces, but he kept his eyes locked forward as they inevitably moved to the sides, giving him a wide berth. There were a few quiet murmurs from the soldiers, and a few more could be heard from Lini's own army behind him, but besides that and the clumping of feet on cobblestone, all was quiet.

Lini finally reached his destination: the base of the dock. Seeing that the stairs leading up were clogged with soldiers, he sighed, and then flapped up to the platform that Nash had been occupying on the second level.

The mogknight turned as he stepped down, and faced the assembled masses. He took a deep breath, watching all of them for a few seconds. Then, at last, he spoke.

"Baguba Port belongs to nobody. For the past four years, many have been laboring under the impression that the Palace had somehow taken it. This is not so, kupo. This city is made up of the people that live and work here, and unless you claim to own the people, you do not own Baguba Port, kupo."

The entire square was silent as Lini took a moment to breathe. The strain of casting Ultima was getting to him. He wasn't sure if he could finish his whole speech at this rate. Still. He didn't have a lot to say. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs from it, he went on.

"I have left Colonel Nash alive, and I have done so for two reasons. The only reason that you need to know of is that her actions prevented many deaths today, including my own. She chose to fight a battle she knew she would probably lose in order to keep many others safe, kupo. For that reason, I have no reason to strike her down at this point, and I hope that all of you will feel the same. Similarly, I won't be passing judgment on any of those who serve the Palace. Those who wish may stay here; those who still believe that they hold any claim of ownership over this city, though, I ask now to leave, for their own sakes.

"I have done my service for this city. Now that I have done it, though, I will not be staying long. All of you have no doubt heard rumors that the Palace and Clan Nutsy are mustering their forces. The majority of the battle will take place on the earth; however, the battle will be decided from the air. I intend to go there and take part in that battle, in the hopes of evening the odds, kupo. I'm not asking any of you to come with me; I simply need a small ship that I can fly out to meet the Palace's fleet.

"That said, should any of you choose to fly with me, I intend to leave at dawn tomorrow morning. You will fly under your own captains, but they will answer to me. I will not stand for anybody disobeying my orders during this battle, if it does take place. If you can live with that arrangement, I will welcome you to fly with me tomorrow morning. For now, I would like a room where I can sleep tonight, kupo, and to have privacy until the morning."

He turned, and began heading towards the stairs that would lead him down. Then, he paused, and he glanced over his shoulder, back at the masses that watched him.

"That invitation is also open to any crews under Colonel Nash's command that wish to take part in the battle. You will be welcome under our flag, kupo."

With that, Lini turned away from the crowds, and headed towards the stairs. There were two sets: one that went along the outside, and one that coiled along the walls of the inside of the tower. It was this inner set that he was headed towards. Nobody tried to stop or follow him, and he appreciated it.

The moogle stepped inside of the tower, and then went down a few steps. He glanced quickly up, then back down, and once he was certain that nobody would see him, he turned, and leaned back against the wall, sucking in deep gasps.

He'd played his cards. He'd done the best he could. Now, all he had to do was wait and see what happened in the morning. Before then, though, he needed some sleep. Somewhere to rest.

Before he kept going, though, he carefully swung his pack off of his shoulder, and held it in front of him. It was almost empty; he'd run out of rations the day before he reached Baguba, so that left a single package wrapped in brown paper inside of the bag.

Carefully, the moogle pulled the paper back, and grinned as black felt greeted him. The mogknight gave the hat in his paws a careful twirl, looking it over, looking at the small orange feather stuck into the brim, looking at that distinctive make that was unique in all of Ivalice.

With a nod, he slipped it onto his head.

Isaac sighed, feeling the familiar weight of the fedora on his head. The moogle took another deep breath, and turned, setting out down the staircase again. As Lini, he was just about done his job. As Isaac, his job was just beginning.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry about how long it took to get this one out… involved a lot of pretty heavy planning, actually. As of this point, for the first time in Casualties history, everything is set. I can officially no longer change the storyline. Everything that will happen, I know. It's terrifying and awesome at the same time.

Other note of worth for any of you that want to read any of my past chapters: the symbols I used as dividers have been edited out by Fanfiction from about chapter 67 onwards (which is appropriately called First Cracks.) Effin'. Yay. So, I'm going to get to work in the near future replacing all of them manually, and until then, please be patient. It's over fifty chapters to work through, so it'll take a while. Thanks.

Finally, I'm toying around with trying a little something. I'm not sure how many of you would be interested in something like this, but I'm going to be having a slightly shorter chapter coming out in a little while. I'm thinking about streaming at least a portion of the writing of it for people to watch; essentially, the idea is that you'll be able to watch me writing it as I'm working on it, and you'd also be able to listen to whatever's playing on my computer at the same time. The site I'm thinking of using for this also has a built in chat feature, so you can ask me any questions that you want while I'm working. Just message me and let me know if you'd be interested in something like that.


	121. Final Preparations

Everybody was tense as Marche stepped into the Nubswood, completely alone. The members of Clan Nutsy in particular had been hesitant to allow their leader to walk into potentially enemy territory. There was a good deal of talk of having Vili and a few of the other more stealthy members of their army shadow him, but Marche had outright denied it. The viera, they all knew, would never fall for such a ruse, and Vili's older sister lived in the Nubswood. There was no guarantee that having the two of them close to each other wouldn't cause a battle.

So, the paladin walked in alone, his sword at his side, and his shield strapped to his back. The acorn emblem of clan Nutsy was clear upon its polished surface, and it flashed once in the late afternoon sun as he disappeared into the impossibly still and terrifying woods. His white-cloaked form was lost to sight soon after, but even then, the core members of his clan remained by the edge of the woods, watching the spot where he had left.

Eileen didn't bother waiting, though. She was fairly certain that he would be back in not too long. Even if Ritz did defeat him, she didn't seem the type to want to kill him. Something about the way she talked about him made Eileen think that there was more than rivalry between them. In fact, it had almost reminded him of how Isaac had talked about Maxwell before—

She stopped in her movement for a moment, flinching and closing her eyes. She bit her lip hard for a few seconds, then shook her head. She started walking again, raising her eyes as she reached the ramp leading back up to the deck of the _Fallen Star II_. They had left _the Red Flash_ and the rest of the army a few kilometres back, figuring it would be better to be as unthreatening as possible on the viera's doorstep. As she ascended the ramp, she was surprised to find Rolf looking down at her, watching her draw near. Grinding her teeth a bit, she straightened her back, putting on her most official and academic airs from her time with the Alchemists' Guild, and approached him.

"You know," the captain said casually, watching her pass, "for a second there, you looked just like Isaac always used to."

"Thank you for reminding me why I was looking like that," she snapped back, trying to keep her voice cool and dismissive. "If you have nothing else to say, I'm heading to bed."

"I actually do have something to say, if your misplaced pride has no complaints."

Eileen turned back to the human, eying him. He met her gaze, his face looking calm and controlled. She briefly considered giving him another venomous reply, but decided that it would require too much effort. So, instead, she simply sighed, and faced him fully, nodding.

"Fine then. What is it?"

"We have to discuss the upcoming battle. I know that you say you have the matter covered, but I'm still concerned. You can't protect two airships from a fleet of hundreds on your own."

"I can, and I will." Eileen brushed her left middle finger over the ring on the digit right next to it, just to remind herself that it was there, then went on. "You just need to concern yourself with flying the ship through. I'll handle the rest."

"No matter what kind of doomsday spell you think you can drop on that fleet, you can't eliminate every threat. Not all attacks come from the head."

That brought Eileen up short. She cocked an eyebrow at the captain, then asked, "What are you thinking of?"

"The Palace has great strength of arms. It's one of the things that has kept them alive for this long. Not to mention, the Queen has bolstered her armies with mercenaries and outlawed clans. However, that's not all that keeps her in power. The Palace's network of spies and informants is well funded and widespread. There are dozens of the Palace's street ears in every city."

"And how does that affect us? It's not as if our approach is a big secret. There's very little information that they can get at this point that will be useful."

"Information isn't my concern. My concern is that it doesn't take too much money to upgrade an intelligent and skilled street ear into a trained assassin."

Eileen blinked. Then, very quickly, she glanced around to see if anybody was listening, before stepping in closer to the captain. "You think the Queen will try to have people assassinated?"

"Two people in particular," Rolf replied. "If you or Marche fell, that would essentially spell the end of the rebellion."

"It would take more than our deaths to end this rebellion…" Even as she was saying it, though, Eileen was considering just what impact their deaths would have.

"Our forces have two great fears going into this battle. They fear having to fight Llednar, and they fear having to fight Maxwell. That said, they aren't afraid, because they see the two of you as their natural counters. A paladin for a biskmatar, and an Ultimate for an Ultimate. If either of you gets killed, then this rebellion will fall apart."

Eileen thought about this for a few long moments. Then, she muttered, "You trust your crew completely, correct?"

"Of course."

"Well, then, we have nothing to worry about."

"How do you figure?"

"Only your crew, the members of Clan Nutsy, and I will be on the _Fallen Star II_. There shouldn't be any risk of assassination from any of them. We won't be running into anybody else until the battle starts."

"And what about _when_ the battle starts? It doesn't take much for a single assassin to slip onto the ship in the midst of all that chaos!"

"We both know that Marche is too powerful and alert for something like that to work on him."

"And you?"

Eileen narrowed her eyes, then looked away. "It won't matter."

"Excuse me?"

"I said that it won't matter. Things will work. If they send an assassin for me, then they'll just be wasting their time."

She turned, then, intending to walk away. She was drawn up short, though, when she felt Rolf's hand clamp shut around her wrist, grabbing her painfully hard. He wrenched her back around, so that she was facing him, and glared directly into her face.

"What are you planning?"

"It's no concern of yours," Eileen replied, trying to sound calm. In truth, she was frightened; she had known that Rolf was an experienced fighter, but she'd never realized just how strong he was when he was being his normal placid self.

"It damn well is my concern." The captain leaned in aggressively, his eyes narrowing. "Isaac was a close friend of mine, and he cared more for you than he did for himself. If he heard the way you're talking right now, he'd—"

"He's dead. It doesn't matter anymore."

"He died so that you would be safe! He fought Maxwell to keep you from having to choose which one of them should die to fulfil that prophecy!"

"No. He died because we weren't prepared for the situation," Eileen replied coldly. "All three of us. We didn't prepare correctly. If we had, we would have known that the Queen probably overheard what we said in that dream, and we would have known the the Siena Gorge is filled with tonberries, and we would've known that the Palace was sending all those extra forces out. Isaac went out there because he wanted to end this war. So, I've prepared our side, and now I'm going to finish what he set out to do."

"At the cost of your own life?"

"If that's the cheapest price."

Rolf kept glaring at her. However, after a few more seconds' uncomfortable silence, he released her wrist. She pulled it back, and resisted the urge to rub the feeling back into it. Instead, she just turned on her heel, and walked away from him, heading for the hatch that would lead her below decks. As she walked, she felt his eyes on her back the entire time.

When she got into the hull of the ship, though, she took a deep breath. Then, she did a quick check of the entire ship, nodding to the various crew- and clanmembers she saw about. The nu mou hated to say it, but Rolf had definitely had a point. All it would take was a single assassin to ruin everything for them.

Once she had finished her search, though, she climbed back above decks, and headed for the ramp down from the ship. She pointedly avoided looking at Rolf, and instead made her way towards the edge of the woods. She saw that a few members of Clan Nutsy were still waiting around there. The nu mou blinked, and looked closer for a second, her heart jumping in her chest when she saw a brown-furred moogle standing with them, looking off into the forest intently. She shook her head, then looked again, realizing that it was just Montblanc, waiting for any sign of his friend's return. The way he stood, though, faithfully awaiting his friend's return, reminded Eileen too much of Isaac. She bit her lip, then turned away, and began walking along the edge of the forest, away from them.

She didn't stop for a few minutes, trying to avoid thinking of any of her friends. Instead, she focused intently on her plans for the battle ahead. All she had to do was wait until the battle was on in full. Then, she could pull her trump card, and blow a hole through the Palace's forces so that she could reach Ambervale. Once she did, defeating Maxwell would be easy, and the Queen…

She sighed. That was where her plan ground to a halt. She was gambling a lot on her theories about the Queen's shield. If the Queen, the apparently Li-Grimm, was the creator of this world, then she ought to have ultimate power. However, she'd left a number of vulnerabilities and back up clauses that could lead to her defeat. It was almost like…

"Like she wants there to be a way out…" Eileen murmured to herself. "Why would she want that?"

The nu mou shrugged, though. The reasons why were beyond her. However, if Remedi was willing to leave a few weaknesses, then hopefully there was another one. Remedi's power was the power of the world in which they found themselves; so, a fragment of the world's power ought to be able to do something against her.

Or so Eileen assumed. Even if she was wrong, though, the nu mou wouldn't be around long enough to regret her mistake.

The edges of the forest made soft noise, giving her something to focus on for a while after that. Though all of the area beneath the trees was silent, as soon as one crossed the boundary into the very boundaries of the woods, the normal noises of life returned. The first birds were returning from the south, reaching this region in the far north of Ivalice. Her eyes caught one bird in particular, a rather plain one with brown and beige plumage. It darted through the branches of the lower trees, but naturally avoided that silent void within the woods. That bird would probably have come all the way from the Koringwood. It might have even been in the forest during the battle there. It might have watched Ben, Isaac, and Maxwell fighting.

"Idiots," she muttered, lowering her eyes to not look at the bird anymore. All of them, always rushing off to fight here or to defend that, and leaving her behind to pick up the pieces. She had barely even spoken to Jacqueline for a few days before she died. She'd had to go and clear the way for Quin to kill himself. She'd been stuck escorting the refugees away when Maxwell and Isaac clashed with Ben. And then, when Isaac and Max had decided that they were going to fight each other to the death, she wasn't given any say in the matter. They'd told her it was happening, yes, but they only wanted her to watch. Not participate, not be an active member.

For all this time, since they'd come to Ivalice, she'd been nothing but an observer. Occasionally she provided support, yes. But she'd had enough. She was making her own decisions, now, and playing out a role she had chosen herself.

All of the Avatars of the Totema were given a gift and a curse. Eileen was well aware of what her curse was.

As soon as Marche got back, she would know whether she would have the rest of the resistance backing her up. Of course, it didn't matter. If the viera wouldn't let them pass through, she would commandeer a ship on her own and fly through to the palace. So, that meant that within the next four or five days, she would have her answer about her mad guess. Either way, she would have blown a large enough hole through the Palace's defences for Marche and the rest of them to fight their way through.

Knowing that there was nothing else for it, the nu mou sat down on the earth. Taking a deep breath, she crossed her legs, and laid her palms down onto her knees. She didn't have as much time to meditate anymore; not since she'd become the Greatspell of the Alchemist's Guild. It would be a good practice to try one last time before her final battle.

It took her longer to relax than she remembered. Whenever she felt her breathing beginning to slow, her muscles would cramp, or there would be an itch on her leg or her nose. Finally, she managed to focus for a few minutes, and she let her breathing slow down into that calm, steady rhythm she used to know so well. Soon, her entire body was relaxing, allowing all of the tension to leak out.

However, despite her physical relaxation, she couldn't find that state of mind she always used to be able to reach. Though she was perfectly comfortable in the physical world, she couldn't make it fade away as she normally could before.

Finally, she stopped, and took a long, deep breath. Then, she stood up. Immediately, she bit her lip, and crouched as a cramp ran up the back of her leg. She grabbed at the muscle, and rubbed hard, cursing beneath her breath. As she did, she was painfully aware of the ring on her left hand digging into the flesh, probably giving her a bruise.

At last, she stood straight, wincing at the residual pain in her leg. She started limping along, back towards the _Fallen Star II_. In the back of her mind, she wryly realised that this would probably be the perfect situation for any would-be assassins to pick her off.

However, she reached the ship with no incident. As she approached, Guinness, who was still standing watch with Montblanc, nodded to her. She began nodding tiredly back, when they both stiffened, turning at the noise of a twig snapping in the forest.

Montblanc was already stepping forward beneath the trees, wrapping an arm around Marche's waist to help him walk. The human was panting heavily, and blood was flowing freely from several shallow cuts and punctures across his body. As well, his cloak was heavily singed, the edges of it still smoking. His shield had a large black smear across its surface, clearly from having blocked magical fire.

As Eileen and Guinness began drawing forward, he held up a hand to silence them. They stopped, and waited for him to reach them with the moogle's help. There, he waited for a few moments, his head held low. At last, he looked up, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"We have safe passage," he muttered, his voice haggard. "We'll rest and prepare for three days. On the fourth day, we march. Understood?"

Wordlessly, the two nu mou nodded. Without any prompting, Montblanc began leading Marche towards the ship, away from the silent forest. As the human passed by Eileen, though, he just managed to rasp out.

"That's half of my side of the bargain. Are you satisfied?"

Eileen licked her dry lips, and nodded. "Yes."

"Good."

Marche continued on, then, with Montblanc helping him and Guinness following close behind so that he could heal his leader once he finally stopped. Eileen remained where she stood, just listening to her breath. It took a few seconds for her to realize that she was shaking.

A/N: So, sorry that that took a long time. This chapter and I didn't agree with each other. I ended up restarting it a good three or four times from the very beginning… difficult one to write. Either way, I'm planning on doing my little stream thingy on Friday the 13th of August, starting at approximately 6:00 PM EDT. Here's the link: www(dot)livestream(dot)com(slash)iceythefoxswriting?t=623855

After I have done the stream, though, I'm going to take a little bit of a break from Casualties. I need to clear my head for a tiny bit, just so that I can get back into my writing mode and be able to write a bit more reliably than I have been lately. This shouldn't be anything super long term; a couple months at most. I'm going to work on a few personal projects, and then come back to finish this series up. Only a few more chapters left!


	122. The Storm Breaks

The mood was different on the ship. There were no real words for it. The weather was the same as before; the same overcast skies that they'd had for the past several days. It was still the same group standing about on the deck of the ship, waiting.

However, the mood was decidedly altered. Everybody on the ship kept dodging glances sideways at each other, possibly to make sure that they were all still there, and possible to try and cement this moment in their memories.

The various members of Clan Nutsy stood around the deck of the ship, wearing all of their battle equipment. Rolf was at the helm, calmly steering them as his chainmail clinked softly in the breeze. Everybody could just make out Eugene far up in the crow's nest, perfectly silent as he reviewed his spells in his head.

At the very head of the ship, Eileen and Marche stood side by side, staring out over the banister at the one thing that was different about this moment from their usual travel on the ship. Looking to the sides, perhaps to the beautiful scenery off to port, or _The Red Flash_ just to starboard, one could have easily missed it.

However, directly in front of them, impossible to ignore, were two large, dark clouds. One, just above, was the massive storm cloud that had been building for days, and that was now barrelling down upon them.

Just beneath, there was the second cloud; one that looked disjointed and odd at this distance. If they hadn't known what they were flying towards, none of them would have been able to guess that it was the entire airship fleet of the Palace that was spanning out before them.

"So… you're sure about that plan of yours, right?" Marche breathed, a soft tremble beneath his voice.

"As certain as I am about anything right now." Eileen was forcing herself to breathe evenly, finding the experience quite an effort. She had known, in her head, what they would be going up against. She'd known that they would be fighting an entire fleet, that they'd be outnumbered by hundreds, and that they would be in no way prepared for it.

That said, there was quite a difference between _knowing_ something and _seeing_ it, spanned out in front of you, preparing to crash around you and wipe you away.

"How long until we… until we meet them?" Eileen said, not turning back to look at Rolf.

"At this rate?" Rolf replied, measuring the distance in his head. "I'd give it about an hour."

"And all of our ground forces are in position?" she asked, this time addressing Marche.

"They should have already started crossing the bridge by this point. If we hold here, we can rendezvous with them, and then engage the fleet at the same time as the ground troops are meeting."

"No," Eileen replied, licking her lips. "We have to start combat while the ground troops are unorganized. That way, we won't have any attacks coming at us from beneath."

"So… forward?"

Eileen nodded, not allowing herself to pause and think about it.

The two ships, _The Fallen Star II_ and _The Red Flash_, set out, their propellers spinning faster as they began lilting forward. Within a few minutes, they had picked up enough speed that there was a soft wind blowing over the deck, billowing their clothing. On an average day, it would have been a comforting thing, the feeling of movement and progress. Now, though, it only brought dread, and the knowledge that both of the storms were drawing closer.

Eileen took a few more deep breaths, going over their plan in her head again. They would try to use _The Fallen Star II_'s superior speed to slip through the fleet with as little incident as possible, while the heavier armed _The Red Flash_ caused as much chaos as possible amongst fleet. Once _The Fallen Star II_ was clear, they would try to escape. Meanwhile, the troops on the ground would draw out all of the Palace's armies, to make sure that Ambervale itself had as little defence as possible when Clan Nutsy arrived. The clan would defeat the queen, capture Mewt, and then return to the battlefield to end the fighting.

Everybody around her was nervous about the plan. They had every right to be, she knew. However, if things did go awry, she had a back up plan. She stroked the ring on her left hand, spinning it slightly in the ring scar it had left there over the past four and a half years. Perhaps it would finally be time to use it.

They flew onwards, the winds growing stronger all around them as they neared the enemy fleet. Soon, the massive storm cloud's trailing wisps were reaching their fingers over them, and a spattering of rain began falling on the ship's deck. Behind her, Eileen heard Caitlin muttering something about hating fighting in the rain. She was about to turn and reply to it, when from up above, a voice called down.

"Rolf! Look to starboard!"

At Eugene's cry, all eyes turned to the right, trying to figure out what the nu mou was talking about it. A gasp rose amongst the ship as they saw another black cloud, flying in from the south towards the fleet in front of them. Everybody stood rigid and silent as they stared, unsure of what to make of it.

"They couldn't possibly have another fleet… could they?" Marche glanced back at Rolf, his eyes uncertain.

"I… no." Rolf decided, shaking his head. "Unless they've had some secret fleet over the past few years that nobody's heard of."

Apparently having heard the commotion, Tifone, clad in a dark cloak and a tough leather vest, stepped up from the hatch and onto the deck. She glanced to Rolf, who nodded to her. Then, she ran straight to the rigging, and started scaling it with practiced ease. Within a few seconds, she was up in the crow's nest next to Eugene, leaning out to try and get a better view. She was holding a spyglass to her eye, and even from where she stood, Eileen could see the magic radiating from it.

"They're moving fast," she called down. Everybody was silent, wanting to hear her words. "Directly towards the Palace's fleet… I can't see anything identifiable on them."

"Whose flag are they flying?" Rolf asked.

There was silence. Then, at length, the viera replied. "Not one that I recognize. It's two bands of red and blue. Most of them look like they're home made or something. Rough stuff."

Again, there was silence. All eyes were on Rolf, whose head was lowered as he considered the situation. Then, finally, he asked, "Who'll reach the Palace's fleet, first?"

"Them. Definitely them."

They went quiet after that, everybody watching as their two ships drew closer to the pair of fleets in front of them. The rain was getting much harder now, reducing visibility to almost nothing. They had to start yelling to be heard by each other over the wind, and occasionally, lightning flashed down around the ships.

Then, abruptly, maybe ten minutes after they'd first sighted the second fleet, something flashed far ahead of them in the sky. At first, they thought it was lightning. However, there was another flash, and then another, all of them clearly happening a few miles off from them. A few seconds later, crashes began sounding, echoing across the distance to finally reach their ship.

Eileen and Marche glanced to each other. Apparently, whoever they were, that other fleet was not a friend of the Palace's. For the first time in many days, Marche smirked, his eyes glinting at the nu mou.

"Well. Now we just might have a chance, won't we?"

With that, the paladin turned, and started yelling orders to his clan members. Rolf yelled something up to Eugene, and there followed a few quick flashes of magic between him and the mage in the crow's nest of _The Red Flash_. Then, as one, the two ships increased their speeds. All around, people began drawing out weapons, and readying spells.

Eileen, though, was too busy watching those far off flashes to really pay attention to all that. She chewed on her lip briefly, before she let her hand slip down to the handle of the Zeus Mace. Carefully, she pulled it off of her belt, and twirled it in her hand. She didn't know how to feel about this second fleet. However, if they were going to give her a better chance at getting through to Ambervale, then she would take it.

And then, even as she was thinking it, there was a flash of lightning just in front of their ship. For one moment, it lit up all of the sky around them. She could clearly see _The Red Flash _beside them, the trained pirate hunters bristling with weaponry as they prepared for battle. Much more surprising, though, was what she saw directly in front of them. For that terribly long instant, the shapes of a number of other ships became painfully clear just in front of them. On their decks, there were more soldiers, looking just as grim and prepared for battle as all of them.

For that split second, everything was clear, and Eileen realized that her final battle was about to begin.

Then, somebody yelled something from the deck of _The Red Flash_. From the corner of her eye, she saw somebody jump up, and point. Another bolt of lightning jumped from this person, and arched outwards, leaping in jagged and erratic patterns. It slammed into the side of one of the ships ahead of them, and with a scream and a hiss, boards splintered or burst into flames. The lightning moved along, drawing a long, zigzagging line along the hull of the ship. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the lightning was gone.

Then, all was dark again, and Eileen could hear screaming and yells for order from the direction of the ship that had been hit. She could just make out the flames rushing across the ship's hull, and she noticed that they were dipping lower, falling away beneath them.

Then, Rolf roared something, and _The Fallen Star II_ jerked as abruptly, all of its engines went up to full capacity. As they roared forward, _The Red Flash_ came alive with lights and yelling, as attack spells flew out from them, slamming into ships all around them.

Eileen turned, and stared with wide eyes at the sight. Then, without warning, another ship reared out from the darkness, and slammed into the side of _The Red Flash_. It reeled awkwardly in the air, but kept itself level. Immediately, as the ship regained its balance, the crews of the two collided airships rushed to their banisters, and battle was joined on the decks.

Eileen wanted to continue watching, but _The Fallen Star II_ turned abruptly, and her view of them was lost. They sailed forward, their engines screaming as they rushed along at the ship's fastest speeds. Somehow, no matter what direction they were turning to avoid ships or magical blasts, Rolf always managed to keep the wind in their sails, throwing them forward even faster.

Suddenly, from up above them, Eugene's voice came down, projected magically. "We have a tail!"

All eyes turned to the back, and they clearly saw that a ship, much larger than any of the others they'd passed, was rising up behind them, keeping pace with them as they sped through the chaos.

"How is that thing keeping up with us?" Marche roared, glaring back at Rolf. "I thought that this ship was the fastest available?"

"It is!" Rolf yelled back, gritting his teeth as he fought with the wheel, keeping it going straight. "We couldn't have possibly gotten a faster ship!"

"Then how is that giant thing gaining on us?"

"Because," Rolf replied, his voice annoyed, but also worried, "I hadn't counted on the Queen sending _The Invincible_ out to battle!"

"_The Invincible_?" Eileen muttered, her eyes widening despite herself. She remembered the massive ship; the one that the Queen and Prince Mewt had escaped on during their failed attack on Bervenia Palace. At that time, they'd only just managed to catch up to it because the enemy crew hadn't known they'd been following. So how would they ever outrun it—

"Everybody, prepare for battle!" Rolf ordered, shaking his head to clear rainwater from his hair. "We have to keep them from getting to the engine room at all costs, understood?"

Even as he said it, they all saw a flash from the ship behind them. A massive ball of flames rushed out from the deck of _The Invincible_, roaring and hissing in the rain as it barrelled down upon them.

Not thinking, Eileen turned, and started running towards the back of the ship, orange light building around her as she went. Once she was close enough, she reached both of her hands out, feeling for the water around her, and cried out, "_Wasser_!"

The spell summoned her own normal ball of water, but the power of the magic also gathered in the rain in the air surrounding her. For a moment, it looked like there was a whirlpool hanging in the air directly in front of her hands, as all of the water sloshed in towards her spell. Then, she flexed her fingers outwards, and water blasted from her in a torrent, flooding over the banister.

It collided with the fireball with a titanic hiss, steam exploding outwards from the point of contact. Immediately, the fireball lost all of its momentum, and after only a few seconds of water, its flames went out, leaving nothing in its stead.

Eileen pulled her hands back, and the water that hadn't been used in her spell simply fell onto the deck at her feet, splashing up over her legs. She ignored it, though, instead watching the ship behind them. Even during the short time that the spell had taken, _The Invincible _had gained ground on them.

The nu mou was about to turn and ask what they could do to get away, when the deck rocked hard beneath her, and a crash sounded from the ship's port side. She looked in that direction, and saw that a small boarding vessel had collided with the side of their ship.

The damage to _The Fallen Star II _was minor, but that wasn't what concerned Eileen. As soon as the smaller craft had collided with them, all of its occupants had jumped out, clear across the banister, and were now drawing weapons as they stepped forward across the deck.

They didn't get far, though. Almost instantaneously, Marche and Caitlin were upon them. The paladin led in with his shield, smashing it into the face of one of the boarders. The tall bangaa yelped in pain, and toppled over backwards, off of the edge of the ship.

For her part, Caitlin simply came in, and her blade slashed out, slamming into a viera's rapier. Moving with remarkable speed, the human's free hand grabbed the hilt of her sword, the one with the red ribbon attached to it, and drew it forth. In one simple motion, she slipped it forward and into the viera's chest.

The two humans kept moving, their weapons never stopping as they cut through the boarding party with remarkable ease.

Realizing they wouldn't have any trouble from that attack, Eileen instead turned her attention to the helm. She was surprised to see that Tifone was there, steering them carefully forward. Eileen looked around for Rolf, a spike of fear rising in her chest that the captain had been taken down by some attack she hadn't noticed.

Her surprise only grew, though, when she noticed that the human was standing quite close to her, right at the rear banister of the ship. He was staring carefully at _The Invincible_, not blinking despite all of the rain whipping into his eyes.

As Eileen watched, Rolf lowered his head slightly, and his body relaxed. Then, yellow fire burst to life all across him, wrapping him up and nearly obscuring him from view. He remained like that, breathing rhythmically as the fire danced across his body.

Eileen's trained mind instantly identified that yellow fire as the colour of illusionary magic. She turned, and as she expected, saw chaos beginning to break out across _The Invincible_'s deck. Crew members were shivering, and sticking their hands into their armpits. She even saw one nu mou slipping on the deck and falling onto his back.

And, so, _The Invincible_ slowly began losing speed. Within a minute, the distance between the two ships began widening, and without needing any orders, Tifone turned the wheel ever so slightly. Their ship tilted back and upwards, and they started rising. Eileen was confused what they were doing at first, and then she blinked as she realized what they were doing. She was about to call out and stop them, but as she opened her mouth, it was suddenly filled with thick, heavy mist. They passed into the stormcloud, and kept rising, even as everything around them turned to dark wetness.

For about half a minute, they were locked in that obscuring mist, unable to see where they were or what they were doing. Eileen hoped that Tifone was as good of a steerswoman as Isaac had always said, because she would need to be to get them through such a thick cloud without turning them around or flipping them upside down.

Just as she was about to lose hope, though, Eileen's head came out of the cloud, just over the top. She gasped, and realized that she'd been holding her breath. Moisture dripped from her fur, soaking into her robes as the rest of the crew and the deck of _The Fallen Star II_ pulled up above the cloud.

She panted heavily, and looked around. Everybody else was just as drenched as her, and she saw a thin layer of cloud water dribbling off of the deck. Marche and Caitlin both looked thankful for the wetness, though, as it had washed the blood from their clothing and weapons. Eileen saw the small pile of dead bodies around them, and shook her head in awe. The two of them had kept fighting even when they were in the cloud. Sometimes she forgot how powerful the members of Clan Nutsy were. Then, they would do something impossible like that, and she was reminded.

Beside her, she saw Rolf sighing, and standing up straight. He shook his head, letting the water fly from it like a dog. Finally, he glanced over his shoulder to Tifone, and nodded to her. "Good flying."

Tifone started nodding, but Eileen interrupted before she could reply.

" 'Good flying'? Are you kidding! You just took us through a storm cloud! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? We could've been blasted with lightning at any second!"

"Was it any more dangerous than staying in that chaos down there?" Rolf asked, cocking an eyebrow at Eileen. "At least this way, we're clear of the combat, and we've thrown off _The Invincible_. We can keep on flying up here until we reach Ambervale."

"Good work," Marche said, stopping any other protests Eileen might have had. "At least this way, we can rest a bit before our next battle. So, in that case why don't we…"

Marche stopped suddenly, his body going rigid. Everybody stared at him, wondering what was wrong. The paladin was tense, all of his muscles twitching a bit as he glanced around lightly.

Then, with amazing speed, he turned, his knightsword jumping from its sheath. He started bringing it down at one of the bodies at his feet, but just as he would have it, the body rolled hard to the right and out of the way.

It came out of the roll and up to its feet, and from there, everybody could see that there wasn't a single wound on it. A thick length of fabric was wrapped around the intruder's face, obscuring any details of it or his hair from view. A long, curved knife sat in his hand, and he lunged forward with it while Marche was off balance.

The paladin forced himself to turn awkwardly, getting one of the plates on his armour to take the hit. The knife clanged uselessly off of the heavy steel, and the assassin jumped back.

As he did so, Caitlin took the opportunity to rush up behind him, swinging down with both swords. The assassin heard the noise, and turned just in time to slip his body between the two descending blades. He raised a hand, and yelped out a quick word. A small jet of flames scattered out, and Caitlin stumbled back with a yelp as they scalded her face.

The assassin twirled on his foot, turning to face Marche again. He cried out, and just managed to yelp back out of the way of a swipe from the paladin's knightsword. He twirled the knife in his hand, and then stepped back forward, slamming it against the back of the sword, clearly trying to knock Marche off-balance.

Eileen was surprised as she watched how he moved. It wasn't like he was fighting. It seemed as though each movement was an expression, something that was felt throughout the assassin's entire body. She wasn't certain why, but she found it odd to watch, as he dodged another slash, and brought his knife around at Marche's arm.

The paladin sidestepped the blow, then thrust forward with his shield in a hard punch. The thief just managed to get his knife in the way of the punch, but he cried out in slight pain at the force of the block.

Not wasting his opportunity, Marche stepped in closer, and swiped outwards with his sword. The assassin ducked beneath the slash, and as he did, Marche stopped his arm's momentum, and brought it back down hard. He was too close to get his sword into the movement, but he managed to slam his armoured elbow down into the assassin's unprotected shoulder.

The assassin yelped, and collapsed beneath the blow, hitting the deck hard. Instantly, Marche was on top of him, using his greater weight to pin the assassin and get his sword's blade pressing against the assassin's throat.

Marche panted for a moment as the two of them lay there, recovering from the battle. Then, Marche released his grip on his shield, and brought the free hand up. He grabbed the fabric covering his assassin's face, and deftly tore it off.

There was silence throughout the ship as everybody stared down at the face of the would-be-assassin. To Eileen, the crew, and the members of Clan Nutsy, he just looked like a boy, perhaps two years younger than Marche, with a shock of dark red hair. Marche, though, clearly recognized the face, as his mouth hung open and his body froze up.

"Doned."

The smaller human could barely meet the paladin's eyes as he replied, "Hey, Marche."


	123. Red and Blue

"Ten minutes until contact!"

"You hear that, kupo?" Captain Marcus Lobsinger yelled, thankful as always that Shaw had provided him with a spell to enhance the volume of his voice. If it weren't for that, then there was no way that his crew would ever hear him over the sound of the storm. He pointed up to the crow's nest for effect, and kept bellowing at his crew. "Ten minutes! In ten minutes, all hell is going to break loose! If you're not ready then, you never will be, got it?"

He strode across the deck, keeping his knuckles held in a tight grip at his sides. He was waiting for it, the moment that they would close the last few hundred metres between them and the enemy fleet, and chaos erupted across the decks. He wasn't sure whether he was excited or terrified; he'd taken part in many aerial battles in the past. However, never anything on this scale, or with such major consequences.

The captain sighed, and shook his head, then glanced up to the prow of the boat. Standing there, his footing steady despite the rocking and the wind, was Lini. The brown moogle was wearing a simple cloak over his battle gear. From there, Marcus could just make out the two swords, strapped at either of his hips so that their hilts jutted up just short of his paws. The mogknight had donned an odd hat, the make of which Marcus had never seen before. It looked to be made of black felt, with a thin brim and a pale orange feather stuck into it.

Struggling, Lobsinger walked up the deck, already wet with rainwater, until he stood just behind the other moogle. He waited a few moments, considering his words, before finally saying, "Ten minutes, sir."

"Don't call me sir, kupo," Lini replied, glancing back at the captain for a quick instant. "You're the captain on this ship; you're the only sir here. I'm just a passenger, and I'll be leaving you in about ten minutes."

"I don't know if I like your plan," Lobsinger said hesitantly, flinching a bit when he saw the mogknight look up. He was surprised to hear the other moogle laughing, though, and he slowly relaxed.

"Well, it's nice to hear somebody speaking plainly to me for a change," Lini said, shaking his head. He turned around, and fully faced the captain. "I appreciate your concern, Captain Lobsinger, but it would be better placed in other areas, kupo. I'm getting off of this ship because, as soon as this battle starts, I'll be a target. It's safer for everybody, myself included, if I'm on my own. Besides, I have to operate alone if I want to find my target, kupo."

"And who would that be, kupo?"

Lini licked his lips, and for the first time, looked somewhat uncertain. "My best friends. And let's hope neither of them want to kill me, for one reason or another."

Lobsinger eyed him for a moment, his eyebrow cocked. Then, he muttered, "You've lived an interesting life, haven't you, kupo?"

"More interesting than I'd like, kupo," the other moogle replied. He returned his gaze to the approaching mass of ships, and shook his head. "And about to get even more interesting, I reckon."

The captain nodded, and followed Lini's gaze. "Been quite a while since I had a fight without any judges present."

Marcus didn't miss the tightening in Lini's shoulders, or the slight twinge in his voice as he replied, "You know, kupo, you don't have to be here. Nobody will think less of you if you choose to back out now."

It was the captain's turn to laugh this time, shaking his head and clapping the surprised mogknight on the back. "You know, kupo, you just might be right about that. Nobody else would think any less of us. But _we_ would, and that's far more damaging, if you ask me. Wherever you end up in this battle, kupo, we'll be backing you up from somewhere."

Lini nodded, and then reached up with his left paw, tugging the brim of his strange hat down against the wind. "I feel much more comfortable knowing that, captain. Now, go and tend to your crew. Only about five minutes left, kupo."

With a nod, Captain Lobsinger left, and Lini focused his attention fully on the coming task.

Isaac knew his way around a battle on an airship better than most. He knew that he was probably one of the best people in the world for this job. Few others would have the skill required to track down a single airship amidst a massive battle, particularly with the added complication of a thunderstorm obscuring any vision. That said, he was still nervous. There were a lot of people's lives relying on him being able to track down _The Fallen Star II_. Not to mention, it was going to be chaos. His survival would have as much to do with luck as it would with his own skill.

Still, the die had been cast. He had no choice now but to do what he'd planned for since the beginning. He cast his eyes over his shoulder, and up to the flag flying from their mast. One red stripe, and one blue. One stripe for Jacqueline, and one for Ben. He turned his eyes back to the approaching fleet, and set his gaze.

Those last few minutes seemed to crawl by, going slower than they had any right to. The moogle closed his eyes for much of the time, trying to relish the feelings. The rocking of the ship. The whistling of the wind. The rain against the deck. The slick feeling of his fur plastered against his skin. It was ending. This would be the last time that Isaac would get to relax in this world. The last time that he wouldn't be fighting for his life.

"To your posts, kupo!"

Captain Lobsinger's voice roused Isaac, and the mogknight opened his eyes, looking out. Not a hundred metres in front of them, the Palace's ships were turning as sharply as they could manage, trying to face them and maybe get a few blasts of magic off before the true battle was begun.

They were already too late, though. With a great, thunderous cry of orders, mages on each of the ships making up the leading line of Baguba's fleet let loose their spells. The air came alive with lightning, fire, and ice, and here and there, meteorites cut through the cloud cover to explode on the decks of ships. Crashes and horrible splintering noises rang out all around them, loud enough to set all of their ears ringing. Before them, the first line of the Palace's ships began losing altitude, their propellers and masts damaged beyond any workable condition.

Isaac averted his eyes from the sight of the ships plummeting away, and the dozens, if not hundreds of different crewmembers that had just been killed. He'd prepared himself for this. He would mourn for their passing later. Now, he had to work.

As their ships continued pushing forward, past the burning and falling wreckages of the ships they'd destroyed, Isaac took a couple steps back. He sighted on a smaller ship that was swerving in to try and cut them off, a full crew of boarders on the deck.

He glanced over his shoulder, and was surprised to see Captain Lobsinger standing right next to him. The Captain already had a trail of soot covering his face, the smoke of the burning ships around them staining his fur.

The two moogles nodded to each other then.

"Good luck, kupo."

"Try and stay safe, kupo. This battle is for all of Ivalice. That includes you and your crew. Goodbye."

With that, Isaac turned. He ran forward, his feet sending up small splashes in the rainwater covering the deck. He reached the railing, and as thunder roared and spells continued discharging all around, he jumped, travelling clean over the banister. His wings flared outwards, and he flapped hard, using his momentum to propel himself as far forward as he could.

The surprised crew of the ship he was targeting had no time to swerve out of the way. Not that they would have; what did they have to fear from a single moogle?

The crew of the small ship remained confident, even as the flying moogle's paws came down, then drew out the two blades at his sides. He swept them out to his sides, holding them as though they were a second pair of wings.

The crew rushed forward towards the point where he would land, their weapons bristling.

The moogle landed an instant before they reached him, though, balancing easily on a single foot. He brought the other forward, stepping into the motion as he leaned towards the crewmembers charging at him. He swiped both blades out, and for a few seconds, the entire deck was awash with silvery light as his weapons burst out, sending a twin pair of scythes made of moonlight towards the masses.

Of course, with the distance between them, all of the crewmembers had more than enough time to duck beneath the blasts of moonlight. One human at the head even managed to deflect part of the attack with his shield. He rushed forward, ahead of his fellows, and brought his sword out in a quick stab at the moogle.

Isaac brought the Avuir Blue around in his left paw, slamming his opponent's swordtip down into the deck. His strike was so powerful that the human couldn't even tug the weapon free from the planking.

Isaac stepped by the human, giving him a hard rap on the back of the head as an afterthought. As the human collapsed, he brought both of his weapons up, blocking a surprised nu mou's mace between them. He easily forced the weapons up, turning hard to press his back tight against the nu mou's front. He used the surprised larger creature's bulk to shield himself as he blocked a pair of sword thrusts coming at him from two more humans. He slapped the two weapons as hard as he could, sending his two opponents stumbling off to either side of him. Then, in a fast movement, he drove an elbow back, into the gut of the still off-balance nu mou. The large creature wheezed, then collapsed.

The two humans who'd attacked him before came back in, their swords working in perfect unison with each other. One came in high, and another one low in hard chops at the moogle. Isaac stepped into the blows, slashing out and catching the low attack with the Avuir Blue, while the red blade picked off the higher attack. As he blocked the two weapons, killing their momentum, he spun hard, bringing both of his weapons around at the sword opposite to the one they'd parried. The two humans staggered, trying to bring their weapons around into stronger blocks. They didn't go fast enough, though, and so Isaac easily managed to sneak his blades around, and leave small but deep cuts in the humans' arms. They weren't deep enough to cause any major permanent damage, but nevertheless, both of the humans' swords fell to the earth. Both of the humans fell back, clutching at their arms to stem the flow of blood, as Isaac turned, bringing his weapons around in positions to block any incoming attacks from the others on the ship.

Everybody hung back, staring at the moogle after that brief exchange. His fur was already soaked with rainwater, and he was dripping liberally on the planking. He watched them all carefully, waiting for one of them to make the first move. In his position, it wasn't a good idea to initiate combat.

Finally, as the silence between Isaac and the crew of the ship drew on amidst the roaring of thunder and battle around them, the moogle noticed one viera tensing her muscles just off to his right, preparing to advance. Not thinking, Isaac let the Avuir Right flash out to point at her, and in the same action he pulled the trigger by its hilt. A shot rang out, and the viera yelped, taking a pained step back. As soon as she had regained her balance, though, she got back up to her feet, and turned upon her crew member beside her. Her rapier came out, and in a swift motion, she drew a long, shallow slash across the bangaa's chest.

Then chaos broke out, as Isaac emptied the rest of his clip into the ranks of the crew. Weapons came out, and fighting erupted across the deck. Isaac joined in, laying about and using his two blades more as batons than as swords. The crew was too busy fighting amongst themselves to even pay attention to the moogle that was laying them all low.

The rest of the battle only took two minutes; it ended as Isaac slipped deftly between a bangaa and a human that were exchanging blows. He timed his movement perfectly so that both of them were staggering back as he stepped in, and then he jumped, and swung both blades around. With loud thuds, the flats of both weapons slammed into the sides of the two combatants' heads. They fell to the slippery deck before Isaac had even landed.

The moogle did a quick check of the rest of the small ship to make sure that nobody was still standing. He paused when he found a tall human lying on the deck with a large gash in her leg. Kneeling, he dealt her a quick blow to the forehead, knocking her out. Then, he looked at the wound. She would bleed out if it went untreated.

Isaac reached out, and laid his paw over the parted skin, taking a deep breath to gather his focus. Amidst the irregular flashes of lightning and magic, and the all-encompassing darkness of the storm clouds, a pale silvery light came off of the moogle's paw, sinking into the cut. The bleeding slowed, and the skin started stitching back up. After a few moments, Isaac pulled his paw away, and surveyed his work. There was still a nasty welt all along her leg, and the bruising from the internal bleeding would hurt something fierce. She would live, though.

Nodding, Isaac stood up, and surveyed the ship. It was small enough; really just a boarding vessel. From what Isaac could tell, it had no engines. It was simply being powered by magical energy. No doubt, a craft designed specifically for sending out, loaded with fighters, to harry an enemy ship before returning back to its home vessel.

The moogle had experience with such vessels; he'd fought many pirates that had used the strategy over his years with _The Red Flash_. It was a ship that wouldn't last terribly long, but it would be fast, and more than good enough for his purposes.

Nodding to himself, Isaac stepped over to the ship's helm. He glanced around at the battles going on around him; blasts of magic, boarding parties, and volleys of arrows filling his vision. Occasionally, a flash of lightning would tear down and through one of the many ships flying through the chaos, and the ship in question would start plummeting, wreathed in flames.

It would be a gamble taking his attention off of them. It would be even more of a gamble revealing his existence to his enemies so abruptly. But, then again, he had to do it. The only way he could possibly find his way to Eileen or plan his next move after that would be to go looking for the information.

If there was one thing that Isaac was good at, it was finding information about his friends.

And so, Isaac knelt down, resting his forehead against the helm of the ship. He closed his eyes, and took a long, deep breath, steadying himself. He forced the sounds of battle from his ears, and shut himself off from the universe. Then, he started thinking about Maxwell; the bangaa he'd fought alongside, the dragoon he'd come to fear, and the friend he'd trusted with his life.

A smirk crossed the moogle's face as he imagined what the bangaa's reaction would be when he learned that he was still alive.

And, with that, the moogle's entire body relaxed, and his conscious mind fled his body and the scene of battle.


	124. The Runeseeker's Gambit

"You look nervous."

The voice, cold and calculating, spoke from directly behind Maxwell. More from practice than any real force of will, the bangaa managed to avoid turning around and facing the voice. Instead, he kept his eyes facing stubbornly forward, watching for any intruders as he answered.

"Not nervoussss, my Queen. Sssssimply anticcccipating our coming victory."

"You are so certain in the abilities of those rogue clans and mercenaries we hired that you think Clan Nutsy couldn't pierce them?"

"Hardly," the bangaa scoffed, directing his gaze outwards. He stood at the top of the arching entrance to the palace at Ambervale, his feet brushing small clouds of dust off of it as he shifted his weight. The stone, yellow with age, stretched down to the palace's main entrance, over eighty feet beneath him. The massive double doors to the ancient palace were sealed shut beneath him, a great iron chain whose links were thicker than the bangaa's body barring off the path. For several hundred feet in front of him, ancient pillars lined the way to the main entrance to Ambervale, the massive structures stopping just at the edge of the abandoned surrounding city. Far below, he could just see the rest of the hand-picked group of guards protecting the front gate of the palace. At their head stood Llednar, the biskmatar's knightsword held naked at his side as he gazed out over the ruined city of Ambervale. Maxwell tilted his own eyes forward, noticing, but not reacting to the massive stormclouds on the horizon. Even from this distance, he could see the occasional flashes of coloured light exploding from beneath those clouds; the only evidence of the great battle taking place.

At length, the dragoon spoke again, his eyes never leaving the scene of the distant battle. "No, Clan Nutsssy will make it through that battle; I have no doubt about that. The Ultimate of the nu mou will probably make it through, assss well. However, onccce they get here… between Llednar and I, they'll fall to piecccesss."

"Good to hear that you're confident, my dragon," the queen's voice breathed. "You're certain that you'll be able to control yourself enough to destroy the Alchemist?"

"Naturally," Maxwell replied, an odd, reptilian purr coming to his voice. It was something that, a year ago, he would never have been able to do. He licked his lips, and grinned at the thought. "I am in complete control. I don't think that the true Maxsssswell hasss been remotely ssssssane ssssinssse I took up residencccce in hisss body. There isss little, if anything, left of him here."

"That's what I like to hear from my dragon," the Queen's voice replied. "When they arrive, tear them apart. I don't want them to have the slightest chance of touching my prince."

The dragoon rolled his eyes, but kept his voice perfectly respectful as he replied, "Of coursssse, your highnesssss. All for the princccce."

"Good… also, the two of you should be expecting a guest very soon."

Maxwell didn't have to be told that the Queen was now speaking to both him and Llednar through her magic. Down below, he saw Llednar move slightly, casting his gaze around entrance, looking for any intruders.

"I believe the Prince's former body guard is trying to intervene…" the queen said in reply to some comment from Llednar. "Good luck in handling him. Oh, and Llednar… duck."

Even as she said it, Maxwell's eyes widened as he saw a flash of light from directly behind the biskmatar. Llednar's head went down violently as a mace swung out from the light, cutting a hard arch through the air.

Llednar used his momentum from the duck to roll forward and away from his opponent, then turned as he came up to his feet. He was just raising his sword, when a voice echoed across the otherwise silent space.

"_Explodiert!_"

Instantly, there was a roaring of flame and sound, and Llednar was thrown bodily through the air, smoke rising off of his body. He hit the ground hard, ten full metres back from where he'd started, and slid a good distance further before he came to a stop.

Llednar was barely up to his knees, when there was another pair of flashes. The first one was in the exact same spot as the original flash, and the second directly behind the biskmatar. Then, a white-furred hand reached out, and yanked back on the human's hair, forcing his head back. That same mace came around, and a sharp spike jutting out of its head came to a rest against the human's throat, hanging there steadily.

That same voice spoke again, resounding off of the ancient stones all around them.

"Tell me where Prince Mewt is, or I'll test just how far your immortality goes, shadow."

All was silent as the guards that Llednar had brought out with him watched on, unsure how to act. Firstly, their commander was captured. Secondly, more than a few of them had either worked with or been hand-trained by Babus. And so, they had no idea how to react to finding that same nu mou, so long one of the head generals of the Palace's forces, threatening Llednar so openly. The runeseeker's chest was heaving, but other than that, he showed little sign of exertion.

Maxwell just watched, a knowing grin on his face. The nu mou had made a grave mistake. Best to just sit back and let Llednar handle it.

Far below, the biskmatar sighed, then said, as though bored, "Babus Swain. Skilled Black mage; many thought you were a prodigy. Branched off naturally into the study of time magic by the age of twelve. You found that studying even the most powerful magics available wasn't enough for you, so you began training in hand to hand combat with a group of bangaa, easily making you one of the most skilled nu mou in melee combat. At sixteen, you began studying the ancient runes passed down in individual manuscripts and scraps of paper from the Time of Plenty. At seventeen, you found that you could actually understand the runes, and cast some of the magic of the ancients."

"None of that is an answer, Twem," the nu mou growled. He pulled tighter on the hair, and leaned in closer to the biskmatar's ear. "Where is Mewt?"

Completely ignoring the nu mou's words, Llednar just rolled his shoulders, and murmured, "Well… this might actually be a challenge for a change."

With that, he released the tension in his neck, which had been keeping the nu mou from tugging his head back all the way. His head snapped back, and slammed into Babus's face, sending the spellcaster sprawling backwards and clutching at his face.

Llednar spun quickly, thrusting his empty hand forward towards the nu mou. His fingers flared out, and his voice commanded, "_Abgrund_."

Blackness rushed out from that hand, sweeping out for an instant, before homing in upon Babus. The nu mou was still on his back from the previous attack, but he managed to swipe out with his mace at the approaching attack. Pale blue light flashed from the weapon, and the darkness was cleft in two, falling to either side of the nu mou.

Llednar took a step forward, brandishing his sword at the fallen nu mou. Even as the biskmatar started moving, though, Babus disappeared in a flash of white light. Llednar spun quickly, predicting that the nu mou would try and get behind him again.

Despite the human's great speed, though, before he had even finished his spin, Babus had appeared a few dozen feet behind him, and raised his hands. The nu mou called out, "_Die Stille_!"

Blue light flashed from Babus's hands, and abruptly, Llednar's spin halted, and he remained frozen in position, his knightsword held out in position to strike. Normally, that ought to have been it. However, Babus remained in his casting position, his eyes narrowed and his muscles tight. For a few moments, Maxwell didn't understand. After a few seconds, though, his eyes widened as he saw the nu mou fidget a bit, and the biskmatar move the smallest of inches. More pale blue light flooded to Babus's hands as he fed more magic into the spell, trying to hold the human back, but relentlessly, Llednar moved forward.

The two remained there, moving little but for their occasional jerks and fidgets. Then, slowly, Babus reached out with one hand, the motion laboured and slow. He closed his eyes as the second hand pointed out, off and away from Llednar, and his forehead creased with concentration. After several long moments, he finally managed to force the fingers of the hand out, until they were pointing directly at the base of one of the many pillars lining the area. Llednar, at this point, had finally just placed both feet on the ground, and was beginning to take a step towards the nu mou.

Babus sucked in a breath, his eyes still clamped shut, then commanded, his voice tight, "_Explodiert_."

For an instant, the blue light flooding down to his right hand, pointing at Llednar, flowed down instead to his left. It flared up with the power of the light, and then jetted out for an instant. In that second, Llednar charged forward, still moving slowly, but much faster than before. He rushed in, easily closing the distance between himself and Babus. As he brought his knightsword around at the nu mou's side, though, the runeseeker's left hand came back down, and blue light exploded from both hands as he reinforced the spell holding Llednar in place.

The biskmatar froze in place, even as an explosion rang out from the base of the pillar. There was a horrid creaking noise, and the eyes of all those watching fixed on the pillar, watching as cracks and stress marks spread out like spider webs along the aged stone, moving up its length. Dust fell from the structure as it groaned and creaked, and all the while, Babus and Llednar were locked in place, staring at each other.

Abrutply, Maxwell felt an odd chill go up his spine. He shivered, biting his lips softly, and glanced around, taking his eyes away from the battle beneath him for an instant. What had that been? The feeling was familiar… where had he felt it before?

His attention was drawn back down to the scene below as suddenly, the rocks supporting the base of the pillar groaned, and then screamed as they split. There was a horrid moment of silence as it hung in the air, before the massive length of the pillar slipped down, its severed base crashing into the ground. It remained standing up there for half of a second, before it began toppling, inevitably, leaning down towards the nu mou and the human.

With all the precision of a planned demolition, the length of stone came down, aiming directly for Babus and Llednar's prone bodies. Babus shook slightly with the vibrations of the collapsing structure, but otherwise he didn't move as the several hundred tons of solid rock came down towards him. A grim look was painted across his creased face, as he waited… waited…

Then, just as the pillar slammed into the slightly taller human's head, there was a flash of light, easily missed amongst the dust and the cracking stone. In a second, Babus disappeared, and then reappeared in a second flash of light several metres back from the ruined pillar. As his teleportation ended, he fell back, gasping and panting for air. Bits of debris and cobblestone, knocked loose by the impact, flew by him, and one or two rained down over him, but he took no notice, too busy as he was catching his breath.

Aside from the remaining echoes from the impact, there was silence all throughout the area. The guards that Llednar had brought were all too busy staring at the nu mou, shocked at the show of magical ability. Maxwell, for his part, had to look away again as that odd feeling of being watched returned. What was that…?

Then, there was an odd noise from below, as several of the large rock fragments from the pillar shifted. Everybody stiffened, except for Maxwell, who kept looking around, trying to find the source of his strange feeling.

As the rocks lifted abruptly, Maxwell's eyes widened. Even as Llednar pulled himself up from under the collapsed pillar, the bangaa recognized where he had felt this sensation before. It was the feeling that he got from the Queen's granted power… the power to know when one with a Third Eye was watching him…

Far below, Llednar straightened his clothes. Aside from a few spots of dust, they were unmarked, much like the rest of him. Babus stared on as he bent down, then rummaged about in the rubble for a few moments. He stood back up, holding his knightsword.

"You're impressive, Babus Swain," the human said, walking towards the collapsed nu mou. Babus stumbled back, exhausted, and looked around for an avenue of escape. Llednar raised his weapon as he approached. "Unfortunately, you seem to have become quite a threat to the prince. I can't allow that."

As the biskmatar brought his knightsword down, Maxwell turned around, and headed back towards the staircase that would lead him into the Palace proper.

"You missed the best part…" the Queen's voice whispered into his ear.

Maxwell ignored her calm tone, and simply said, "Isaac issss watching me."

"…what?" It was the first time that Maxwell had ever heard the Queen sound surprised.

"Isaac. He'ssss alive. He'sssss coming here."


	125. Brothers

Isaac's body tensed, and he straightened sharply, the wind and the rain still pelting him. He glanced around quickly, his breath coming hard, and checked on his status. Everybody around him on the deck of his small ship was still unconscious; that, at least, was good.

Much to his own surprise, though, there was no combat going on immediately around him. He could hear the explosions and the yelling and the cracking of destroyed wood not too far away, but it couldn't be closer than a few hundred metres. The battle had already moved on past his position; either that, or he had drifted in the wind away from the front.

Still, around him, he could see the remainders of the hulls of ships from the battle floating around him. Most of the time, when a ship sustained major damage, it would simply plummet, taking its entire crew with it. Occasionally, though, a crew got lucky, and though their ship maintained massive damage to its integrity, the power keeping it aloft would hold. About him, there were a few such wrecks; the remainders of the crews, no matter what side they were on, were too busy trying to salvage what they could to continue fighting with anybody.

Isaac sighed, and turned his attention away from them. A number of them would probably die if he didn't help. However, if he didn't focus and ignore them, then many more people would likely die. He had his priorities.

And, so, he did another quick check of the people strewn across his deck, to make sure they were all soundly unconscious. Once he was satisfied, he went back to the helm, and leaned against it.

He closed his eyes, and let his thoughts drift to Eileen. He licked his lips, finding that they were dry with his nerves. He forced the feeling away. He knew that he'd hurt Eileen, and that she'd suffered while he was gone. He didn't have to use the Third Eye to figure that out. But still, he cared about her. He wanted to help her. The only way he could, would be to—

His body slumped.

All was silent on the deck as everybody watched the brothers. Marche was still leaning on Doned's chest, keeping him pinned with his greater weight. He hadn't moved since removing his younger brother's concealing piece of fabric.

The red-headed youth was doing his best to not meet Marche's eyes. Doned was still panting a bit, but it was clear his lack of breath was the least cause of his discomfort.

"What are you doing here?" Marche finally demanded. "I could've killed you!"

"I know," Doned replied, guilt clear in his voice.

"I mean, you… you were trying to kill me!"

"No!" Doned said quickly. Marche balked, but the younger human went on. "It's true, I was hired by the Queen to assassinate you, but I only took the job so that nobody else would take it and actually try to kill you!"

"Then what was that?" Marche snapped, gesturing upwards with his head. "You seemed to be trying pretty hard then!"

"I wasn't aiming for any vital spots. I just wanted to take you out of commission."

"And that makes it all better? I mean, it was bad enough when you were selling us out on all of our marks, but this?"

"Well you didn't exactly give me much of a choice, did you?" Doned put as much force as he could into the words, despite being held up by the scruff of his shirt. "I know I can't take you on at even footing. Surprise was the only advantage I had."

"You're ignoring the point. You could've gotten me, or you, or one of my clanmates killed." He pushed the smaller human down, pressing his back hard against the deck. Doned gasped, the air knocked from his lungs, and lay there panting as Marche stood up, shaking his head in disgust. The paladin turned towards the rest of his clan and the others on the ship's deck, who were all staring at him, and began walking away from his brother. "Lock him up below deck somewhere. We have an operation to finish."

"You think me attacking you was my only plan to stop you?"

Marche froze in his steps, his entire body going even tenser. He turned sharply on his heel, and glared over at Doned. "What do you mean?"

"Sending me to attack you was only the first part of the plan." Doned licked his lips, then went on. "I let them place a tracking spell on me. So long as I'm alive and my body is on this ship, the Palace's mages will know where it is."

This time, Marche didn't reply. From where she was standing, Eileen couldn't see his face. His body language, though, told her more than enough. Abruptly, his shoulders sagged, and his head went down slightly. When he did speak, his voice was much softer than before. "Why?"

"Because," Doned replied, pushing himself slowly up to his feet, "I know you want to destroy this world, but I still need it. I'm willing to die to keep walking, Marche. What are you willing to do to destroy this world?"

Silence reigned for a few good seconds after Doned's ultimatum. Everybody was watching, waiting for Marche's directions. At length, the paladin spoke.

"How long would it take to steer a ship from this height down to the ground?"

"At least an hour," Rolf answered.

"And how long will that life boat of yours last?"

"About forty minutes, at normal speeds. That's why we normally don't fly above the clouds; it's too risky."

Marche nodded stiffly, still not looking back to his clan members. In front of him, Doned was watching his older brother, the occasional tremor running through his body.

When nobody had spoken for some time, Guinness cleared his throat. Marche didn't acknowledge the sound, but the nu mou spoke anyways. "Marche, if you're going to make a decision, it would be best to make it soon. It won't take long for their mages to trace his signal here. What are we doing?"

Marche took in a long, shaking breath, then replied. "I don't know."

At that, Caitlin gave an almost imperceptible start, and looked up. "You don't know? You can't mean that, Marche! We only have one choice in this matter. I'm sorry, but—"

"But you want me to order my own brother's death?" Marche rounded on the other human, a deep furrow in his brow. The intensity of his glare would have made the hardiest of bangaa take a step back, but Caitlin held her position coolly. "I'm sorry if I'm having trouble with coming to that decision."

"I didn't say it was an easy decision, or a fair one," Caitlin replied, her own eyes narrowing now. "Frankly, I've lost too much to this war at this point. If he remains alive, then our chances of making it to Ambervale are significantly reduced. I'm sorry, but I'm too close at this point to risk it. Everybody I love is either dead or gathered here on this ship." Her tongue flicked out subconsciously at where the scar that crossed her face parted her lips. "I can't lose all of it when we're this close, even if it means I have to lose your friendship."

The two warriors stared at each other, both of them keeping their hands close to their weapons. Eileen tensed up, waiting in case either one of them moved. Marche and Caitlin were easily the strongest fighters in Nutsy; a fight between the two of them would be a dangerous thing to behold indeed.

"What if we were to just start flying right now, kupo?" Montblanc piped up, drawing the pair of humes' attention. The moogle glanced over to Rolf. "If we started towards Ambervale now, and just put on all our speed? We could probably outrun anybody on our tail, and at worst, the mages could blast anybody away."

"In any other circumstance, I would say yes," Rolf said, already shaking his head, "but _The Invincible_ is just too fast for us. If they came after us, there's no way we could outrun or overpower them."

Marche glanced around at his clan, then, taking in all those gathered with a sweep of his eyes. Caitlin, Lindsay, Guinness, Grans, Montblanc, and Vili. He took a deep breath, then muttered, "Alright. I respect all of you. You've all done more for me than I could ever ask of anybody. I want to know, right now, what you think I should do. I'll consider it. But right now, this is my brother we're talking about. I'm making the final decision."

Everybody glanced around uncomfortably, clearly unsure what they should do. The first to move were Grans and Montblanc, who both stepped purposefully over to stand by Marche. The paladin didn't look to them as they approached, and they didn't look for any acknowledgement. Grans simply shook her head, muttering something about the abhorrence of sacrificing a child, while Montblanc balled and unballed his fists, looking between Caitlin and his leader.

After a few seconds more of thinking, Vili stepped forward, and walked directly over until she stood beside Caitlin. She set her feet there, but refused to meet Marche's eyes, instead averting her gaze down to the deck.

Naturally, nobody expected Lindsay to cast a vote, so instead all eyes turned to Guinness, who still stood off to the side, looking between the two groups. He worked his mouth a bit, then spoke. "I won't vote in this. I can't force my clan leader to kill, and neither can I forget the sacrifices we've already made to get here. I won't take part in this."

Eileen watched all this, her mind racing. She knew what they had to do. There was no way that they would ever reach Ambervale if the Palace's entire fleet could follow a magical signature right to them. Their best bet would be to either kill Doned, or just toss him off the side of the ship still alive to throw off the signal.

She glanced over to the human, eying him carefully. She had heard very little of Marche's younger brother; just the occasional annoyed muttering from one or another of the members of Clan Nutsy. She knew that he had been responsible for setting up ambushes for the clan with the help of either bounty hunters or the Palace itself multiple times.

She stared down at the human for a few moments longer, and in the back of her mind, she realized that if she cast from here, she could have a flare spell off before any of Clan Nutsy could get to her. The blast would easily throw the human over the side of the ship, and then there would be nothing left for Nutsy to do…

She was already reaching for that well of power within her before she realized what she was doing. She forced the process to a stop quickly, her eyes widening as she considered what she had been about to do. But… she had to do it, didn't she? She was being forced to; it wasn't her choice…

It seemed like that was how all of her decisions had been made over the past few years… what did she have to do? In Sprohm, saying goodbye to Quin and then letting that meteorite fall on a residential section of the town… in Cyril, letting Bartholemue die for her so that she could go on and lead the Rebellion's forces in Cadoan… in all the adventures with Ben and Maxwell and Isaac since, holding back and protecting people whenever they went out and risked themselves. Everything she'd done had been for the greater good… all of it had been a logical, thought out decision, weighing the power she possessed versus the task at hand, and placing herself exactly where she was most useful.

But she hated it… every moment she hated it, having to hang back, and being forced to make those decisions because she wasn't powerful enough to change her own situation. There were so many forces at work… and it constantly felt like it wasn't her in control of her life, but all the people around her.

She bunched both of her hands slowly into fists, and abruptly, she was aware of the band of gold around her left ring finger. She glanced down at it sharply, and licked her eyes. She reached for it, and turned it carefully in her fingers, looking at the featureless band. Power…

"This arguing is pointless and unnecessary." As all of the eyes on the ship turned to her, Eileen realized that she had spoken. She was surprised for an instant, but then she looked up, and continued. "We know what we have to do, so why hesitate?"

Marche rounded on her, and his hand actually closed around the hilt of his knightsword. "Eileen, if you try to—"

"Bind his hands," the Alchemist said, ignoring Marche and pointing him past him to Doned. "Then lock him up below decks. Everybody else, prepare for battle."

Everybody on the deck stared at her for a few instants, stunned. At length, Caitlin ventured, "Eileen, you know we can't win that fight. For the greater good—"

"Too many evils have been excused over the past few years for the greater good. I'm tired of it. We'll outrun them until they catch us, then we'll fight them until they corner us, and then…" She squeezed on her ring once, tugging on it a bit to loosen its grip on her finger, "…and then, if all else fails, I'll get all of you to Ambervale, and you'll finish this job. Is that understood?"

There were a few awkward glances cast about the deck. Then, abruptly, Rolf stepped forward. When he spoke, his voice was hard, and it allowed for no questions. "You heard her. Get your brother locked away and bound so that he can't cause any more trouble," he nodded to Marche, then let his gaze sweep over the rest of the crew. "The rest of you, move, on the double. We're wasting time we could be using to put more distance between our enemies and us. When they catch up to us, everybody goes to combat positions except for Tifone and Eugene. Otherwise, keep each other safe, and don't let them below deck. Now move."

As if his words were magic, the group started moving. There were a few uncomfortable looks shot between members of Clan Nutsy, but no comments were made. Soon enough, they were flying along at a good speed again, and Marche had led Doned down the steps into the ship's hull.

As everybody else was moving, though, Rolf turned and approached Eileen. She turned away, hoping to avoid a conversation, but knowing that would be impossible. The Alchemist needed time told herself that she just needed to think things through, but truly, she knew that the time for that was past. She'd just made her decision.

"Sudden change of heart?" the captain asked from behind her.

"You could say that," she replied, still not facing him. "More like reworking an older plan to fit a new situation."

"As you will," Rolf replied, shrugging. "If you don't mind me asking, though, how dangerous will this plan be?"

Eileen licked her lips once. She searched for a few seconds for an answer to his question, until she found an appropriate way to phrase her response. "Ever since I came to Ivalice, I've been thinking like Maxwell in many ways. Looking at things from a cold point of view."

"And now?"

"Now?" she replied, and a small grin broke across her face. "Right now I guess you could say that I'm thinking like Isaac."

Rolf was silent for a few seconds, processing her words. Then, finally, he asked, "And what would have done in this situation?"

"He would have done what he did best," Eileen replied, testing her ring again. "He would have given everything to protect as many people as possible."


	126. Collision

When Isaac came to this time, he didn't wait to check everybody on the deck. Instead, as soon as he could get his feet under him, he grabbed hold of the helm, and pulled it towards himself, turning it as they began gaining height.

He cast his eyes about for a quick moment, and he just managed to pick out a ship pulling away from the fighting. He could see that the ship's hull was heavily scarred, and there were a few boards that were still smoking from extinguished flames. The moogle turned his small craft towards them, not even checking to see what sort of flag they bore. At that moment, he didn't care.

He managed to get up to them, and with very little arguing, the captain of the ship allowed him to transport the unconscious boarding party to his ship. The ship's crew was battered and exhausted, and a single look at the moogle's pair of fine blades laid any complaints they may have had to rest. As soon as he had cleared the unconscious Palace soldiers from the deck of the craft, Isaac returned to it, and without a word, he gunned it up, and lifted away.

The moogle tipped the ship back dangerously far, and soon he was climbing through the sky faster than he thought he'd ever gone before. He could feel the pressure building in his ears at the rapid gain in altitude, but he ignored, simply biting his lip as he closed with those dark, intimidating clouds. He hadn't been able to tell much about the _Fallen Star II's_ location, but he had clearly seen that they were above the clouds. They must have been in a tight situation for Rolf to have taken such a dangerous course of action. Even with powerful mages onboard, going directly through a storm cloud was generally considered a last resort manoeuvre. There was too much lightning, and it was far too easy to roll the ship upside down without any visuals on anything.

Isaac didn't hesitate, though, even as lightning flashed through those clouds no more than a few dozen metres ahead of him. Abruptly, he was wrapped up in a field of cool mist and darkness. He kept his speed at the same dangerous levels, though, and did his best to keep his paws steady on the helm.

Eileen had said she was planning on doing something that only he would do. That could only mean two things. Neither of them were things Isaac wished to consider.

Isaac bit his lip, holding his breath as the cool mist rolled by him. He closed his eyes, knowing that they wouldn't help him here, and steered simply by feel. At one point, light flashed beyond his eyelids, sending a red glow through to his irises. However, the moogle felt no heat anywhere near him, so he assumed that he was safe.

It seemed as though the cloud went on forever, and despite his mind telling him that it was just because the storm clouds were so tall, Isaac began wondering if he would ever pull through the opposite side. The moogle wasn't even sure whether he could breathe in the cloud without getting a lungful of water.

Just as he thought he might have to test out that theory, though, Isaac felt the oppressive wetness fall away from him. He sucked in a deep gasp, and opened his eyes again. He had to shield them immediately as he saw the sun, totally unobstructed above him.

He turned his gaze back down, and shook his head, sending a spray of water off of his fur. He tried opening his eyes again, and managed to keep them open now that they weren't fixed directly on the sun. He checked his balance, and quickly tipped the helm to the right the slightest bit, righting himself in the air.

Then, he turned, casting his gaze all the way around the fluffy cloudscape around him. It didn't take him long to spot his quarry, and when he did, his breath caught in his throat.

The _Fallen Star II_ was perhaps two kilometres away. Even from this distance, Isaac noticed the differences to its hull. Huge sections had been stripped away, and instead replaced with sleeker curves and shapes. The sails, too, had been exchanged; whereas before they had been using plain trade ship sails, they now had much shorter but much wider pieces of fabric. The overall effect was that the ship was more circular and compact in shape, tapering together towards the front. It took Isaac a few seconds to realize how they had come by the new parts, and when he did, he almost laughed despite himself. Jagd Helje was full of the wrecks of old airships; they must have simply cannibalized those ships in order to improve the _Fallen Star II_.

Isaac turned the helm of his own small craft, and began pushing it forward. From this distance, the moogle could see that the other ship was moving at full speed, with its masts at full and its engines blazing to keep those propellers spinning. Even in a small, fast craft like the one he was using, it would be difficult to catch up to them.

As his ship began moving forward, though, Isaac's eyes picked up an odd movement amongst the clouds. About halfway between himself and the _Fallen Star II_, the clouds surged upwards for a few moments, almost looking like water in slow motion, before, suddenly, a mast broke free from the clouds. It rose quickly, excess water dripping from the sails and rigging, before the deck of a mid-sized schooner broke free from the clouds. The deck was covered by an equally wet crew and boarding party. As soon as it rose up, it gunned its engines and took off in hot pursuit of the _Fallen Star II_.

Isaac felt nervous for a moment, but he quickly saw that this ship was no match for the _Fallen Star II_'s speed. The moogle let himself take a deep breath, and forced himself to calm down as he gripped the helm tighter. He would just have to make sure to avoid that ship; he could still catch up to Clan Nutsy.

The moogle's relief was shortlived. Even as he began turning his boarding craft to make a loop around the new ship, the clouds burst upwards in another spot, not a hundred metres ahead of the _Fallen Star II_. Clan Nutsy's ship veered hard as soon as the clouds began their movement, and the entire craft tilted dangerously to the side as it pulled a hard turn away from this newest ship. The other ship pulled up fully from the clouds, and started up its own engines, following hard after the _Fallen Star II_.

Isaac began glancing around, trying to plot a clear path to his target. As he looked though, he felt a pit opening up in his stomach. All around him, the clouds were bursting upwards, as more and more Palace airships rose through the thunderclouds.

Still, though… they might get in Isaac's way, but he was certain that those ships would never be able to catch the modified _Fallen Star II_. He comforted himself with that fact, and began tilting his helm upwards, thinking to maybe fly over all of the airships.

As he began rising, though, his eyes picked out something not too far away. Much like when all the other ships had risen, the clouds were lifting and spilling out to either side. However, the area being displaced was much greater than before; indeed, it seemed to be the size of at least four of the other airships that had already risen up. As its several masts broke the surface, Isaac could easily make out the red and white flag of the Palace hanging from the mainmast. He sucked in his breath, already knowing what it was, but trying to deny it to himself. However, as it kept rising, revealing more and more of the colossal airship, the moogle found himself murmuring beneath his breath.

"The _Invincible_."

No sooner had he said it than the deck pulled up from beneath the clouds. The Palace's flagship was laden down with dozens of fighters, and even from several hundred metres away, Isaac could pick out many mages among their ranks. The moogle's eyes were wide, and he felt his mouth go dry as he also saw that it was already moving; it hadn't simply killed its forward momentum while flying through the stormcloud, as most of the other ships had; it had continued barrelling forward so that it could exit the cloud still travelling at full speed.

Whoever was captaining that ship was confident, if not reckless. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Isaac recalled hearing a few muttered rumours and mentions about the mysterious general of the Palace's airship fleet. He felt instinctively that that must be who was currently in command of the _Invincible_, and he also knew that this would be the battle that they would finally meet.

Isaac opened up the magical reserves powering his small craft to full, and his ship rocketed forward. Several hundred metres ahead of him, the _Invincible_ was roaring forward, its speed terrifying. Other, smaller Palace ships floundered to pull out of the behemoth's path, as it was clear that the ship wasn't going to slow down for anybody.

It only took a couple seconds of pursuit for Isaac to realize, with a sinking feeling, that despite the _Invincible_'s bulk, it was travelling much faster than him. Another few seconds of watching told Isaac that it was also moving faster than the _Fallen Star II_.

The moogle didn't hesitate, then. He turned his small craft towards the two retreating ships, and opened his throttle to full. Pale blue light flared all across the base of his craft, and with a jump, he was moving. He lowered his head at the force of the wind racing over his fur, tugging at his clothes, making his long ears bend back against the top of his fedora. This was the sort of the thing he had sometimes done to release stress when he was captaining the _Red Flash_; take out one of the boarding vessels and then go as fast as he could. This time, though, he didn't even feel the exhilaration; he barely even noticed as his stomach jumped with the sudden gain in speed. Instead, he was keeping his eyes narrowed, fighting the wind as he roared closer to his targets.

He was forced to turn and veer around other vessels that got in his way, and when he did, he did it with as little movement as possible. At one point, he swerved over the deck of a large ship so closely that a few crewmembers were forced to throw themselves to the deck to avoid getting clipped. He paid them little heed, too focused on his destination.

Up ahead of him, he could see the distance between the two ships shrinking. The two of them were still far ahead of the other ships; both the _Invincible_ and the _Fallen Star II_ could have easily outpaced any of them on a normal day. However, Isaac knew that the moment the _Invincible _caught up, both ships' speed would drop dramatically, if they didn't stop altogether. It was exceedingly dangerous to the crews of both ships to conduct a battle while still moving. As such, the _Invincible_ would be able to hold the _Fallen Star II _until the other ships showed up, leaving them with no chance of escape.

They had to win the battle fast. Before any of the other ships caught up. Isaac was going through this in his mind, thinking of different strategies of getting away, when abruptly, there was a loud crash, and his own small ship bucked violently to the left. He yelped in surprise, and grabbed harder onto the helm of his small craft, swinging it around until it was back on course and level again. He glanced over his shoulder to the right, and saw that there was another boarding vessel, just behind him, matching him for speed. There were five boarders on the deck, a number of them eying him warily.

Glancing around behind and to either side of him, Isaac cursed beneath his breath as he saw a few dozen other such ships. Most of them were travelling at about the same speed as him, pacing him towards the battle up ahead. Sure, he might show up and tip the tides in the favour of the _Fallen Star II_, but as soon as he did, he would be bringing another sixty or seventy enemies, piloting small manoeuvrable ships to hamper any escape.

The ship just to his right veered again, trying to ram him from behind. Isaac dipped his own craft, and let them pass just over him. As soon as he was in the clear, he pushed his own ship onwards and upwards, rising up. His opponents' manoeuvre had forced them to drop back a bit, and so now he was at the head of the pack bearing down upon the two ships. Knowing he would only get once chance for this, Isaac took a deep breath, then turned the helm as sharply as he could. He held on tightly to the wood, and set his legs as the sharp change in direction nearly tore him away from the ship. He held himself there, though, even as his craft's momentum kept it moving towards the pair of ships up ahead.

Then, as his ship was still in motion, he turned himself until he was squarely facing all of the other crafts behind him. A number of them had noticed his odd manoeuvre, and were watching him with a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. That was good; it would be easier if most of them were already watching him. As he set his hip against the helm to brace himself, Isaac's paws went down to the sheaths at his hips, and in a fluid motion, he pulled out both of the Avuir Blades and raised them out to arm's length, straight out from his shoulders as if they were wings. Then, he closed his eyes for an instant.

Immediately, the sound of the wind roaring all around him grew softer, along with the creaking of wood and the thrumming of the airships' great propellers. Even the occasional claps of thunder that rang out from the clouds below dulled, as everything began leaning in towards Isaac. The moogle breathed deep, as wisps of cloud and currents of air rolled in around him, covering his form. For now, he just let the energy build around him, as opposed to forcing it to centre on one of his weapons. That would require more concentration, anyways.

He spoke. The sound of his voice echoed out across the silence that was otherwise enveloping the entire area, making it easy for all to hear him.

"You will stop your ships here, kupo. If you move forward, you shall face the full fury of a realized Ultimate bearing the ancient weapons of the Hero Gaol."

From somewhere, Isaac barely caught a voice calling out, the sound muffled under the odd effects of the Ultima charge. "But the Ultimate of the moogles is dead!"

"Is he, kupo?" Isaac replied, emphasizing the 'kupo.' "If this is so, he seems to be in quite good health for his death. If you continue to doubt, though, I invite you to move forward, and you can test his death with your life."

That declaration was met with perfect silence. He nodded, then, looking from one ship to the other, making sure that he got a good look at each of their faces. There was a variety of emotions displayed; confusion, surprise, and suspicion were common. However, the one thing he was glad to see in all of them was the fear, the terror at the idea of facing an Ultimate.

He smirked inwardly, and took another breath. "Whoever moves forward first forfeits their life. If you wish to live, you will return to your ships. Now, kupo."

There were a few tense moments of silence. All of those at the helms of the ships were glancing to each other, each one hoping another would move first. Whoever that first person was, they would decide exactly what happened there; a retreat, or a bloody and brutal fight.

Then, one ship, just to the right and above Isaac's own small craft, jerked, and began pulling back from the moogle. Everybody's eyes focused on it as it backed up, and then swung around, returning to its home ship. As it was leaving, another ship joined it, and then another. Soon, Isaac's small craft was alone, the rest of the smaller ships having returned to join up with the larger fleet.

Isaac breathed a sigh of relief, and the energy building around him faded. He lowered both weapons, and then sheathed them, returning his paws to the helm so he could turn himself back towards the _Invincible_ and the _Fallen Star II_. He knew it wasn't a lot of time he had just bought; probably only five or six extra minutes. Still, it could make all the difference.

The moogle got his ship moving again, and kept his eyes glued to the ships ahead of him. The _Invincible_ was just reaching the _Fallen Star II_; the fighting was about to start. Isaac narrowed his eyes and kept his course, his grip tight on the helm.

Abruptly, there was a great flash from the two ships, and Isaac saw forked lightning and balls of fire erupting from both sides. The spells streaked everywhere, some of them reflecting off of protective spells, while others found their marks and left great black marks along both of the hulls. He couldn't see it, but Isaac knew that the _Invincible_'s crew was probably readying boarding ladders, the different raiding parties waiting to pour onto the enemy's deck.

He bit his lip, beginning to get anxious. The air rushed by him, and he actually had to raise one paw to grab onto the rim of his hat as it tried to lift off his head. The two ships were slowly rotating around each other up ahead of him, the _Fallen Star II_ trying to use the movement to make it more difficult for the ladders to be held in place. From this distance, Isaac could actually make out the shapes rushing across the ladders, many of them falling away from either the movement or those defending the _Fallen Star II_.

That said, despite how many casualties the _Invincible_ was taking, it was clear that they held the upper hand. The Palace's crown ship was at least four times the size of the _Fallen Star II_, and it was brimming with fighters. The _Fallen Star II_, with its skeleton crew and single clan defending it, would be hard pressed to counter that many enemies.

Isaac kept his speed up as the two ships grew closer and closer. By this point, the _Fallen Star II_ was closer to him than the _Invincible_, which was just as well. He narrowed his eyes as he counted down in his head how much longer until he reached them. _Thirty… twenty-nine… twenty-eight…_

Engrossed as they were in their own fighting, nobody had noticed the single ship flying recklessly fast towards them. All of the melee fighters stood on the mid-decks of the two ships, either pouring out onto the boarding ladders or blocking as many people as possible from getting onto the ladders.

_Twenty-one… twenty… nineteen…_

The mages of both ships were arranged between the front and the rear decks, using the raised areas to their advantage to either blast at the other ship or lend aide to the fighters. While the rails of the _Invincible_ were brimming with casters, Isaac could only pick out one nu mou on either end of the _Fallen Star II_, sending out blast after blast of destructive magic. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that one of them had to be Eileen, but he forced that thought away; it would be disastrous to lose focus now.

_Thirteen… twelve… eleven…_

Isaac could also just make out the single figures in each of the ship's crow nests. Instinctively, the moogle knew that Eugene was up there, tending to all of the defensive spells that were holding the _Fallen Star II_ together under the magical onslaught. A human stood in the crow's nest upon the mainmast of the _Invincible_, no doubt doing the same job. Though he was no mage, Isaac knew that there were probably dozens of protective spells layered onto both of these mages. In many ways, those two mages were more important than anybody else in the battle. If one of them fell, then their ship fell with them.

_Eight… seven… six…_

Finally, Isaac could see the helms of both ships, and the figures standing at each of them. He instantly recognized Rolf at the helm of the _Fallen Star II_; the tall human's blade sat in its sheath, easily within his reach. He wore his plain shirt of chainmail for protection, and nothing else. His pose was relaxed as he carefully guided his ship in that circling dance around the _Invincible_, looking for any chance to break away or press in closer to the other ship and dislodge the ladders.

_Three… two… one… z-_

Isaac sucked in his breath, and, just as he passed over the deck of the _Fallen Star II_, he kicked off with his feet, and flapped hard, jumping to be free of his craft. The boarding vessel continued flying forward, dipping away slightly. When he had jumped off, it had only been about four or five metres above the deck itself. All eyes on both decks turned to stare as the suddenly unmanned craft passed just high of the railing surrounding the _Fallen Star II_'s deck, and then dipped a few feet lower. Suddenly, there was yelling, and people scrambled to get away from the railing of the _Invincible_.

Isaac rolled as he hit the deck of the _Fallen Star II_, his momentum sending him careening forward. It took him all of his skill to keep his shoulder or elbow from slamming into the wood, but he managed. As he finally came up to his feet, staggering slightly to kill the rest of his momentum, there came a thunderous crash, and the groaning scream of wood snapping and splintering. He looked up, just in time to smirk as he watched the small boat embed itself into the hull of the _Invincible_, tearing a massive hole into the side of the battleship.

The entire structure gave a great heave, and veered dangerously to the side, even as all of the soldiers on the boarding ladders scrambled to jump back onto their ship.

Finally, the roaring subsided, and the two ships hung there, perfectly silent but for the occasional creaking of stressed wood. All of the eyes on the _Fallen Star II_ were fixed on Isaac, as the moogle remained in his half-staggered stance, trying to recover his breath. When he looked up and saw them all watching him, his own mind went blank for a few seconds. He'd been thinking about this moment since he'd left the tonberries' cave early last winter. Once or twice, he'd considered what he might say. Briefly, he tried remembering the words. He decided to drop it, though, in favour of turning to where Rolf stood at the helm.

"That'll slow them down a bit, kupo." The moogle's voice was all business, even as he reached up and tugged his fedora down tighter onto his head. "Let's see if we can put some sky between us before they get themselves organized."

Rolf blinked at that. Then, a weak smirk showed on his face. He raised his voice, and yelled, "Well, you heard him, didn't you? Let's get this ship moving! We can all welcome Isaac back from the dead after we're out of mortal danger. Go!"


	127. The Invincible

At Rolf's words, the group on the deck scrambled, moving to their by now well practiced positions. Within a few moments, Rolf was turning the helm sharply to port, and they were pulling away from the still awkwardly rocking _Invincible_. As soon as they were clear, Rolf opened the engines to full, and the _Fallen Star II_ jumped forward.

Although they had escaped the larger ship momentarily, the assembled group didn't relax. Guinness ran down the steps from the poop deck, his eyes flicking across all of his clan members. He stepped over to Vili, who was favouring her right arm, and without comment, he began chanting and letting small spurts of white light seep from his hands into the arm.

Isaac was very surprised to see Lindsay there, the normally serene and absent viera leaning back against the wall of the poop deck. Sweat was plastering errant strands of silvery hair to her forehead, and she had her eyes shut as she sucked in deep gasps of air. As Isaac watched, Montblanc rushed up to the summoner, and passed her a jar filled with ether. She didn't even look at him, instead just mechanically opening the potion up and drinking it.

"Tifone, get whoever isn't injured and start doing any repairs you can," Rolf ordered, glancing over to the viera. She was already moving, though, Caitlin, Marche and Grans following close behind her into the ship's hold, where all of the extra repair materials were held.

Isaac watched them go, biting his lip a bit. After a moment, though, he turned away, and began walking towards the front of the ship.

"Not helping with the repairs?" Rolf asked the moogle, looking at him from the corner of his eye as he supervised the goings on all across the ship.

"I have some more pressing business, kupo."

"My my," the human muttered, the surprise clear in his voice. "You've grown up."

"Took me long enough, kupo," Isaac replied, heading towards the stairs leading up to the slightly raised front deck.

"Do try not to disappear so quickly this time," Rolf called after him. "It wasn't a good feeling, thinking I'd lost two of my moogles in so short a span of time."

Isaac felt a small pang of guilt in his stomach at hearing that, but he shook it off, instead calling over his shoulder, "No promises, kupo."

He walked quickly up the steps to the front deck, anxiety gnawing at his insides. As he reached the top step, he glanced up, and stopped abruptly. Eileen stood just in front of him, frozen halfway through taking a step towards the same steps he had just climbed. As he saw her, Isaac felt all his words dry up at once, his mouth hanging open stupidly.

She looked different. There was nothing he could specifically pick out; she still had that same poised dignity to her, the calm confidence, that sharp wit hiding behind those hard green eyes. That said, there was something… almost a lacking, in some respects. Her robes, though they were still just as clean as well pressed as they had ever been, looked worn and faded. Her thin fur had a slightly greyer tone to it and her face was shadowed. The word that he finally settled on was tired; Eileen looked more tired than he'd ever seen her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Isaac licked his lips, and then whispered, his voice tight, "Hey."

Her expression didn't change. Instead of replying, she reached out with a trembling hand and touched it carefully against the shirt covering his chest. He didn't move as she slowly parted the V running down from the collar and looked at the white spot of fur where the tonberry's knife had stabbed him. She stared at that mark for a few long seconds, her face unreadable, before she moved her hand again to run her fingers through his fur, pressing at the skin underneath.

Eileen's entire body trembled once, her eyes widening. Then, abruptly, her legs gave out beneath her, and she slipped down to her knees. As they slapped against the deck, she reached out with her other hand, grabbing Isaac's shoulder, and tugged him sharply forward. Isaac stumbled forward, and suddenly her arms were around him, pulling him in against her shaking body. He felt warmth on his shoulder as she laid her chin on it, and then he had his arms around her, gasping for a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

"I'm sorry, kupo," he murmured. "I'm so sorry."

"You were dead," she said, her voice sounding thin as she kept shivering. "I saw them- they were dragging your body away, and… and…"

She fell silent again, just holding him all the harder as he kept mumbling apologies. The two of them remained like that as the wind jumped and howled mutely around them. Finally, after what felt like hours, but what could have been minutes, Eileen stopped shaking, and she spoke again, still holding onto the moogle.

"I did things. Bad things. I… and I would have done worse."

"You didn't though, kupo."

"But I _would_ have!"

"But you _didn't_. That's what matters."

"I would have killed so many people… so many more… I didn't care, I just… I had to…"

"You have a choice, kupo. You don't have to do anything. I'm so sorry."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, and pulled it back so she could look at his face. Her eyes were red and puffy, but she had managed to keep her composure enough that her cheeks were still dry. She murmured, "You're alive."

"I'm alive, kupo."

She looked him up and down, and her eyes lingered on his fedora for a moment. She grinned, sucking in a few gulps of air, and said, "You haven't worn that hat in years."

He smiled back, knowing he was on the edge of losing his own composure. "Thought I might try it back on. See if it still fits." He reached up with his right paw, and touched it against the brim.

At that, her eyes widened, and Isaac was confused for a few seconds before she muttered, "Your paw."

Isaac remembered, then, and his smile widened as he held it out to her. She carefully took it, and felt along the fur, touching her fingertips to the point where his horrific scar used to be. Over the winter, Isaac had gotten used to having the limb working again, but he remembered how it had been at first, teaching himself to react with it again.

"How well does it work?" she asked.

"Well, I _was_ right handed before," Isaac replied, and Eileen glanced up sharply, staring at him. He was taken aback by her sudden reaction. "Kupopo?"

"I'd forgotten," she replied, staring down at his paws again. "You were right handed. For those three years, you were fighting with your left hand."

"The left arm's still stronger, kupo," Isaac said quickly, trying to stop her from saying anything more. He'd thought about it enough himself. "My right is steadier when I'm gunning, but it still has some catching up to do. At this point, though, I'm pretty much ambidextrous, kupo."

She nodded at that, eying him carefully. Her gaze wandered first down to his paw, and then up to the fedora on his head. "Does this mean… are you trying to go back to how it was before?"

"No," he replied firmly, giving a small shake of his head. "Even if we go back to St Ivalice, nothing can ever go back to how it was before, kupo. That said," he inclined his head, "I'm not going to just cast off who I was before what happened with Jacqueline. That person is still part of me."

Eileen looked satisfied with that answer. "Fine. Then you're here to help us?"

"I'm here to help Maxwell, kupo."

There was a pause. "Can you beat him?"

"I don't know, kupo."

"But you're still going to face him?"

"That's the plan."

Her eyes grew suddenly hard as she watched him. "Normally this is the point where you tell me that you'll make it back."

"I can't say that for sure, though," Isaac replied evenly.

Eileen nodded slowly, her eyes difficult to read. Then, she lowered her head, and murmured, "You know that you're the strongest out of all of us, don't you?"

Isaac stared at her, caught off guard. "Kupopo?"

"Nothing." She shook her head, then looked back up at him. "We're going to save Maxwell, and then go back to St Ivalice so that we can save Jacqueline and Ben. Right?"

"Right," Isaac replied, trying to sound sure. He felt like there was more he should be saying to her; to explain everything that had happened, to tell her how mixed his own feelings were about her. What was most odd, though, was that he could tell that she was holding back. Somehow he knew that there was something that she wasn't saying. He opened his mouth again to try and tell her, but found he couldn't get the words out. At last, he simply shook his head, and said, "Right, kupo. That's what we'll do."

Eileen opened her mouth to speak again, but she froze as Rolf's voice called out.

"Everybody back to combat positions, they're back onto us!"

Isaac and Eileen stared at each other for a few moments. Then, abruptly, they parted, Isaac stepping away from the nu mou as she rose to her feet. She began brushing her robes off to straighten them out, and Isaac checked to make sure his blades were where he could reach them easily.

"What are we up against, kupo?"

"More than we'd expected," Eileen muttered. She picked the Zeus Mace up off the ground, and glanced at the head as she kept speaking. "The mages on there are stronger than most I've battled. Between Guinness and I, we can hold them back, but there's no way we can match their firepower. It would all be fine if Lindsay could get a spell off, but they've got three summoners onboard, so she's using all of her energy holding them off from blowing us away."

"She held off three summoners at once, kupo?" Isaac stared at Eileen, then glanced back and over the banister at where the viera stood, still leaning against the wall. Though her face was still slick from sweat, it appeared as though her breathing had returned to normal. Montblanc stood beside her, speaking to her, but if she heard or noticed him, she didn't show it. Isaac licked his lips. "How long can she keep that up for?"

"No idea," Eileen replied. "I'd rather not test her limits, though. If she goes down…" The nu mou shook her head, and gripped the Zeus Mace tighter. "I might be able to repel one summoning spell with Ultima. After that, though, we'd be sitting ducks."

"How about their captain? Any way that Rolf could outmanoeuvre them?"

"The only reason we got away last time was because of your little distraction, there. They're good, Isaac. Probably the Palace's best. If we pull this off, it's not going to be easy, and it's not going to be cheap."

Isaac nodded, taking a deep breath. "Right. I should probably be with the other fighters, then, kupo. I'll see you after the battle."

Eileen glanced over at him, and raised her eyebrows. "You better."

Isaac nodded again, and then turned away from her, heading down the stairs to the deck. Everybody else was already gathered, their weapons drawn and readied. They all glanced at him as he approached, but nobody asked any questions. Isaac understood why. Their current situation wasn't exactly the best one for welcoming somebody back from the dead. There were a few nods, and Tifone and Grans both smiled at him, but then it went back to waiting.

Isaac himself flexed his paws, and then drew out both of the Avuir Blades, testing their weight in his paws. A shiver ran up his spine at the feeling of his body growing lighter, even as it felt as though his wrists were growing tight with muscle. He gave the two weapons an experimental twirl, and took a steadying breath.

He looked up, and was surprised to find Marche looking at him. Isaac cocked an eyebrow at the human. "What, kupo?"

Marche watched him for a few more seconds, before his lips curled up the slightest bits at the edges. "It's been a while since we lost Lini. It's nice to be fighting alongside the Mogknight again."

Isaac stared openly at Marche, even taking half a step back in surprise. He stammered, caught completely off guard, and finally said, "Kupopo?"

"I've only ever seen one other person carry herself like that before a battle," Marche replied. "I guess that more than the name and the blades gets passed down."

"They should be closing with us soon!" Rolf called over, and Isaac was glad for the distraction. The paladin's praise was making him feel uncomfortable. "Everybody, same positions as before. Caitlin, Grans and Marche are on destroying and blocking boarding ladders, Vili is lending support and picking off anybody that gets through, and Tifone is guarding the entrance to the lower decks. Isaac, you're with Tifone, but add ranged support when you can. Our two prime targets to defend are Lindsay and the engine room; if she gets hurt or the engines get destroyed, we're all as good as dead. Is that understood?"

There were sober nods all around. Isaac retreated to his spot in front of the hatch leading down to the lower decks. Tifone had already finished closing the heavy wooden doors over it, and Isaac helped her grab a few planks of wood the others had left out from the repairs and hammer them down over it, sealing the doorway shut.

Tifone tossed the hammer across the deck, making sure it would be far away from the door, and then the two of them turned back to the others. They found that the group had been watching them; using the distraction to avoid feeling anxious.

"They should be pulling up on us soon," Rolf said. He stood by the helm, now, and was the only one amongst them who had no weapons drawn. Out of all of them, he looked the most calm; as though it were just another day in the sky, taking another normal trade route. "Try and keep it fast. A drawn out battle just makes everything more dangerous for all of us. If all you can pull off is disabling them, then that's more than enough. Don't—"

The rest of what Rolf said was lost as, suddenly, thunder pealed out around them. Everybody tensed, glancing around for the source of the noise. Isaac counted a single, long breath, before lightning flashed downwards, smashing into the deck. Fire burst out across the wooden surface, and bits of planking went flying. Any orders that Rolf or Marche might have bellowed were lost as a second lightning bolt slammed in just after the first, immediately blowing the mizzenmast away with a horrific screech of snapping wood. One second it was there, and then next, there were flames leaping up from its snapped base, and the billowing wind had blown it away.

And as the lightning continued raining down around them, tearing chunks off of their ship, Isaac couldn't help but cock an eyebrow, and glance around. The wind, despite its force on the sails and the ropes around him, only just tugged at his fur. The heat of the flames all over the deck was no more than a slight warmth on his skin. He gripped the hilt of the Avuir Blue tighter, placing more of his skin in contact with the weapon, and the illusion dimmed further, giving him a partially unobstructed view of the scene around him.

Everybody was having varying levels of reactions to the spell. With the exception of Caitlin, each person was at least rocking slightly, trying to fight their instincts to right their balances on the apparently unstable deck. Caitlin, oddly, had her eyes closed, and was standing rooted in place, not the least bit affected by the illusion.

As Isaac's eyes wandered over his companions, he just managed to catch sight of something through the oddly dull flashes of lightning around him. A large mass of some sort, almost impossible to make out, was pulling up alongside their own ship.

Adrenaline coursed through the moogle's veins, and he raised his gunblade, pointing and firing upon the mass. He started taking a few shuddering steps towards the ship, finding it difficult to place his feet through his double vision. Just as he was finishing his third step, though, there was a wash of white light all across the deck. Isaac saw it coming, and shielded his eyes as it washed over him. As it passed, he could feel the shaking and the thundering and the heat disappearing, leaving him in an orb of perfect clarity. He glanced up, and stared over at where Guinness stood on the rear deck, holding his hands up, both of them still glowing white.

"Fighters to starboard, now!" Rolf bellowed suddenly. His voice reminded Isaac of what he'd seen, and he glanced again, swallowing. The _Invincible_ was already alongside them, its deck perfectly level with their own. To Isaac's surprise, he saw that they were already lowering ladders down to bridge the distance between the two ships. With a sick feeling in his stomach, he saw the first one fall into place, the two pairs of legs on either end of it hooking behind the banisters of the two ships.

A lithe human was already up on this ladder, and rushing across the distance with skill and speed that astonished the moogle. He didn't waver at all, using the katana in his hand to keep his balance. Even as roars and hisses erupted from the _Invincible_, and blasts of lightning and fire began leaping out towards the _Fallen Star II_, the human kept his balance steady, stepping across the rungs with little trouble.

Just as he reached the midpoint of the ladder, though, Caitlin jumped up onto the opposite end, her two weapons drawn. She moved forward with equal grace and ease, the red ribbon on her sword's hilt fluttering in the wind. As they met, balancing on the ladder above open space, the other human brought his katana forward in a direct thrust. Not stopping her momentum, Caitlin placed her foot on one of the ladder's rungs, and spun, her sword and her blade held out straight from her arms to grant her greater balance.

Her blade smashed against his katana, and pushed it out of the way effortlessly. He stumbled, flailing his arms wildly to keep his balance, even as she continued her spin unhampered. Her sword swung in, and tore into his exposed hip. The force of the blow, coupled with the sudden giving out of that leg, sent the human stumbling off the side of the ladder, plummeting down and screaming for a few seconds before he disappeared beneath the clouds. Before he had even fallen away, though, a viera with a rapier was stepping out onto the ladder, and Caitlin was taking another step forward, her feet a blur on the ladder's narrow rungs.

All along the deck, more ladders were being laid in place. Marche rushed forward as one began lowering down over their banister. His knightsword was still sheathed at his hip, and instead of drawing it, he simply reached up, and grabbed onto the top rung of the ladder. He set his feet, and held tight, muscles bulging out all along his arms as he held the ladder up from touching down and connecting. A bangaa, seeing him in this position, hopped up onto the ladder. Marche grunted at the added weight, but held steady, so the bangaa dropped to her hands and knees, and began crawling along the trembling ladder, increasing the weight on Marche with each foot closer she drew.

By the time she had reached the far end of the ladder, Marche was shaking with the effort of holding the ladder. The bangaa was just overhead of him, leering down at the human with a grin. Carefully, the bangaa started rising to her feet, preparing to jump down onto the deck. As she finally stood, though, Grans stepped up behind Marche, her bullwhip held in her hand. She jerked her wrist forward, and with a sharp crack, the tanned leather opened a long welt across the bangaa's leg. She yelped, and stumbled, before slipping off of the ladder and into the space below.

As the weight left the ladder, Marche let out a pained grunt, and then twisted the ladder to the side, ripping it away from its supports. He shoved it forward, then released it, letting it drop down after the bangaa.

More ladders were coming, though, being carefully laid down across the expanse. Marche and Grans each took up spots at different points along the decks, the human trying his best to dislodge the ladders and keep them unstable. Grans, for her part, simply cracked her whip again and again at the people trying to cross the ladder she'd taken up guarding. Caitlin still held her ladder with remarkable ease, her footing perfect and sure as she batted opponent after opponent over the side. She still had her eyes closed, and watching her, Isaac found himself shuddering. He recalled the time in Bervenia when he'd used his Third Eye to see into her mind while she was fighting, and finally he understood the fury of a Third Eye of Combat.

Isaac did his best to help out from his own position, unloading several clips into the masses of warriors waiting to get onto the ladders. He was pleased to see that his efforts were slowing them, but it was a temporary respite, he knew.

Abruptly, a few feet away from the moogle, Lindsay sucked in a sharp gasp of air, and then balled up, biting back a yelp. Isaac looked to her, concerned that an arrow or an errant spell that he hadn't noticed had hit her. He found himself taking a step back as purple flames erupted all about her. The fire leapt high, licking at the bases of the sails without catching on them. The moogle didn't think he'd ever seen Eileen summoning that much magical energy before.

Suddenly, her head tilted back, and she looked piercingly by him. For a moment, Isaac didn't understand, but then he recalled what Eileen had said about the summoners on the other ship. Lindsay must have been disrupting their spells at that very moment.

The moogle glanced over to the front deck to check on Eileen, and though he couldn't make her out from where he stood, he clearly saw the orange light of her magic shining across the surface. He saw a bolt of lightning jump towards her, but just as it reached the edge of the _Fallen Star II_, there was a white flash, and the electricity recoiled off, flying out aimlessly through the air. As soon as the flash from the lightning had dimmed, a dull roar was heard, and then a ball of molten rock plummeted from the air, slamming hard against the _Invincible_'s hull. Instead of smashing through the wood as it ought to have, though, its flames simply petered out, disappearing into nothingness. The mages' battles were what would decide this, Isaac knew. All it would take was one well-placed spell or one shield to fail, and then one ship would have destruction raining down upon it.

Isaac turned his attention back to the ladders, and groaned. Even during that short time, another two ladders had been secured. As the moogle watched, Caitlin leapt from her own ladder to another one a good three or four feet to the left, her blade leading and biting through the chest of a moogle trying to get across. She spun and slashed at the next several people in line to cross the ladder, and then jumped back to the first boarding ladder. Just before she landed, one viera managed to slip by, and she jumped down onto the deck as Caitlin distracted herself on the others following the viera.

The viera was just raising her rapier, preparing to make for Isaac and Tifone, when the air behind her rippled. Abruptly, Vili was behind the fencer, a knife made purely of shadows grasped in her hand. The assassin stabbed forward with it, and the fencer's entire body tensed, her eyes widening. Then she slipped to the deck without a sound, her body limp. Vili didn't pause to survey her work; instead, she disappeared an instant later, leaving nothing but the body to show that she had been there.

As Marche cast another ladder off between the two ships, he turned, just in time to see another one slip firmly into place just beside him. He sighed in annoyance, then yelled over his shoulder, "We're going to have incoming!" With that, he drew the sword from his hip, its polished steel flashing in the sunlight, and shrugged his shield down from his back. There were six ladders now attached down to the banisters. The flow of fighters on the two Caitlin was defending were sufficiently small, due to nobody really wanting to take on the gifted soldier. Grans had managed to keep her ladder well defended when there had been just one, but now that there were two, the boarders were beginning to draw closer.

Isaac watched in surprise as, suddenly, Vili appeared between Marche and Grans, and arrows began streaming out over the ladders. She kept her volley constant, distributing the arrows evenly among the four ladders. The viera didn't even have to aim; if an arrow so much as came close to somebody, it would generally cause them to flinch or instinctively dive out of the way, and send them plummeting over the edge.

Still, this only slowed the flow a small bit. In less than a minute, the first boarders began reaching the ends of the ladders. The first was a human carrying two daggers. He pushed off from the end of the ladder with a leap, throwing himself at Vili. The instant his feet left the wood of the ladder, though, Marche stepped in, and dealt him a punishing slap across his side with his shield. The paladin moved with the stunned boarder, pressing him back against the railing with his shield. He slashed out once with his knightsword, and was already turning away as red splashed out and the human's body slipped to the ground.

Already, though, there were two more fighters getting down from Marche's ladders: one bangaa and one viera. As he ran in and crossed swords with them, another viera that had managed to slip by Caitlin hopped down, and ran directly for Vili, a katana clamped in her hand.

Vili fired off the arrow on her bowstring, then turned to face her attacker. As the katana slashed in at her, the younger viera ducked hard, letting it pass over her head, and then stepped back out of the way of the backswing. The older viera stepped in, pressing the attack with a direct thrust at her opponent's chest.

Vili jumped sideways, and then swung out with her bow, slamming the worked wood against the flat of the katana. The move knocked the bladed weapon out far to the side, allowing Vili enough time to bring her bow back and around like a quarterstaff and slam its end into the other assassin's face.

The older assassin fell back several steps, clutching her free hand to her face and keeping her katana out in front of her. Vili rushed in, hoping to catch her opponent still off balance. Much to her surprise, though, the other assassin managed to gather herself enough to slash out with her katana. The younger assassin moved to dodge, but saw too late that her opponent wasn't trying to hit her body. Instead, the weapon slashed forward, and cut cleanly through her bowstring.

There was a loud twang as the string snapped, and Vili immediately dropped the weapon with a curse. As the katana slashed in at her again, she ducked and rolled, passing beneath the swinging blade. The roll sent her through the other viera's shadow, and as the darkness covered her, Vili drew a hand back and let a black spike form in her palm. She drove it down in a sharp motion, stabbing it through the other viera's shadow.

The older viera immediately froze in position, her katana held ready to strike. Vili took this moment to stand up, draw out her own katana, and stab it through the other viera's chest. As she tugged it free, she called out, "My bow's broken! I need cover until I can replace the string!"

"No time!" Marche yelled back. There were now the bodies of four soldiers collapsed on the ground about him, and he was already turning to block a slash from a new opponent on his shield. He forced the weapon out far to the side, then stabbed forward and impaled the attacking moogle on his knightsword. As he tore it free, he glanced over to Vili again. "Go and help Grans cover her ladders!"

He turned back towards his own ladders, and his eyes widened as he saw that they were both full now that Vili wasn't keeping the enemies back. He rushed forward at the pair of boarders first getting off the ladder, and swung out with both arms. His knightsword clove through a viera's side as his shield slammed a moogle in the face, dropping her. Before the two bodies had even hit the deck, though, the next two in line had hopped down.

Marche swiped out at the first of these, a bangaa carrying a broadsword. The boarder ducked beneath the blow, and swung his heavier weapon in a broad arc at the human's exposed side. Marche caught the attack on his shield, and used the momentum of the strike to bring the shield forward. It smashed into the bangaa's face, and sent him sprawling backwards into the railing. Marche stepped after the reeling bangaa, and ran him through with a quick motion from his knightsword.

He turned to face the other attacker, and had just enough time to twist his body awkwardly to put his breastplate in the way of an incoming knife. The human holding the knife jumped back as his weapon clanged uselessly off of the paladin's armour, his feet working hard to put more distance between himself and Marche. The paladin followed, mounting a swift attack routine against his fleeing opponent that kept the human ducking and dodging the entire way.

Then, abruptly, the fleeing human stopped. In a quick motion, he placed his knife between his teeth, then slapped his hands together and pointed towards the deck. Marche was confused for a moment, before he felt something tugging at his ankle. He glanced down, and saw that the wood of the deck planks just beneath his feet had twisted, reaching up with crooked fingers to latch around his ankles. He tried to pull his feet away, but it was too late; the wooden tendrils held him fast.

He looked back up, and swiped his shield out in front of himself to block a stab from the other human's knife. Marche slipped his knightsword beneath his shield, and stabbed it forward. It slipped forward, and passed through the other human's chest. He tore his weapon back out, and then turned to try and get a bearing of where he was.

The other human had managed to get him caught in place just in front of one of the ladders he was supposed to be guarding; the other one, though, was a few feet out of his reach. He cursed beneath his breath, and faced the one ladder he could cover. Isaac and Tifone would have to handle the overflow from the other ladder.

Isaac, seeing the situation that Marche had gotten himself into, was already reloading both of his gunblades. He glanced over to Tifone, and she nodded, stepping towards the few enemies that had already gotten onto their ship. As she engaged them, Isaac raised his two weapons, and pointed them at the crowd assembled on the far end of the ladder, waiting to cross towards them. He started firing, sending out as many stopshots and charmshots as he could to try and create confusion. Once he had fired off all twenty of his bullets, he rushed forward to help Tifone.

She was holding off five warriors, her rapier making a mad dance and pinging off of blade after blade to keep them at bay. It was clear that the effort was having an effect on her, though; sweat was already building on her forehead, and her steps were getting stiff.

Isaac ran in from behind the group of five attacking her, and brought the Avuir Red up and around, smashing its flat into the back of a viera's head. She crumpled with a pained yelp, and immediately the four warriors turned, reacting to the new threat. Isaac jumped back as a bangaa thrust at him with a sword, and then fell back another step as a moogle rushed in and stabbed a knife at his gut.

As Isaac prepared to take another step back, though, there was a loud, shrieking sound, and then a sharp point of purple light flew forward and sliced through the enemy moogle from behind. The moogle stammered for a moment, then collapsed, blood welling up from the wound.

Isaac and Tifone caught the remaining three between them, then, and made quick work of them. The two stood there, panting and catching their breath for a moment. Isaac glanced over at Tifone, and the viera nodded, showing that she was ready for the next bout. Isaac nodded back, and began turning towards the ladder again.

As he did, though, there was a sudden roaring, and an incredible wind kicked up. Isaac tried to call out, but his voice was lost in the roar. For a moment he managed to stay standing up, but within a few seconds, the force of the wind had lifted him off of his feet and thrown him back. He flapped his wings wildly, trying to right himself as he flailed. For a few blinding moments, the world was spinning all around him. The next, his shoulder was hitting the deck. More on instinct than anything else, he managed to turn the impact into an awkward roll, avoiding most of the damage. He got up to his feet, stumbling a few feet in a dizzy haze.

Finally, he righted himself, and turned around, getting his bearings. His eyes instantly fixed on a bangaa standing where Isaac and Tifone had been a moment before, a knightsword clamped in her hand. Behind her, there was a large group of boarders from the ladder, a number of them already hacking and pounding at the door that led below deck.

Isaac shook his head to clear it, then started advancing on the bangaa. Before he had taken three steps, though, she was pointing with her knightsword, and an incredibly bright, white light was gathering along its length. Isaac was surprised, though, when he saw that the bangaa was not pointing her weapon at him; in fact, she had it aimed down and several feet to Isaac's right. In mid-stride, he glanced over in that direction, and his eyes widened.

Tifone had not been as lucky as he had. She was still on the ground, panting heavily and holding her ankle. One glance was enough to tell Isaac that the bone was broken. She stood no chance of getting out of the way of the bangaa's spell.

Recognizing this, he took a deep breath, and forced moonlight out, letting it shine out and coat his body. As he did so, he jumped, throwing himself between Tifone and the bangaa, even as the latter brought her knightsword around in a flourish and called out, "_Heiligkeit_!"

Isaac closed his eyes, but still, as the spell discharged, there was a flash that shone through his eyelids. An incredibly heat slammed against his side for no longer than an instant, and changed his momentum. He went sprawling, still airborne, and then hit against the deck, sliding along its surface until he felt himself bump against Tifone. She gave a grunt at the impact, and then Isaac felt her hands on him, giving him a hard shake. Isaac just made out her words through the haze of vertigo and pain the spell had caused.

"Come on Isaac, pull it together. You don't go down that easy."

Isaac groaned, and he felt the hand pull away. He opened his eyes, and pushed himself up to his hands and knees, glancing back at the bangaa, who he could now clearly identify as a bishop, and muttering beneath his breath.

"Guess it wouldn't be much of a return from the dead if I got beaten that quickly, kupo."

He forced himself up to his feet, his left side still smouldering from the spell's impact. Fortunately, his protective technique had managed to repel much of the damage; still, it had hurt more than he cared to think about. He turned to face the bishop again, and she nodded, bringing her knightsword around into a ready position. Isaac could already see the white light of a new spell beginning to gather around her. To his horror, he saw that behind her, the other boarders had managed to break down the doors leading below decks, and were beginning to pour down. He clamped his blades tighter, and then stood up straight, taking a deep, steadying breath.

"Isaac, tend to Tifone." Isaac felt the viera in question tensing behind him, and he turned to see Rolf, stepping in between them and the bishop. The human had drawn his blade, and there was a clearly visible yellow glow rising off of him. "Once she's up, she takes the helm. Then, I'll keep the bangaa distracted until you can get below decks. Got it?"

"Yes, captain," Isaac and Tifone responded as one.

"Good, then move."

With that, Rolf swiped out with his blade, the wind rippling around the weapon's edge. Abruptly, the bangaa raised her own weapon in a shaky block, holding it vertically in front of her. Solidified wind slammed into the weapon, and the bangaa slid back a few feet across the deck, wind rushing past her.

She stepped forward through the residual wind, and brought her own weapon forward, uttering a command word beneath her breath. Immediately, the white light around her flowed along the weapon's edge, and then burst through as a jet of concentrated water, spraying out at Rolf. The human was already in mid charge towards her and didn't break stride as the spell homed in on him. He simply brought his own weapon up, and yellow light flashed along its length. The water slammed in against the yellow fire dancing on his sword, and splashed harmlessly off of it, scattering across the deck as Rolf kept up his momentum.

Isaac was too busy leaning over Tifone's ankle to pay attention to the two combatants. He laid his paws on either side of the bruising skin, biting his lip as he felt Tifone tense. "Sorry, kupo."

She didn't respond, so he simply focused, and closed his eyes. Silvery light flowed through him, and then out of his hands and into her leg. He felt her tense again, before the muscles relaxed and grew softer beneath his fingers. He opened his eyes again, and saw the bruising receding, and the ankle straightening out slightly. Carefully, he pressed one hand against the skin. "Does it hurt much?"

"Still hurts," she replied, and then placed a hand on his shoulder. He braced himself, and she pulled herself up to her feet using him as a crutch. "Not as bad as it was, though. I can walk on it. Now go, or else Clay will leave you with nothing to do."

Isaac nodded, and as she limped over towards the helm, he turned back to the fight between Rolf and the bishop. They were now engaging in melee combat, their weapons meeting in a steady rhythm of blocks and slashes. Rolf leaned back from one cut, letting it go needlessly high. As he came back forward, he slammed his elbow into the bangaa's chest. The strike forced her back a step, stumbling off balance.

Rolf slashed out after that, still too far away from the bishop for his weapon to even come close to her. Wind blasted out from the blade's edge, and the bishop ducked, letting the attack skim just shy of her head.

Isaac chose that moment to run in, keeping as wide of the duelling pair as he could. He slipped by them, and then through the smashed in doors, taking the stairs down three at a time. Behind him, he heard another spell discharging, and Rolf yelled out. From where he was, Isaac couldn't tell whether it was in pain or anger.

He didn't have the time to go back and check, though. The captain was strong; he could handle it. Instead, Isaac focused his attention straight ahead as he leapt down to the bottom of the staircase. Just down the hallway from him, he saw the crowd that had gotten in through the doorway, bunching up at the entrance to the engine room. He could hear yelling and the ringing of metal off of metal.

Isaac sheathed the Avuir Blue, and then hit a button on the hilt of the Avuir Red. Immediately, the empty clip dropped from the base of the gunblade attachment, and Isaac grabbed a full one from the pouch on his belt. He slipped it into place, then raised it and began firing, trying to aim for the heart of the crowd.

Immediately, those he hit began turning on their comrades, and chaos broke out as the boarders began swinging at each other, none of them sure who was attacking whom.

Isaac rushed headlong into this chaos, and began laying about with the blunt side of the Avuir Red, making sharp cracks ring out wherever he connected. Immediately, he opened a hole around him, as the people he hit either fell back violently, or simply dropped to the ground. He barely even had to block, as the boarders were too distracted trying to figure out which of their partners were charmed to actually mount any counterattack.

Soon enough, Isaac had managed to cut a path through most of the warriors, leaving a trail of unconscious bodies and broken bones in his wake. There were still a fair number up and fighting, but the moogle felt sure that once he'd divided them into two separate clumps, they would be easier to deal with. He twirled as he slammed his blade into the side of a last bangaa's head, sending the tall warrior sprawling to the side. He turned the strike into a full spin, taking the opportunity to check on how close any other attackers were. He was satisfied that they were far enough back for him to take a breather and reload, so he finished his spin, ending up facing the doorway to the engine room.

As soon as he did, though, he cried out in surprise, and raised the Avuir Red in a quick, sloppy block of a blade aimed at his head. His block held solid, but he had to take a sharp step back as his opponent pressed in tighter, slipping beneath their two high blades to drive his shoulder into Isaac's chest.

Isaac stumbled back, caught entirely by surprise by both the attack, and how similar his opponent's combat style was to his own. It involved less style and technique, and a lot more rough and tumble brawling that incorporated the blade as a prop in that. It wasn't until the other moogle's free paw came around, holding a gun, that Isaac recognized his attacker.

"Clay!" he yelped in surprise, then jumped out of the way of a shot from the gun. The movement brought him back in close quarters with one of the remaining groups of boarders, and so he brought the Avuir Red around, slamming its flat against one fighter's shin. As the human cried out and dropped, Isaac just heard Clay's voice from somewhere behind him.

"Isaac, kupo!"

The rest was drowned out as the fighting was suddenly joined again, and the moogles began slashing and shooting their way through the remaining guards. Isaac didn't see Clay for the rest of the battle, but he easily saw the effects of his shots amongst the enemies; everywhere he looked, boarders were fighting amongst each other, and once or twice he came across somebody who was simply frozen in place, not even blinking.

The battle was over within minutes. As Isaac spun one last time, sweeping the legs out from under a viera, he did a quick survey of the hallway. Everywhere, unconscious bodies were slumped over, or boarders were clutching at broken bones, groaning in pain. Isaac and Clay stood where they were, each catching their breath and watching for any movement from their enemies.

Finally, Isaac glanced over to Clay, laughing a bit, and said, "Well, that's quite a way to have a reunion, kupo."

His laughing cut off abruptly as Clay's gun and blade slipped to the ground, and then the taller moogle grabbed him, pulling him into a tight hug. Isaac tensed in Clay's grip, caught completely by surprise. Carefully, he reached a paw around, and patted his friend on the back.

"I thought I'd lost both of you," Clay simply muttered. His voice was monotone, and he was perfectly steady as he grasped the brown furred moogle.

For a few long moments, they stood like that. Then, Isaac said, "This is awkward, kupo."

"It totally is," Clay replied. He let Isaac go, and smirked at him. "If you want to avoid any similar awkward moments in the future, try not to get yourself killed, kupo."

Isaac laughed. "Fair enough. I see you've started learning some melee?"

Clay nodded, and went over, grabbing his weapons and replacing them in their sheath and holster. He headed into the engine room, and Isaac followed. "Yeah, kupo. I found one of Foobar's old blades after you left for the Siena Gorge, and got Tifone and Rolf to teach me a bit. It's come in handy, as you can see."

As the two of them stepped inside, another moogle came running up to meet them. It took a moment for Isaac to recognize her, what with the soot and grease staining her fur and clothes. When he did, though, he nearly fell over, staring. "Cecilia! What are you doing here, kupo?"

She stopped, looking him up and down too. "Nice to see you're alive, captain."

"Not your captain anymore," Isaac said, more on reflex than anything else at this point. He was still somewhat stunned to find her on the ship. "Your captain's Newman, kupo. Or…" He glanced from Cecilia to Clay, and back again. "Rolf?"

"Rolf," Clay confirmed. "We couldn't run this ship with just one mechanic, try as I might, kupo. I was with Foobar for too long."

"So… Cecilia?" Isaac asked, glancing back to the younger moogle again.

"I'm supposed to follow in your footsteps, kupo," she replied, shrugging. "I couldn't let your former ship go under-crewed."

Isaac stared at her for a few seconds, still surprised by both her decision, and her current appearance. Normally she kept herself pretty clean, which was quite a feat on an airship. Right now, though, she showed all the signs of a moogle who had been working in an engine room without taking the time for a bath in days. He gaped at it for a few moments, then came to the only conclusion he could: Clay was rubbing off on her.

"She's a much better mechanic than you ever were," Clay said, clearly enjoying Isaac's surprise. "Didn't have to teach her nearly as much as Foobar and I had to teach you, kupo. Sings a bit too much, but I can live with that."

"I don't complain when you join in, kupo, even though your voice is terrible," Cecilia bit back. Isaac almost jumped in shock at hearing her matching the gunner's quip.

"Either way," Clay said, changing the topic as quickly as he could, "you can see we're well set up here, kupo. No need to worry about anything."

"Right…" Isaac muttered, trying not to sound too surprised by the whole arrangement. He shrugged, then just turned, and said, "I should get back to the deck. Keep the engines running, kupo."

"Wait, Ca… Isaac," Cecilia said, and Isaac stopped at that, turning to face her. He could count the number of times she'd called him by name on one paw. She hesitated for a moment, then said, "When this is over, I won't see you again, will I?"

He didn't respond for a longer time than he liked. He glanced down, then at last said, "No. You won't, kupo."

"Right, kupo."

Isaac bit his lip. Over the past years, he had grown close to Cecilia in a way quite different from anybody else he'd ever known. It felt wrong to just tell her goodbye and then leave. He swallowed, then said, "You remember what I told you, back when all this started, before I left the _Red Flash_, kupo?"

"Yes," Cecilia nodded, letting her eyes leave his. "I'll find the blade once it's all over."

"Good, good," Isaac said. Then, abruptly, he added, "Don't be too eager to find it, though, kupo."

Both Clay and Cecilia gave him an odd look at that one. The younger moogle stammered, "K-kupopo?"

"The blade will go to whoever's most worthy of it, kupo," Isaac shrugged. "That's you, and I've known that for some time. But, before you go and find it and have to take up the responsibility of learning and using the power… stick around with Clay and everybody here for a while, kupo. Have some fun."

Cecilia cocked an eyebrow at him. It was a far cry from the normal hesitance or respect she showed him. Clay was definitely rubbing off on her. "Is that an order, kupo?"

"Sure."

Cecilia pursed her lips, then said, "Well. I'll think about it, kupo. Isaac." A grin spread across her face as she added the last word.

Isaac laughed at that, then turned, shaking his head as he headed for the door. "Give my regards to July, kupo."

"No teary-eyed goodbye for me, kupo?" Clay called.

"Nope," Isaac called over his shoulder, and raised a paw to wave as he stepped out of the engine room and back into the hallway. He picked his way across the unconscious and dropped boarders, moving as quickly as he could. He tried hard not to think about the fact that that might be the last time he ever saw those two, his first teacher and first student in Ivalice. He had other things to worry about.

As he stepped up onto the deck, Isaac took a quick look around, taking in the scene. His eyes widened as he saw the many large burn marks and dents across the ship's deck. He quickly saw the source, and was amazed to see that Rolf was still fighting with the bishop from before. She must have been quite the warrior to last this long against the skilled captain, but she was clearly beginning to tire, now. As Isaac watched, Rolf ducked easily beneath a blast of water, and then charged forward, sweeping his blade out at her.

The bangaa took a step back, off balance. She stopped abruptly, though, as she felt the ship's banister pressing against her back. She'd run out of room to back up. She cursed, and as Rolf closed with her, she caught his blade on the edge of her knightsword. She held the strike, and the two of them leaned in, each trying to exert their weight upon the other.

Rolf held strong for a few moments, but eventually, the bangaa's greater mass won out. He slipped back a step, and seeing him stumbling, she gave a hard shove. Rolf stumbled back several steps, and lost his footing, falling back into a sitting position.

Immediately, the bishop rushed in towards him, raising her knightsword for a finishing blow. Rolf didn't even try to get up or roll out of the way. Instead, he just lifted up his blade, grasped it in both hands, and swung. His hair fluttered as the wind around him twisted, then blasted out from him. The surprised bangaa didn't even have time to react as the blast flew up and forwards, slamming beneath her chin. She cried out, and was lifted from her feet. The force of the air attack was powerful enough to send her flying until her back landed on the banister. With a yell, she slipped back, and fell from the edge.

As Rolf was picking himself up, Isaac checked on the rest of the group. Marche had managed to tear his feet free from the wooden tendrils, and was now working to defend three ladders, mainly through brute force rather than any real finesse. To his right, Grans and Vili were holding off a group of four ladders between them, with Grans using her whip to knock people off at a distance, while Vili dealt with anybody who got too close for the nu mou to handle. On the far left, Caitlin was moving like a blur, constantly dancing between four ladders and never stopping in her motion. Her two swords swung about her in precise and deadly arcs, sending soldiers careening off into the open air. Isaac felt an odd draw as he watched her, and felt his eyes beginning to flutter with approaching sleep. He gasped, then shook his head, clearing it. Caitlin must have been using her Third Eye to an incredible extent if it was pulling at him this strongly.

"We can't keep this up much longer," Rolf muttered, surprising Isaac. The human stepped up beside him, and wiped sweat from his brow. "They outnumber us by too much. Even if we can keep those ladders protected, there's no way that our mages will be able to keep up our defences for much longer."

Isaac watched the captain's face, trying to read it. The human's eyes were dark, and even though he was panting heavily, he was keeping his gaze trained on the opposite deck.

"What do we need, captain?" Isaac asked.

"We need a counterattack," Rolf replied, speaking slowly and carefully. "We need to get over there, and cause some chaos. Slow down the flow of attackers. Maybe even do some damage to their masts or helm. Anything that'll give us an edge and buy us some time to rest."

Isaac nodded slowly. "I can do that, kupo."

Rolf bit his lip at that, shaking his head. Then he sighed. "I know." He was quiet for a few more moments, and when he spoke again, his voice was hard. "Get over there, and if things start getting too dangerous, return immediately. You just came back, Isaac. Don't steal that from everybody already."

"I'm on it, kupo."

As Isaac turned to go, though, he felt a hand on his arm. He turned, and was stunned to see Lindsay standing there, her intense gaze on him. Purple fire was still dancing off of her, but it didn't burn his skin as it danced over its surface.

"I will accompany you."

"I'm sorry, kupo?"

"If I can confront their summoners directly, I may be able to defeat them," Lindsay said, her voice remaining perfectly monotone. Even though her face was dripping with sweat, and the fire rising off of her was intense, she was acting as though she was in a casual situation, entirely unbothered by the chaos around her. For a moment, Isaac questioned what had happened to her pained stance before, when the battle began. However, he decided it was best not to question her. Instead, he nodded, and then headed towards the front section of the deck, running up the stairs.

As he and the viera stepped up onto the higher deck, they saw Eileen there, surrounded by an orange and gold fire. She was in the middle of throwing her hands forward, letting a jet of that fire blast forward from her. Immediately, a series of massive explosions erupted all along the hull of the enemy ship, each time being met by a flash of white light.

She pulled back from that round of attacks, then tensed, her eyes darting across the opposite deck. Suddenly, she lifted her arms, and three tongues of lightning jumped out from the _Invincible_. Two of them rebounded as they reached the edge of the banister, but the third one leapt across. Eileen's orange fire flared out as the lightning collided with her, and for an instant, the electricity crackled against her magic, trying to force its way through. Eileen stood like that for a few moments, holding the lightning at bay. Then, abruptly, she swept her arm to the left, and the electricity bounced away from her, flying off to discharge into the sky.

As she pulled back from her block, she turned towards the crow's nest, and yelled, her voice booming, "Eugene! Reflection spells are failing over here!"

Eugene yelled something that Isaac didn't catch, but Eileen nodded, and turned back towards the other ship. As she moved, though, she caught sight of Isaac and Lindsay, standing there watching her. For a moment she was surprised. That moment passed quickly though, exasperation replacing the expression on her face.

"You're going to do something stupid, aren't you?"

"Probably, kupo," Isaac replied. He nodded towards Lindsay. "I'm not going alone this time, though."

She looked carefully at him, and opened her mouth to speak. Then, she stopped, and cocked her head to the side. At last, she muttered, "I know better than to try and convince you not to do this."

"Sorry," Isaac replied, and he meant it. "I know you hate it when this happens."

"It's alright," she replied. Then, abruptly, she turned back towards the enemy ship. She raised a hand, and it flared with her magical energy. She drove it back down, and a meteor at least the size of a human plummeted down. It slammed against the _Invincible_'s hull, and exploded with fire, even as a white light flashed over the point of contact. As the smoke cleared, they all saw a few small burn marks etched into the wood. Eileen grinned at that, then abruptly, she turned back to Isaac.

"I'm not fighting Max alone."

Isaac was slightly taken aback by this, but even more so by the serious look in her eyes. He finally muttered, "Sorry, kupo?"

"If you don't come back from this, I'll just let him kill me," she said, her voice steady. "I won't fight him without you."

The moogle stared at her for a few moments longer. Then, at last, he spoke again. "You won't have to, kupo. I'm fighting Maxwell. I won't let myself die until I've at least tried to save him."

"Alright, then," she nodded to him, and turned to face the other ship again, flexing her fingers. "Good luck."

Isaac nodded back. He glanced over his shoulder at Lindsay, and asked, "Do you have a way to get across?"

"I will manage," the viera said, still expressionless.

Isaac turned back to the _Invincible._ Then, he stepped up, until he was balancing on the banister, crouching to make himself as small as possible. Carefully, he sheathed the Avuir Red, and his paw fell to the Avuir Blue. He felt the lightness flooding his body, and his balance became a bit sharper. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Then, he jumped out, his wings flaring outwards. With the help of the Avuir Blue, he launched himself forward, only flapping occasionally to gain more height. Within a few moments, he had passed over the opposite deck's banister, but he kept moving. He knew that his best bet would be to get as close to the mast as possible before he was forced to land; that way, he would have the least distance to have to fight.

Already, though, there were soldiers rushing across the deck, moving to intercept him. He tried to bob and weave his way around the few stabs that came up at him, occasionally lifting up higher to avoid an attack. When he heard the telltale twang of a bowstring, though, he knew that it was time to land.

Isaac ducked down abruptly, dropping to his feet. Immediately, he had the Avuir Red out, and he twirled it and its twin blade about, slamming them into the sides of the two nearest soldiers. He tried to put his brute force to work, throwing his opponents into each other rather than just dropping them. Space was going to be a precious commodity, here. He had to make sure he had enough room to move, and to take off again if need be.

He threw himself forward through the space left by one of his dropped opponents, and then kept slashing and batting, laying about with the flats of the two blades as more and more soldiers pressed in. Isaac quickly blocked out his rational mind, and fell into that empty place he sometimes occupied while fighting; the realm where he existed solely on instinct, and he smothered all thought. It was all feeling.

As he was fighting, he just managed to catch something out of the corner of his eye. He glanced that way for an instant, and it took all of his discipline to not stop and stare at what he was seeing. Lindsay was floating, simply floating across the gap between the two ships, the purple flames radiating off of her. Isaac wasn't sure how she was going to keep herself defended once she landed, but that wasn't his concern now. She'd said that she could handle it, so he would trust that she could.

Isaac had just finished smashing the Avuir Blue's amethyst pommel into a human's forehead when he glanced up, and found that suddenly, the area around him wasn't quite as tightly bunched as before. Seeing this as an opportunity, he dodged around he bangaa in front of him, using the Avuir Red to sweep the lizard's feet out from under him as he passed by. He took a direct path towards the mast, gripping both of his blades tightly. There were a few soldiers still gathered about, but none of them were moving to intercept him. If Isaac's head had been clearer, he might have wondered a bit more about that.

As it was, though, he closed the distance between himself and the mast quickly. Just before he reached it, a viera rushed forward, her rapier flashing out at him. Isaac began bringing his blades around to block, but then, his ear twitched. Though his mind didn't pick up the sound in its blank state, Isaac's body reacted with incredible speed. The moogle stopped, and then kicked off, throwing himself back and bending back at the waist. Even as he did, he felt air rustle the fabric of his shirt.

There was a loud thunk, and suddenly a knife was embedded into the mast, just next to Isaac. The moogle just managed to pull himself back up to a stable standing position, staring at the knife. It hadn't just stuck in; it had sunk all the way up to the guard.

And then, from somewhere behind him, Isaac heard a voice speak, and the mog knight's breath caught in his throat.

"I thought I told you to hang back?"

The viera that had moved to intercept Isaac ducked her head. "Sorry, sir."

"Your life wouldn't have been in danger over that one, because I'm certain he wouldn't have killed you, but he definitely would have taken you out of this battle. Isn't that right, Isaac?"

Isaac was still staring at the knife embedded in the mast. He had been too shocked to actually turn around until this point. At the mention of his name, though, he was shaken from his reverie. Slowly, his entire body shaking, he turned, not certain what he was hoping to see.

Finally, he came to face the voice, and he took a step back, both of his blades hanging down at his sides from his limp wrists. As he stared, he remembered Maxwell's words from so long ago, back from the first time that he'd set foot on the _Invincible's_ deck, telling him that the Queen could bring the dead back to life.

At last he managed to find his voice. Looking at the features; the nose crooked from being broken, the very edge of a scar visible beyond the v neck of his shirt; he could only find one thing to say.

"Thomas, kupo?"

The white furred moogle nodded stiffly, his grip visibly tightening on the hilts of his daggers. "Hey, Isaac, kupo. It's been a while."


	128. Decisions

A/N: HE LIVES.

There are times when it takes a small thing to defeat my writer's block. This time, it was a song. _Albatross_ by The Besnard Lakes. That is the official song for this chapter.

Yeah, honestly, there are a couple reasons why this is so late. Firstly, writing fights between summoners is _hard_, man. Huge amounts of description, and four characters of the same race, same class, and same gender. Identifying subjects was a constant problem. The second issue would be life giving me a major kick in the arse. It's all working out, though, slowly but surely. Later all.

* * *

Eileen watched as Isaac jumped from the edge of the ship, her eyes following him as his powerful wings carried him through the air. She'd said that he could go, true. It didn't make things any better.

"Your time draws near."

Eileen felt a hand on her shoulder, and she turned to find Lindsay looking at her, the viera's eyes steadily fixed on her own.

"The time for your decision draws near, Eileen of the Five."

Eileen stared at the viera, and then remembered herself, stammering out a few words. "My decision… what are you—?"

The viera's free hand shot out and grabbed hold of Eileen's wrist. The nu mou bit back a yelp, equally as surprised by the strength behind the viera's grip as she was by the sudden action. Lindsay yanked the Alchemist's hand up, and held it squarely in front of her face.

"This ring," Lindsay spoke, nodding at the band around Eileen's finger. "It carries the weight of decision."

Eileen was silent for a long moment, staring at the summoner. They were both deaf to the battle raging around them; more than once, Eugene called to them from the crow's nest, but both ignored him.

"How much do you know?" Eileen finally whispered.

"More than you believe," she replied, "and less. I know of the roles given to you and your friends. I know of the nature of that ring, and the power it holds back within you. Most importantly, I know of your feelings for him, and his feelings for you. I know the lengths to which all of you are willing to go, you for him, him for you. The question now is whether you will choose to go to those lengths."

Eileen licked her suddenly dry lips, unprepared for Lindsay to speak so much, and with so much weight. The alchemist finally managed to find her voice, though, and stammered, "It's time for my choice?"

"It is time for many choices," Lindsay replied, inclining her head. "I am making mine as we speak. Yours shall be soon. And then, the final three members of the six shall have to make theirs soon after."

"Six? Don't you mean…" Eileen trailed off as she saw the look on Lindsay's face. "Since when have there been six?"

"Since the beginning," Lindsay replied. "One has simply been dormant, waiting to be awoken to his purpose."

Eileen wanted to ask more, but Lindsay was already stepping away. The purple light gathered around her as she approached the banister, and then, suddenly, it flared up, and her foot fell solidly on the air. She stepped up, as though climbing an invisible staircase, and soon she was stepping over the railing. She turned back, then, her eyes glowing blindingly with violet light, and fixed Eileen with her gaze.

"Farewell, Eileen of the Five, Greatspell of the Alchemists, Ultimate of the Nu Mou, and Avatar of Ultima. With my choice, I may just spare you from having to decide. Be ready, though. For all my efforts, he may still need you."

And then, she was gone, walking out across the open air.

* * *

"You're alive."

"You aren't looking so bad yourself, kupo."

"But Max said you were dead!"

"Funny, he told me the same about you."

Isaac stared at Thomas, unable to reply. The entire ship was strangely quiet as the crew watched the two moogles; Isaac, alone by the mast, with an open ring around him for several metres; Thomas, standing flanked by his crew. Now that he looked closer, Isaac saw that Thomas had grown a good deal over the past three and a half years. He had become more bulky, his previously lean frame gaining definition. In fact, the juggler was probably only a bit smaller than Isaac in mass, now, though he still had a few inches in eight over the gunner.

"Sir?" A voice interrupted the silence, and both Thomas and Isaac's eyes flicked over to the viera that had spoken. She went on, addressing Thomas. "How do we proceed with the battle, sir?"

"Did I say to halt the attack, kupo?" Thomas snapped.

"Well, no, sir, but—"

"Then proceed as you were." The moogle's voice was clear and resonant, carrying over the massive ship. "We press the attack until I say otherwise. Is that understood?"

His words were met with an uneasy chorus of, "Yes, sir."

"Good. None of you are strong enough to fight him. I will deal with the mog knight, kupo. Keep out of our way."

With those words, the crew began moving again. They all quickly left the deck that Isaac and Thomas were occupying, giving them plenty of room. As the others left, though, three viera remained behind. Thomas cast them a questioning look, and in reply, one of them glanced up distractedly.

"Their summoner," she said. "She comes. She is drawn to the struggles of the Ultimate."

That gave both Isaac and Thomas pause. They glanced at each other, and at length, Thomas spoke.

"Keep her busy. I don't want any interruptions here, kupo."

The three viera nodded together, and stepped away towards the rail. This left Isaac and Thomas alone together, sizing each other up. Isaac was still feeling somewhat disconnected from everything going around him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the rational bit of him was saying that he ought to be terrified; clearly Thomas meant to fight. Even more importantly, this was living proof that Maxwell had been right about the Queen's power. How could anything that Isaac and Eileen were doing mean anything if the Queen could just bring their friends back from the dead?

Neither of those thoughts seemed very important, though. The mogknight was too floored by the simple fact that Thomas was alive. He felt a rush of emotions, all of them flooding through him too fast for him to follow. In the end, it all boiled down to an odd cocktail of profound relief, but also guilt. Seeing the juggler here now was bringing back that day when the two of them, along with Lini, Montblanc, and July, were splitting up and leaving Baguba port. He remembered keenly that odd instinct he'd felt, the desire to ask Thomas to come with him so that they could put their pasts behind them. That was it, Isaac knew; the one thing above all others that he felt guilty for.

"Well," Thomas finally said. Isaac shook his head, rousing himself from his reverie. He looked up to see the juggler raising his knives. "We may as well get this over with."

Isaac simply stared for a few moments before replying. "Wait, kupo. We… why?"

"I don't have a choice, Isaac. Just like last time, I don't want to do this."

"Then why are you?" the mogknight demanded. "Why can't we just walk away from this? I mean… I thought you were already dead!"

"So it won't take much effort for you to start thinking that again," Thomas replied. "It's bigger than what we want, kupo. We have no choice."

"But it doesn't have to be bigger, kupo! I don't know what happened to you, but I could care less! I won't kill you. If you feel the same, there's no need for us to fight."

"But there is! Isaac… the Queen gave me my life. She can take it away just as easily. She's… she's more powerful than you can imagine. I don't want to die, kupo."

Isaac searched for words. He knew there had to be some sort of way to get past this, to make Thomas see reason. But the more he searched, the fewer words he found. At last, he lowered his head.

"I'm sorry, Thomas. I've had more than a few chances to stop this… to stop all of this. But every time you and I fight, things gets worse. I don't want to do this, but I will if I have to, kupo. I just… I've fought too many friends already."

Thomas was silent for a while. Then, slowly, he raised his knives again, and began advancing. "Come on, kupo."

Isaac sighed, and he, too, raised his weapons. He stepped forward, gradually settling into a more relaxed fighting stance as he drew closer to the juggler.

Both of them kept their speeds more or less constant, a determined walk, until they were only ten feet away from each other. Then, suddenly, Thomas lunged, leading with a direct stab from one of his knives.

Isaac caught the strike easily on the edge of the Avuir Blue, and lunged quickly at Thomas's head with his other blade. The juggler ducked quickly, and stepped in, using his weapons' shorter reach to put Isaac at a disadvantage. He led in with his free knife, using the other to keep the Avuir Blue at bay.

Isaac pulled his gut in, and staggered a full step back. He already knew that this battle would be won almost entirely based upon range. At mid-range and extreme close up, Thomas would have no trouble pinning Isaac down or simply slicing him to pieces. At longer ranges, or when they were within two or three metres of each other, Isaac would have complete control of the battle. And, so, the mogknight worked now to open up a bit of space between himself and Thomas, hoping to be able to bring his weapons' greater weight and length to bear.

Thomas, however, was equally aware of the difference even a small gap would mean in this battle. The juggler stepped in time with Isaac, drawing his left hand across in a backslash at the mog knight's face. The brown moogle ducked hard beneath the blow, and then threw his weight awkwardly out to the right with his hip, dodging a gut stab from Thomas's free knife. If it weren't for the Avuir Blue's power enhancing his balance, he probably would have fallen over. As it was, though, Isaac had enough presence of mind about him to spin the Avuir Red in his palm, and then jab its hilt forward, slamming its amethyst pommel into Thomas's ribs.

The white moogle stumbled back, gasping in pain. Isaac took advantage of the opportunity to stand up and sheathe the Avuir Blue. Then, he gripped the red blade in both hands, and lunged forward, slashing violently at Thomas's head.

The juggler crouched, letting the attack pass high of his head. Though still winded, he ran forward beneath the slash, knowing he had to close the distance. He brought both knives forward, lunging out with both in a low double thrust.

Isaac saw the attacks coming, and knew that there was no way he could deflect both, especially with his own weapon in such an awkward position. So, instead, he just jumped, flapping his wings hard as he threw himself upwards. Thomas tried to adjust his knives' angle towards Isaac's legs, but the mogknight simply pulled them up and out of range.

Isaac instantly stopped his flapping once he'd gotten by Thomas, knowing he'd have better manoeuvrability on the ground. As he dropped, he turned in midair, his blade already raised and ready to block. His eyes caught the flash of a dagger coming towards him, and he brought his weapon around quickly to deflect the projectile.

He let out a surprised grunt as he felt the dagger collide with the Avuir Red. The force of the impact actually pushed him back a few inches through the air, and he had to fight to keep it from turning him around. He had to swipe his blade out twice more before he touched the ground as Thomas sent more knives at him. The juggler didn't even look like he was putting too much effort into the throws, and yet each impact sent sharp vibrations running up Isaac's wrists.

Isaac's feet hit the deck, and he took the opportunity to duck the next knife. Even after deflecting only three, his wrists were aching with an uncomfortable rubbery feeling. Thomas kept up the stream of daggers, his paws a blur as he sent missile after missile at the shorter moogle. Isaac sidestepped, and then started running, swiping out his blade occasionally to deflect a knife. He constantly felt knives flying by just shy of him, and he didn't have to look to know that each one was embedding itself fully into the deck up to its guard. As Thomas threw, the juggler stepped, his feet sure on the deck, using his knives and his own movement to keep the mogknight at bay.

Isaac knew he couldn't keep this up for too long. Eventually, he would either trip, or he would misjudge a knife's angle. So, the mogknight steeled himself, and then, just after deflecting a knife, he threw himself to the side in a dive. He rolled as he hit the deck, and had no time to check if his manoeuvre had bought him any time before he came up to his feet, and pivoted, swiping his blade around as he did so.

Fortunately, Thomas hadn't had the time to adjust his aim and throw a knife yet, so Isaac was free to send out a blast of moonlight from his weapon. The blade of silvery light crossed the distance between the two of them quickly, and Thomas was forced to jump awkwardly to the side, dropping a knife he'd been halfway through throwing. He dodged the attack easily, but Isaac came in quickly behind it, bringing the Avuir Red around in a two-handed slash. Thomas instantly dropped the other throwing knife he held, and suddenly his two combat knives were back into his paws, and he raised them in a double-block of the slash.

The juggler was forced back a step, his eyes widening. Using both hands, and with the Avuir Red, Isaac could swing harder than most bangaa. Still, Thomas managed to stay on his feet, and slide one knife forward, then away from the block to jab at Isaac's chest.

The brown moogle hopped back, biting his lip as he felt the tip of the knife slip through his shirt and score a shallow puncture. He brought his blade up quickly, slapping the smaller weapon away, and then pointed the tip of his own weapon towards the juggler. The mogknight pumped his finger on the trigger, not even bothering to load any of the shots with additional effects.

Thomas launched himself to the side and out of the way, turning the dive into a one-handed cartwheel of sorts. Even as he moved, he somehow managed to toss his melee knife into the air, and pull a throwing knife out from somewhere. He flicked his wrist, and the small projectile launched towards Isaac as the juggler reached out and plucked his melee knife out of the air, finishing his cartwheel.

Isaac had more than enough time to deflect this knife, his blade flicking out and picking it out of the air. The vibrations ran painfully up his arm, but he kept his grip on his blade tight as he watched the juggler coming up to his feet.

The two glared at each other, both of their chests heaving a bit with the exertion. Though they had lowered their weapons, their eyes were still fixed on each other. Both of them were surprised; Isaac by Thomas's incredible strength, especially seeing as the juggler was still moving just as fast as he had three years ago, and Thomas by Isaac's skill with his blades.

Of course, both had heard of each other's exploits over the past years, even though Isaac was only just realizing who all those tales were actually about. It had always been a cardinal rule in the skies; avoid the general of the Palace's fleet. The rumours were terrifying, and though exaggerated, Isaac was beginning to understand the truth behind them. The rumours of being able to drop a fully armoured bangaa at twenty feet; of moving like smoke, not even seeming solid until his blade slipped between your ribs; of moving independently of time, killing half of a crew before they've even drawn blades. Yes, Isaac could imagine all of them, now. Wearing armour would help you none against Thomas; after blocking a few of those throwing knives, Isaac didn't doubt that they would rend through solid steel with little trouble. The juggler's melee strikes were still lacking in that brute force, but they more than made up for it in their blinding speed.

Abruptly, both moogles stiffened, their ears pricking up on top of their heads. As one, they turned towards the railing that was still facing the _Fallen Star II_. All three of Thomas's summoners stood there, waiting motionlessly as, just beyond them, a purple inferno floated gradually closer. For the first few moments, both moogles simply stared, dumbfounded by the mass of light, neither fully understanding.

It probably took Isaac a good ten seconds before he came to the sudden realization that the tower of purple flames was Lindsay. Even as she drew closer, he could only just make out the barest hints of her silhouette at the centre of the mass. He could see her long white hair, whipping violently in the wind kicked up by her magic, and the way that her cloak was constantly billowing up and outwards. It looked as though, within that core of the purple flames, she was constantly falling, yet never moving downward.

The three summonders on the deck began moving. Their steps were slow, but after how long they'd held themselves still, the motions seemed sudden and sharp. One stepped forward, closer to the rail, and her back straightened. The other two spread out, away from the centre viera, to flank her further along the railing. As those two walked though, all three of the viera on the deck seemed to… shift. The image of the one heading to the left seemed to shimmer; almost a rippling in the air, it looked like. On the right, the other flanking viera's breath was letting out small puffs, her skin beginning to blush slightly. Finally, an odd light was building around the centre viera, almost flickering.

As they moved further, the changes became more evident. Wherever the left viera stepped, there was a small puff of smoke, and her footsteps left singes on the deck. The wooden planking all around the right summoner creaked, and spindly fingers of frost crawled out from all she touched. The centre viera's change was less obvious; however, every few seconds, a few sparks, or occasionally even a tiny fork of electricity jumped from her to scatter across the wooden deck.

Then, as one, all three summoners raised their arms, and pointed at Lindsay. She, herself, stopped moving forward, and simply hung between the two ships. The three summoners on the deck all abruptly flared up with purple light. The wind around the two ships kicked up in time with those flames, going from a soft whistling to a dull roar. Within a few seconds, the sails were whipping and billowing violently, causing the ships to buck dangerously. Beside Isaac, Thomas was yelling above the gale, giving orders to his crew as the ship rocked with the force of the wind. Soon, the crews of both ships were scrambling to furl their sails, and the two ships began pulling away from each other a bit, neither wanting to be caught so close to another ship in such dangerous winds.

In all the commotion, though, most people missed the odd distortion of the sky just above the three summoners on the _Invincible_'s deck. For a few seconds, the blueness of the sky twisted, seeming to warp and bend around three central points; one directly above each of the summoners. Then, suddenly, the distortions seemed to open up, stretching outwards into three distinct shapes. On the left, red and black stretched outwards into the bulky form of a minotaur, wreathed in smoke and flames, a massive hammer clutched in one meaty hand. On the right, blue and white filled the distortion into the lithe and cloaked form of a clearly female warrior. An icy and silver helm sat on her head, covering her entire upper half of her face. Her blue cloak looked to be lined with white fur as it swept down over her, concealing all the rest of her body but for her hands. She carried a simple round shield in one hand, and a long sword in the other, both of the same silvery substance as the helm. Finally, between the minotaur and the warrior, an old man had already finished materialzing, hunched over and covered in a deep yellow cloak, almost fringing on brown. A long white beard hung from the hood, and a wizened, gnarled old staff was clutched in its barely visible, wrinkled hand.

Seeing the three of them appearing like that, all at once, was enough to make Isaac take a step back, his mouth hanging open and his grip growing slick on the hilt of the Avuir Red. Thomas shot him a glance as he noticed the mogknight's fear, then followed his gaze. He stared for a few seconds, and then muttered, "Fuck…"

Even as he said it, the three summoners all tensed, and then thrusted their hands out towards Lindsay. At once, the summoned gods above them moved. The hammer, the sword, and the staff all came forward, and flames, shards of ice, and lightning lanced out from them.

Lindsay was moving, suddenly. She reached out towards Ifrit, her hands balling into fists as the purple light of her magic lanced out towards the fire god. Immediately, the summoner controlling the minotaur let out a yelp, and the flow of the purple light of her magic faltered. Lindsay didn't pause, and drew her hands across in a wrenching motion. Immediately, the flames erupting from Ifrit's hammer bent, the pillar swerving around in front of the other two gods' attacks.

The fork of lightning cut through the flames cleanly, not at all deterred by the heat. As the fire and ice collided, though, there was a hissing that roared out even louder than the wind, and superheated vapour spread out towards both decks.

As the jagged bolts of electricity reached out towards her, Lindsay pulled one hand away from her hold on Ifrit, and held it out before her, wreathed in purple light. The lightning suddenly contracted down, the various bolts coming together and forming into a single, blinding line. It slammed in against her palm, and there was a clap of deafening thunder as purple light flared up. The lightning seemed to shatter around that purple light, scattering off in all directions.

A few small tongues reached out and ran over Lindsay, leaving burns on her robes and causing her to shake a bit with spasms. The vast majority of the energy, though, spread out around her, slamming into the hulls of both ships. For a few moments, barriers of white light jumped up to block these errant streaks. After a few seconds, though, the energy smashed through the defences, and there was a horrid screeching as wood began splintering and catching light along both of the ships.

Ignoring the damage that had just been inflicted on both of the ships, Lindsay suddenly lunged forward, that purple light fanning out behind her as she closed with the other three summoners. The one controlling Ifrit was still staggering, sending out flashes of purple light as she reforged her bond with the fire god. The two summoners controlling Shiva and Ramuh, though, were ready, and as Lindsay came in, both moved their hands around, directing their respective gods.

As they were beginning, though, Lindsay flicked a hand out towards the one controlling Shiva. For an instant, a small portion of the purple flames covering Lindsay flashed green, and then a ball of fire erupted from her fingers, racing towards the other summoner.

The summoner controlling Shiva stopped her movements as she saw the fire coming towards her, and moved quickly, yelling something out and raising both hands in a fast cupping motion. Above her, Shiva mirrored her action, raising that sword high in a slash towards the heavens. Suddenly, the frost on the deck in front of the summoner controlling Shiva seemed to leap up, ice crystals rising in instants to form a great wall of ice a few feet in front of her.

No sooner had the wall been formed than Lindsay's fireball slammed into it. There was a hiss of steam, nearly lost in the wind, and the fireball seemed to split apart at its centre. It spread out, forming into chords of flame that reached around the wall, hugging the cool barrier. Steam came off of the points of contact in sharp bursts, and a moment later, the top half of the wall came off of the bottom, the fire having sliced right through it. The top half teetered for a moment, then fell backwards, toppling towards the summoner that had brought it into being.

All of this went unnoticed by Lindsay and the summoner controlling Ramuh. They were focused on each other, as Lindsay rushed towards her, and the other summoner slashed her hand out forward. Above, Ramuh moved in time with his summoner, lightning bursting forth from his staff as he swung it down at Lindsay.

Much to everybody's surprise, Lindsay didn't move to dodge or cast a spell. Instead, her speed forward increased, and the purple flames flooding off of her grew in intensity. As the arc of electricity flashed down in front of her, she lowered her head, and passed through it. Sparks exploded for the instant of contact, and smaller forks of lightning scattered over the hull of the _Invincible_. A moment later, though, Lindsay came out the other side of the blast; she was covered in burns, some of which were already beginning to bubble up into blisters, but she held steady.

The summoner controlling Ramuh staggered back a step, her eyes wide as she tried to come up with a counter. Her moment of thought cost her, though, as Lindsay slammed into her, hitting her with a full body tackle to the chest. Ramuh's summoner fell back, slamming against the deck hard, and Lindsay kept going, rolling as she hit the deck. She came up to her feet, staggering slightly, but managing to stay up.

She turned to face the other three summoners just as, on the right, the toppling wall of ice shattered into countless pieces. They fell to either side of the viera beneath them, the summoner holding her hand up, still glowing purple from the energy she'd used to destroy the wall. On the left, the summoner controlling Ifrit finally got her bearing, standing up straight. The flow of purple light coming off of her grew stable, and above her, Ifrit's form grew more definite. The middle viera was still picking herself up, heavily favouring her right arm. The three of them turned as one, and faced Lindsay again.

Clan Nutsy's summoner took a deep breath, and then that purple light jumped up around her again. Immediately, her stance grew more stable, and she held out both hands before her. Seeing her move, the three other viera took steps, their own magic flaring up as above them, the three gods all began acting as well.

However, Isaac was drawn away from watching the battle when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye. Beside him, Thomas was moving, a knife already in his paw as he drew it back to throw. Isaac's eyes widened as he saw the angle Thomas was lining up, aiming straight for Lindsay's back, and the brown moogle's blade flashed upwards. There was a ringing as the weapons met, and then the Avuir Red clove through the knife, sending its top half skittering across the deck.

Immediately, Thomas kicked a foot against the deck, jumping back a step as those knives reappeared in his paws. Isaac followed close behind him, leading with the Avuir Red. The next few moments were a blur, as Isaac's blade smashed off of the knives again and again, the two moogles constantly switching between attack and defence. Neither of them managed to stay on-balance for the entire exchange, both having to shift their weight constantly to avoid slashes or overextending themselves.

As they fought, the two moogles were constantly surrounded by the roars and sharp retorts of discharging magic from the other end of the deck. Occasionally, a blast of cold air or a cloud of steam would wash over them, chilling or burning them on contact. They were just minor distractions to the two focused combatants; both of the moogles were entirely trained on each other, not letting anything else intrude on their battle. For all that Isaac would have liked to have checked how Lindsay was doing, he knew that Thomas would take him apart if he faltered for even a second.

It was as Isaac's blade was stopping, held out from Thomas's side between the two knives, that both moogles stiffened for a moment. More on instinct than anything else, they both leapt back from each other. Immediately as they parted, light exploded between them, smashing into the deck. Isaac lifted his blade to shelter his face as fragments of flaming wood burst from the deck, scattering everywhere. He only allowed himself a moment to regain his balance as a residual wave of heat washed over him. He looked forward, and his eyes narrowed as he saw the massive gouge torn into the deck's surface by the stray bolt of lightning. On the other side, Isaac saw Thomas sizing up the gap as well. Their eyes met for an instant, and then they started moving.

Isaac quickly grabbed another clip of bullets from his belt, shoving it into the gunblade as Thomas started running towards him. Isaac levelled the gun, and started firing. Thomas's knives came up, swinging in fast arcs, and sparks scattered from them as bullets ricocheted from their edges. Thomas continued forward, his steps measured and stable as he deflected bullet after bullet.

Halfway through one step, though, the juggler yelped, and one of his knives clattered to the ground. He turned his body so that he was sheltering the arm that had just dropped its knife, and kept his remaining weapon moving to deflect the rest of Isaac's attacks.

As soon as Isaac ran out, Thomas turned to face him again, a new knife already in his paw. A large welt was rising on his shoulder, and it was bleeding from where the skin had broken. However, the moogle pushed onwards, and Isaac hadn't even reached for a new clip yet by the time the juggler reached the gouge. Thomas leaped, and brought his unhurt arm around to whip his dagger at the mogknight.

The Avuir Red flashed around and sent the dagger skittering away across the deck. Thomas descended, his remaining knife leading, and Isaac jumped back out of the juggler's range. He began bringing his blade back across, moonlight gathering along its length, but Thomas was too fast for it. The juggler leaped forward as he landed from his jump, and his knife slammed into the Avuir Red's edge. The silver light scattered in all directions from the point of contact, and Isaac stumbled back, caught off guard by the juggler's sudden charge.

Thomas followed, slashing forward with his dagger in fast arcs, even as a new knife materialized in his off hand. Isaac kept his pace backwards hard and fast, knowing he had lots of room to work with.

Both moogles tensed when they heard an intense crack ringing out from where the summoners were doing battle. They glanced over, and immediately disengaged from each other, both moogles throwing themselves to the ground. Before either had even touched the deck, a wave of jagged splinters of ice whizzed by them, sent scattering after Lindsay had been forced to block a blast from Shiva with her magic.

Isaac hit the ground hard, and rolled to control his momentum. He came up to his feet, and staggered a bit, grimacing as pain lanced up his right leg. He reached down, and his hand found a part in the fabric of his pants, just over his right knee. He slipped a finger inside, and winced as his finger touched across a shallow cut, cold to the touch.

He glanced over to Thomas, and saw that the juggler had fared worse. Even from here, Isaac could see three small cuts and gashes on his torso, along with a nasty scratch on his cheek. The juggler looked up from his survey of his own wounds, his eyes narrowing as they fell on Isaac. The two glared at each other, both of them panting heavily by this point.

"We can still end this, Thomas."

"We can't."

"We can fight the Queen and win. We're strong enough."

The juggler scoffed at that. "Strong enough to beat the Queen? You?"

"No, not me, kupo. Us."

Thomas didn't reply for a few long moments. Isaac was fine with that; he needed the break to catch his breath. When Thomas spoke again, his voice was soft, and his breathing more controlled.

"I can't. It's different for you. You have something bigger you're fighting for, here. Your life isn't the worst thing you could lose in this fight, kupo. _My_ life is all I've got."

Isaac opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he said was lost as a roar erupted from the far side of the deck. Still over by the railing, two of Thomas's summoners were jumping back and out of the way. Between them, Lindsay, still enshrouded with purple flames, was holding the wrists of the third summoner. Great flames and smoke leapt from the points of contact between the two of them, as above, Ifrit reared, his form flickering.

The two viera were thrashing, individual jets of flame and purple light erupting between them. As Isaac and Thomas watched, wide-eyed, the summoner controlling Ifrit went down to one knee, her entire body shaking from the stress of holding off Lindsay and controlling her spell. Lindsay leaned forward over her, gritting her teeth as she brought her weight to bear on the other viera.

Suddenly, one of the summoners stepped around so that she was in a straight line behind Lindsay's back. She raised a hand, and made a sharp slashing motion. Immediately, a massive spear of ice launched out from her, passing through the air towards Lindsay's exposed back. As it drew closer, it began shrinking, the intense heat of the air around Ifrit's summoner melting the ice.

Even as the missile was launched, though, Lindsay was moving. She abruptly shifted her balance, and stepped out to the side. Ifrit's summoner, who had been focusing all her weight forward and against Lindsay, let out a yelp of surprise, and stumbled forward, beginning to fall as the melting spear of ice flew forward.

Her body jerked once as the projectile passed through it, emerging out the other side. The impact's momentum kept her up for one moment on one knee, eyes wide with surprise. After a second, though, she simply fell over to the deck, and didn't move again.

Lindsay didn't stop to watch the collapsing summoner. She jumped quickly over her body, and reached a badly burned hand up towards Ifrit. The purple flames around her flared up for a second, and in that moment, the _Invincible_'s third summoner pointed out at her, sending out a jagged bolt of lightning.

Lindsay turned fluidly from pointing at the fire god, her eyes closing, to face her attacker. Her hand swept down to point at the deck, and flames leapt from around her feet, reaching up to stand in the lightning's way. A few small tongues of the electricity still managed to reach forward and tickle at her skin, but the experienced spellcaster hardly felt them by that point.

From that motion, Clan Nutsy's summoner took a step away from her two remaining opponents. Wherever she moved, flames trailed from her, leaving blazing arcs in Isaac's vision as he watched. She moved deftly, sweeping one arm out in front of her at the summoner controlling Ramuh. Up above the ship, Ifrit raised his hammer, and the summoner in question fell back a step in surprise, raising her hands to prepare a defence.

As the minotaur brought his hammer down, though, it wasn't aimed at the summoner. Instead, flames roared out from the weapon, slamming down into the deck between Lindsay and Ramuh's summoner. Immediately, the wood caught, and flames leapt up, creating a sizeable barrier of fire between Ramuh's summoner and the rest of the deck.

With that, Lindsay rounded on the summoner controlling Shiva, flames already gathering around her as she prepared to attack. Isaac's attention was drawn away, though, as beside him Thomas moved again. The juggler had just jumped up, and was now running towards the two fighting summoners, knives in his paws.

Isaac let out a curse, and ran after him, passing the Avuir Red to his right paw as the left pulled out the twin blade. His pace quickened somewhat, and he took a deep breath. The last place he wanted to fight was in the middle of a magical battle. He knew for a fact that his own defences against magic were quite pitiful, and that with the kinds of spells that the summoners were throwing around, even getting clipped would be enough to kill him. The Avuir Blue's magic wouldn't be much protection against that kind of firepower, but at least it would help him avoid the worst of it.

There was a roaring and a creaking as the first spells were exchanged between the two summoners, and Thomas pulled up sharply with a yelp as a jagged hunk of ice smashed into the deck just in front of his feet. Isaac rushed forward while the moogle was distracted, and swung the Avuir Red.

Thomas spun around, both knives rising to block the attack. Isaac brought the Avuir Blue around to slash at his exposed side, but Thomas was too fast. He jumped back, stepping up onto the large piece of ice that the summoners had created. As he went up, he flicked a wrist, and one of his knives flew forward at Isaac's face.

The mogknight's blue weapon reached up and picked the weapon out of the air, even as his red one drove forward in a thrust at the juggler. Thomas used his height to jump up and over the attack, letting the blade pass beneath his feet. As he came down, he planted his feet against the flat of the blade, and wedged it down between his weight and the ice. Isaac grunted in annoyance, and tried to tug the weapon free. When it didn't budge, he released his grip on it, and raised the Avuir Blue to block one of Thomas's stabs. He sidestepped the next attack, and swept his blade out in a slash at the juggler's legs.

Thomas jumped up and backwards, the blue weapon sweeping by just shy of his feet. He pulled his legs up into a tuck, and turned the dodge into a full backflip, landing on the other side of the hunk of ice.

As Thomas turned and ran into the thin haze of smoke beginning to gather around the summoners, Isaac's free hand lunged out and grabbed the hilt of the Avuir Red. He turned with the momentum of his original slash, and brought the red weapon's edge down against the ice. The sharp blade sliced through with little effort, and the two halves of the obstacle fell to either side. Isaac jumped through the gap, and raised the Avuir Blue, aiming its tip at the retreating juggler. He squeezed his finger on the trigger, and the bullets flew from the gunblade.

Thomas turned sharply upon hearing the shots, and raised his knives. He brought the first one around to block the first bullet, and gave a sharp yelp as the shot deflected off of the side of his weapon. There was a momentary flash of light at the contact, and all the fur up along the juggler's arm went up on end as a small charge of electricity ran through it. It only took a moment for Thomas to understand that Isaac had charged all of the bullets with electricity.

He growled in annoyance, and threw himself to the side, rolling as he hit the deck. He came back up to his feet, well out of the way of Isaac's clip of ammo. Thomas raised his knives as the mogknight closed with him, the fingers on the juggler's right paw still twitching a bit on the hilt of its knife.

Isaac stepped into the smoke, and swept out with both blades, cutting in a quick scissor motion at Thomas. The juggler ducked hard beneath the two weapons, and stepped in closer to the mogknight, stabbing with his left knife.

Isaac stumbled back from his attack, the knife managing to score a small hit on his stomach. He sucked in a sharp breath and bit his lip, holding both weapons up and readied as he flashed his eyes down to the wound. It was small enough; if he got a spare moment, he could probably repair most of the damage with a single mog aid. Not that he was expecting to get such a grace period.

He shook his head a bit as Thomas closed again, trying to clear it of the thin smoke all around him. He met the juggler's knife with the Avuir Blue, blocking the attack squarely. He pressed in harder, and pulled the enchanted blade back to slash at Thomas. The juggler took a step back, and then quickly took two more, getting himself clear of Isaac. The white moogle's wrist flicked, and launched a knife out at the other moogle's face.

Isaac dropped to his knees, tilting his head back to avoid the knife. As soon as it had passed, he hopped up to his feet again, crouching as he charged after the retreating juggler.

There was a roar, and suddenly flames raced out of the thicker sections of the smoke where the two summoners were fighting. Isaac stopped abruptly, backpedalling a few steps as fire reached up from the deck in front of him. He cursed, and covered his face as a wave of heat and smoke washed over him. As he walked, though, he kicked his feet off of the deck, and his wings swept down in sharp flaps. All the warm air lifted him up, letting him rise above the growing inferno on the deck. He didn't take the time to look around, instead focusing on following after the juggler.

He flapped hard, and spied Thomas through the thickening smoke, still rushing towards the center of all the intense smoke, out of which occasional flashes of purple and orange and blue kept leaping. Isaac quickly killed his momentum, and dove at the juggler, sweeping in at him from the side. Thomas turned his head, hearing the other moogle coming, and yelped, raising his knives. Isaac's blades met the shorter weapons as he collided with the white moogle, and then, suddenly, Thomas was falling over backwards, and Isaac was following him down.

The moogles hit the ground hard, Isaac on top. Before he knew what was happening, Thomas was grabbing onto the fabric of his shirt, and heaving him over, rolling to try and get on top of the other moogle. Realizing what was happening, Isaac rolled with him, trying to use his bulk to overbalance Thomas and keep him moving. The two of them rolled a short distance, slamming each other hard into the deck and occasionally making awkward slashes with their weapons, and in the confusion, Isaac lost his grip on the Avuir Red.

Abruptly, as Thomas was coming around on top, his hip slammed against the wood of the railing surrounding the ship. He let out a sharp yelp of pain, but didn't let it distract him. Using the wood as a brace, he raised one knife, grasping it in both paws, and drove it down at Isaac. The mogknight was still a bit surprised by their sudden halt, but he quickly released his grip on the Avuir Blue, which was caught awkwardly between their body weights, and raised both paws to grab onto the juggler's wrists. The knife's descent slowed down to a crawl, and the two moogles glared at each other, not even watching the knife as it shook with their struggles.

Both of the moogles were bleeding from new, small cuts and slashes now, the flow strengthening as the pair struggled with the knife. Thomas's right eye was even beginning to grow puffy from when Isaac had managed to slam the pommel of the Avuir Blue into his face. Both of them ignored the smaller injuries as the knife slowly descended, millimetre by agonizing millimetre. Thomas winced a few times as his hip gave off twinges from the impact with the railing, but he didn't let it distract him as he brought his weight to bear on the moogle beneath him.

Suddenly Isaac bit his lip, and narrowed his eyes. For an instant, his grip on the juggler's wrists weakened, and Thomas let out a grunt of victory as the knife slipped lower. A moment later, though, he cried out in pain as Isaac's knee came up and slammed against his injured hip. The mogknight instantly lunged forward as Thomas was distracted, pushing the juggler back. He drew a fist back, and then punched the white moogle square in the face, sending him reeling backwards.

The brown moogle rolled out from beneath the juggler, grabbing the Avuir Blue as he moved. He came back up to his feet, and faced Thomas with the blade clamped in both paws. Thomas was still pushing himself up to his feet, using the railing as a brace. When he saw Isaac looking at him, he growled, and his paw jerked forward, sending a knife at the brown moogle.

Isaac easily deflected the missile with his blade, and then stepped forward, closing with the juggler. The smoke in the air was burning his eyes, and he had to keep blinking to clear the tears from them. He swung out hard with the blade, knowing that Thomas didn't have the option to dodge anymore. Thomas tried to block with his remaining knife, but Isaac's brute strength and two-handed grip easily overcame his weak, one-handed hold on the hilt of the knife. The weapon slipped away, and clattered across the deck.

Thomas yelped, and tried to push himself away along the rail, but he stumbled, and fell to the deck. He landed heavily, but managed to get his hands underneath him. He was already beginning to push himself up when Isaac brought the point of the Avuir Blue forward, and slipped it down so that it was just touching against the juggler's throat.

The two of them stood there, their chests heaving for a few moments. Red stains were showing through each of their clothing in several places. From the combination of the intense combat and the heat of the nearby flames, sweat was plastering their fur down against their bodies. After several long moments of silence, Thomas finally spoke.

"Just do it." He nodded his head slightly down at the blade against his throat. "Go ahead, kupo."

"I'm not going to kill you, kupo."

"I saved your life, Isaac. The very least you can do is take mine when I ask you to."

"I don't have to kill you, Thomas. I'm not going to."

"If you don't, then the queen will just kill me anyways for failing to defeat you."

Isaac was about to respond, when an ear-splitting squeal rang out across the deck. Both moogles turned their heads to stare at the thickest part of the smoke, and the incredible blue and orange light coming out of the opacity. The smoke around that area was odd; it moved quickly, as though it was being blown about, and occasionally it separated in small chunks and scattered outwards. In a few moments, the smoke had cleared enough for the two moogles to see the cause of both the whistling and the odd smoke movement.

The two summoners were only a couple paces from each other. Much to both Isaac and Thomas's shock, Ifrit and Shiva were standing behind their respective summoners as opposed to hanging in the air above. Lindsay was standing with her arms raised and pointing towards the other summoner, and Ifrit was in a similar pose, an intense jet of fire pouring forth from his hands and the hammer. The flames spilt forward, and only just stopped short of the other viera. She was holding one arm out in front of her, and Shiva, in a similar pose, had wrapped the arm bearing her shield around the summoner, so that the shield was repelling the flames. Streams of fire and chunks of ice fanned out around the shield, dissipating off into the sky or scorching the deck. Steam was exploding outwards from the point of contact, and it was this that was causing the high-pitched whistling.

As the moogles watched, Lindsay took a staggering step forward, and Ifrit moved with her, bringing the intense fire even closer to the other summoner. Another step followed, and then another. Soon, Lindsay stood directly in front of the frosty shield. The summoner hiding behind it was staring, her eyes wide with shock.

Lindsay pushed her hand forward, and as she laid it against the shield, intense flames burst from her skin. They towered orange and red all around her, reaching up for metres. The squealing of the steam grew to earsplitting levels, and Isaac actually had to pull away from Thomas and clamp his paws over his ears to keep the sound out.

For a few long seconds, nothing happened; the steam continued gushing out from the point of contact between Lindsay's hand and Shiva's shield. Then, quite abruptly, her hand seemed to slip through the shield entirely, as though it weren't there at all. The other summoner only had a moment to cry out in surprise, before the flaming hand grabbed her throat.

For an instant, light flooded out from beneath Shiva's hunched form. Dimly, over all the whistling of steam, Isaac could make out a scream. Then, abruptly, it was over. The only sound was the crackling of flames all around them; the whistling and the scream had both cut out, and the light had dimmed. Isaac shook his head to clear it, then looked over at Lindsay again.

She was standing, her chest heaving, with Ifrit waiting obediently behind her. Shiva had disappeared, leaving only the few remaining chunks of thawing ice littering the deck as proof that she'd been there at all.

As for the other summoner, she was gone. All that remained of her was a long, black streak across the deck, spreading out from Lindsay's feet.

Lindsay took a long, deep breath, and held it. Slowly, the air around her stopped rippling with heat, and the flames jumping from around her feet went down. Ifrit's image shimmered for a moment, the great minotaur closing his eyes and lowering his head. Then, he was gone, leaving Lindsay alone where she stood on the deck.

She began turning slowly around, shaking her hands as she did so. Even from a distance, Isaac could see the burns from heat and electricity covering her clothes. His eyes widened as he noticed that all of the fingers on the hand that had grabbed the other summoner were black. At first he thought they were burnt, but after a moment, he realised with a sick feeling that the discolouration came from frostbite.

Lindsay looked about her distantly, as though only half-aware of the many fires all across the deck and the smoke that was thick about her. She nodded, and abruptly that purple fire reached up all around her again. She raised her hands in front of her, and the purple light concentrated, even as, abruptly, light exploded through one of the towering walls of flames on the far side of the deck, seeming to originate from the base of the mizzenmast.

The intense light collided with her, and threw her back against the ship's rail. She cried out, but held her stance, the purple fire sending the light scattering away from her in small bolts of electricity.

Isaac had to duck as a stray bolt of lightning flew dangerously close to him, the moogle stumbling away from the wave of hot air coming off of it. He cursed a bit, and then turned to face Thomas again, levelling the Avuir Blue. All he saw was a flash of white, and then the other moogle was hitting him full on in a limping tackle. Isaac fell back, caught entirely by surprise, and tried to get his blade up between them again.

Thomas moved too quickly, though. While his leg was bad, he was still close enough to Isaac to smash a knife against the blade's edge, holding the blue sword at bay as he slipped another knife forward and beneath the weapon.

Isaac's breath caught in his throat as he felt the point breaking the skin. He instinctively pulled back, falling away to try and minimize the damage. His feet stumbled on the deck as pain spread through his chest, and suddenly his back was colliding with the floorboards.

The moogle's free paw went up, and the fingers dragged along up his chest until they met the dagger still sticking out of him. He blinked in surprise; it was stuck about halfway to the hilt, looking like it was lodged between two of the ribs on the right side of his body. If he left it in and got back to Guinness or Eugene, they'd be able to help him. If they were still alive, that was.

He blinked again, and shook his head to clear it of those thoughts. For now, the shock was keeping him from feeling too much of the pain. He would have to use that.

Isaac started turning himself, thinking to roll onto his stomach so he could use his hands to push himself up to a standing position. Before he could, though, Thomas was on him again. Isaac instantly collapsed back to the deck as the white moogle pressed down on him; it was too dangerous for the mogknight to fight back with the dagger sticking out of him.

Thomas still held his other knife, and he reached down quickly, holding the blade to Isaac's throat. The juggler was panting heavily, the pain from his injured hip showing clearly on his face. "It's over, Isaac."

Isaac didn't reply for a few long moments. He was beginning to feel an odd, liquid pain spreading in his throat. It took him a couple seconds to realize it was blood, and couple more seconds after that to realize the dagger must have punctured one of his lungs. He breathed heavily, keeping his pale brown eyes locked on Thomas's blue ones. "If it's over, kupo, why haven't you finished me yet?"

Thomas opened his mouth, but no sound came out. A few seconds later, though, he was spared the difficulty of thinking of a reply. The light show already spreading across the deck from the lightning and Lindsay's magic seemed to dim, as suddenly a pulsating white light erupted from around Clan Nutsy's summoner.

Isaac and Thomas turned their heads awkwardly from their positions to stare, watching as the flames across the deck all seemed to pull away from the light, as though blown by a great wind. The light was intense enough, even during its softer pulses, that they couldn't make out Lindsay's form.

The light grew in intensity, enveloping more and more of the deck in its blinding whiteness, until finally both moogles had to look away, Thomas pulling the hand holding the knife to Isaac's throat away so that he could shield his eyes. With the whiteness came an odd quiet. The crackling of the flames all around them, the sounds of battle coming from the two ships, the spells being exchanged between the two crews, it all faded away.

Then, in the silent whiteness, there was the sound of Lindsay's voice, sharp and clear, calling out, "_Komm Madeen_."

And then the light all focused down, sharpening down into two blinding points. Lindsay's eyes burned with the whiteness, casting long, intense beams from themselves as she hung several feet above the deck. Her hair and the ragged remains of her cloak all flittered softly, as though being lifted by a breeze.

The two moogles' eyes were so drawn to the light in the viera's eyes that it took them a few moments to notice the great dragoness hanging in the air above her. It wasn't until Lindsay looked up, and the dragoness moved with her that they actually caught sight of it: a great blue wyrm, wearing a robe of some sort of sheer golden fabric. It trailed down along the creature's body, before seeming to simply fade away to nothing down below.

Lindsay raised one ragged and frostbitten hand, pointing out in the direction that the lightning had come from. Immediately, the fire parted before her in all directions, cutting a clear path towards the other summoner. To her credit, the other summoner had managed to keep her hold on Ramuh throughout the display. Now, however, her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open as she stared at Lindsay. Even from a distance, Isaac and Thomas could see that she was shaking.

"I've dreamed about you."

"Kupopo?" Thomas's head snapped back around to stare down at Isaac, caught off guard by the other moogle's voice.

"Over the past four years. There have always been four people I've dreamed about in my Third Eye visions, kupo." Isaac took a deep breath, making a haggard, rumbling sound as he did so. His voice was rougher as he kept speaking. "You said that I can keep fighting and making these decisions because I have something to fight for. Well at the very least, you have me, kupo."

"The Queen will still kill us, kupo!"

"At least we wouldn't be dying alone."

And then the two summoners started moving.

Lindsay went from being motionless to charging across the deck in an instant, leaving a trail of white light behind her as she moved. The great dragoness above her, Madeen, moved with the summoner, and the two of them thundered towards Ramuh and the other summoner.

The summoner, not knowing what else to do, raised her hands, pointing at Lindsay. Immediately, Ramuh brought his staff forward, and lightning erupted from its head. The electricity flooded forward with blinding speed, and collided headlong with Lindsay's charging form.

The summoner didn't even bother to try and block the energy this time. The lightning racked her body, drawing long, spindly burns across her skin and raising blisters. The energy tore out the other side, and rushed forward until it collided with the deck just a few feet away from Thomas and Isaac.

The floorboards exploded upwards where the energy collided with the deck. The force of the blast threw Thomas off from on top of Isaac, and Isaac himself was sent sliding across the deck.

The juggler managed to scramble and roll as he hit the deck, coming up to his feet and catching his breath. He glanced around for Isaac, and felt his heart jump into his throat as he saw the brown moogle slipping towards the edge of the deck, too weakened to actually halt his own momentum.

There was one long moment as he watched Isaac slipping between the wooden posts holding up the railing, even as Lindsay closed with the other summoner.

Then, Thomas dove forward, his chest sliding across the deck. Behind him, there was a roar as Madeen reared her head down, and an incredible white light flooded forth from her maw. Thomas hooked one hand onto one of the wooden posts to halt his own momentum, even as Ramuh's summoner screamed, the white light pouring over her and the base of the mast she was leaning against.

Thomas's paw flailed over the edge, half of his torso hanging over with it.

The white light shone in a perfect cone, the summoner's outline a simple kernel of black in the centre.

Thomas's fingers touched against something, and he darted his hand forward, clamping it shut.

That dark outline shimmered for a moment, before simply coming apart and fading to white amidst the blast.

And then, abruptly, the light faded. There were a few moments of odd stillness as the normal light of day seemed to take back over. After a few seconds, the flames all across the deck began crackling again, and the soft blowing of the wind could be heard.

Lindsay hung in the air in the middle of the ruined deck, her eyes shut and her face tight. At first, the wind and the sun had no effect on her; she was perfectly motionless, and there were no shadows on her, almost as if she was creating her own light. Then, her features relaxed, and her hair stirred with the wind. Gradually, she lowered, until her feet touched the wooden planking.

She let out a soft sigh, and then there was a thump as her body fell lifelessly to the deck.

The only people close enough to hear any of this noise, though, were too distracted to pay attention. Thomas was hanging halfway off the edge of the ship, his eyes closed and his breathing tight as he held onto the back of Isaac's shirt, his grip like a vice on the fabric. Isaac hung as dead weight from the other moogle's paw, too weakened and dazed from the stab wound to really react in any way. Thomas, too, was exhausted from their fight, and it was taking everything he had to not let go of either the mogknight or the wooden post keeping both of them from plummeting.

Then, there was a horrid groaning sound. Both moogles, as trained airship captains, tensed as they heard it. Isaac slowly glanced upwards at Thomas, giving him a resigned, questioning look. In reply, Thomas managed to turn his head and glance over his shoulder across the deck to where the groaning sound had come from.

His eyes fell upon the base of the mast on this section of the deck; the mast that Isaac had been targeting when he'd first boarded the Invincible, and the mast that Ramuh's summoner had been leaning against. There was a massive hole blown partway through its base; it wasn't jagged, and there were no burn marks of any sort. Just a perfectly round chunk missing from it.

"An interesting situation I find you in."

Thomas's eyes widened as the voice only he could hear spoke. He sucked in a sharp breath, and then gasped, "My Queen."

"Am I?" The juggler felt a dangerous twinge run through his mental connection with the monarch, and if his body's focus hadn't been entirely used up at that point, he would have shuddered. "You seem to be choosing a very odd way to show me your loyalty."

"It's not how it looks, kupo…" Thomas was finding it difficult to speak in anything more than short bursts; pain was starting to blossom in his armpits from holding up his and Isaac's combined weights.

"No? Then why don't you drop him? Eliminate the threat…"

Thomas took in a few more haggard breaths, and then closed his eyes. He focused on breathing, not wanting to waste his time giving his response.

"You do recall that you're only alive because of me, don't you? You owe me your life, Thomas." Her voice sounded soft through the mental connection; there was no anger there. It was almost a sense of… amused curiosity.

The juggler threw the terror of the moment off, and glanced down at Isaac again. The mogknight was still looking up at him, a look of confusion in his eyes as he no doubt wondered with whom the juggler was speaking.

"Kupo…" Thomas muttered, and he spoke, his voice almost resigned. "I'm not your dog anymore."

There was silence through the connection for what felt like an eternity. Then, the voice replied, "I'm disappointed. I may have to collect that debt of the life you owe me right now."

The juggler's eyes widened with terror. "You can't… even you couldn't… this far away…"

"Nothing too dramatic at this distance. But sometimes, all it takes is a little push…"

That groan sounded again, and Thomas's eyes darted back to the weakened mast. As Thomas watched, it swayed slightly, this time making a creaking noise. He panted hard, and found himself muttering under his breath, "No no no no no…"

There was a sharp gust of wind, accompanied by the soft sound of a woman's laughter. It blew all the way across the ship, from exactly opposite Isaac and Thomas's position. It caught in the weakened mast's sail, and tugged at the fabric.

Thomas took a shuddering breath, then closed his eyes. When he spoke again, he made sure his voice was loud. "Isaac. I need you to grab me, kupo."

"Thomas…?"

"Just hold onto me!" he snapped, and then flinched as he heard the telltale crunching of snapping wood. He felt Isaac shifting, and then the mogknight's paw found his. The juggler grabbed on hard as the cracking grew louder, and hoped that Isaac would be strong enough to hold up his own weight. As the mast began toppling over towards him, he closed his eyes, and squeezed on Isaac's paw.


	129. Quicken

"Eileen!"

Eugene's voice echoed in the Alchemist's ears as the world swam around her. There was a dull pain radiating from her forehead, and she felt heavy for some reason. She struggled to apply some context to her confusion, but found it difficult; her mind was sluggish, moving jerkily from thought to thought with little or no connection.

She heard Eugene's voice speak again, saying a soft, incomprehensible word. Immediately, a coolness rushed through the muted pain coming from her forehead. After a few moments, her vision cleared, the blur sharpening up. She blinked a few times, and then became aware that she was lying on her side, gasping for breath. She could just see a glow of white magic on the edges of her vision, and she shuddered. All around her, there was smoke, and she could feel waves of heat washing over her.

"Eileen, pull yourself together!" Eugene's voice was sharp in her ears, and the odd distant quality to it let her know that he was communicating with her magically. "I've given you as much healing as I can! Now I need you up and putting out these fires while Guinness and I reinforce our defensive spells. If Ultima chose you to wield its power, then you're stronger than this, so get _up_."

Eileen groaned, and then got her arms underneath her. Slowly, shakily, she pushed herself up, and looked around. Her eyes widened as she saw that she was still on the foredeck of _The Fallen Star II_, but that a good chunk of the deck had been blown away by a spell. Half of the railing facing _The Invincible_ was gone, along with a small crater spreading out from the edge. Flames were crackling on the deck, gradually spreading further.

Eileen licked her lips, then glanced up and over towards the crow's nest. She saw Eugene watching her from far above, waiting for a signal. She simply nodded up at him, and he nodded back, before turning away. She turned back to look at the deck, and reached up to rub sweat away from her forehead. Her sleeve came back coated with soot and blood. Eileen stared at the red streak across the fabric, then shook her head again.

"Back to it…"

She pushed herself up to her feet, and waited a few moments to regain her balance. Then, she raised her hands, and pointed them at the fire in front of her. She took a deep breath, and then murmured, "_Wasser_."

Immediately, Eileen felt that soft tug at her magical reserves, and then water was spurting out from her fingers. She controlled the flow, giving it less pressure and density than her normal attack spells. She closed her eyes, and guided the spell by instinct, smothering the flames as she pieced together what had happened.

She remembered watching Lindsay floating across the gap between the two ships, and the three other summoners arranging themselves on the opposite railing in wait for her. Then the spells had started firing, and there was yelling from both ships, and Eugene started saying something about the defences. Then, there had been a rush of flames, and she remembered intense heat as she was thrown back, and then darkness.

The Alchemist shook her head again, clearing it. She returned her focus to the water, and kept hosing down the flames that had already spread partway across the deck. As she worked, she kept an eye on the opposite ship, where the four summoners were having their battle. The looks were almost unnecessary, though; Eileen could feel the amount of magical energy running through the air, and just how much power was being expended by all four spellcasters.

"We need to detach those boarding ladders!" Eileen flicked her eyes over to the middeck as she heard Rolf's voice, bellowing above the crashes of magic coming from the enemy ship. He was holding a moogle back, deflecting knife blows skilfully with his blade. "If we don't pull away, those summoners are going to destroy both of the ships!"

"We can't pull away yet," Marche yelled back. He paused for a moment as he ducked under a swing from a tall bangaa, and then lunged forward, running the larger warrior through. He shoved the body towards one of the ladders, using its bulk to encumber those trying to climb down, and finally called back to Rolf, "Isaac and Lindsay are still over there! We aren't leaving them behind!"

"If we don't detach ourselves, then the winds are going to tear both of these ships apart, and then we die with them."

"We can get them back before—"

"It's not a debate," Rolf snapped. "Destroy those ladders. We're moving away _now_."

As he said it, the captain swept his blade out in front of him, slamming its edge into the moogle's knife. The smaller fighter stumbled, knocked off balance by the sharp blow, and the human lunged in, bringing his weapon back across in a blackslash. The moogle hit the deck hard, blood splattering away from him.

The captain turned away without another thought. He took a deep breath, focusing his eyes on the several ladders bridging the gap. Slowly, a yellow glow grew up around him; a soft fire flickering in the whipping wind.

The effects were immediate. Abruptly, the boarders on the ladders began crying out. Within a few seconds, several had tripped, and were tumbling over the edge. Even those safely on the deck of _The Fallen Star II_ began slipping and falling. The falls themselves didn't cause too much damage; however, the vulnerable positions left them perfectly open to quick finishing blows from the members of Clan Nutsy.

Within less than a minute of this, the deck was cleared, and everybody on the ladders had either fallen off, or were remaining motionless, trying to keep their balance on the apparently slippery surfaces.

Grans, Caitlin and Marche moved along the ladders, and with relative ease they began lifting them free and pushing the ladders over the edge. As soon as Grans dropped the last ladder, _The Fallen Star II_ began pulling away, the ship seeming sluggish now compared to its previous pace.

Once they were properly clear of _The Invincible_, Rolf gasped, and then stood back up, the yellow light fading from around him. He staggered for half of a step, before he managed to grab one of the banisters and steady himself. He glanced over to Tifone, who was still leaning heavily against the helm, and nodded.

The fencer nodded back, and then turned the helm hard, pulling them sharply away from the other ship. The members of Clan Nutsy all wandered over to the ship's banister, watching the flashes of light rising off of _The Invincible_.

Eileen walked over to the stairs leading down from her section of the deck, looking across the ship from that vantage point. She still shuddered occasionally with the flashes of magic, feeling the magnitude of power being discharged.

The alchemist could just make out Caitlin and Marche speaking down below, their voices hushed as they watched the incredible light show.

"We aren't leaving them behind. As soon as the battle's quieted down—"

"And how do we know either of them will still be alive once the battle's over? They're fighting a lot of people over there."

"I know, but we have to hope. Both of them are powerful; they'll pull through."

Caitlin took a deep breath, and shook her head. "This is what we were afraid of, Marche. Things are getting out of control."

Marche hesitated at that, his own uncertainty beginning to show through. At length, though, he said, "We knew it would be like this. It was either risking a gambit up here, or trying to fight our way through the Palace's entire army on the ground below. This is the best decision we could've made."

"And who're you trying to convince by saying that? You or me?"

Marche didn't answer that question. Instead, he kept his eyes trained straight ahead at _The Invincible_, watching the magical battle unfolding. Caitlin, apparently understanding, didn't press her leader, and instead focused her eyes forward as well, muttering, "The armies on the ground must be getting close to each other by now."

Marche nodded once. "All we need to do is defeat the Queen. As soon as we have, the fighting stops."

Caitlin looked as though she was about to reply when Eugene yelled down from the crow's nest.

"No time to rest! The rest of the fleet is closing with us!"

Everybody turned upon hearing that, looking to the rear of the ship. Eileen, too, began turning to look, but she stopped abruptly as she felt her eyes almost yanked back to the opposite ship. For an instant, it felt as though there was a deep breath being taken, like all the wind and the roaring of spells and the occasional echoing of thunder from the storm below them had decided to stop as one. Eileen's hands shook on the banister for that moment as she felt energy building up, magical power on par with some of the greatest she'd ever felt.

Then, she was throwing her eyes up over her face, crying out as white light exploded from the deck of _The Invincible_. All around her, she could hear similar exclamations of surprise and terror from the crew and the clan members. Eileen found herself taking a step back, the wave of magic almost feeling like an uncomfortable heat, like something she had to escape for fear of being caught by it and consumed.

However, as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving an unnatural stillness in its wake. Eileen pulled her hands away from her eyes, blinking from the intensity of the blast. Her veins were afire with the sensation of discharged magic, to the point where her hands were shaking. She could only stare, trying to see whether anybody was left after the massive discharge through the smoke and the flames.

All across the other decks of _The Invincible_, the startled crew members were picking themselves up from where they'd thrown themselves during the blast. One or two of them started heading towards the deck on which they'd left their captain, the three summoners, and the mysterious intruder to battle. Most, though, were too stunned to do much more than stare.

Eileen let her eyes wander over to that section of the deck, and scanned it, searching for any trace of life. She could only make out a single vierra, who seemed to be standing in the very centre of the deck. As Eileen watched, the figure gave a soft convulsion, and then fell to the deck. From that distance, Eileen couldn't hear the sound from her impact, nor could she see over the rail to tell whether or not she was moving. She didn't need either, though, to know that the viera was dead. At any other time, Eileen might have felt a pang, or maybe even have made the connection to the great blast of light. At current, though, she just looked away, searching the deck desperately.

A cold, gnawing feeling was beginning to build in her stomach when she caught sight of something by the banister. She glanced to it, and it took a few seconds before she could actually make out what it was. At first, it just looked like a few pieces of fabric were hanging from one of the banister's posts. That said, they seemed to have too much weight to them; the soft wind wasn't blowing them nearly as much as it ought to have. She stared for a bit longer, and finally saw that it was a white paw holding onto the bottom of the banister. Immediately, her brain caught up to the rest, and she realized that it was a white-furred moogle hanging off of the edge, holding a brown-furred moogle that dangled beneath.

It was as she came to this realization that Rolf's voice rang out over the deck. "The rest of the fleet is still closing with us! Everybody, prepare for combat!"

Eileen let her eyes linger on the two moogles, still trying to come up with a way to use her magic to help them. She knew that she didn't have anywhere near enough control to actually make much of a difference, though, especially at such a great distance.

Grinding her teeth, she finally looked towards the stern of the ship. She was surprised at how close the masts of the other ships looked; apparently their pursuers hadn't stopped at all during the magical discharge. There must have been at least thirty of the ships, by her count, all of varying sizes. In her mind, she tried to do the math. If she were fully charged, and able to get close enough to those ships to begin unleashing blasts of Ultima, she might be able to take down five. After that, though, she would be useless.

Eugene and Guinness were already exhausted. Tifone was too injured to be much use in a fight. Marche, Caitlin, Grans, Rolf and Vili might be able to hold the enemies back for a while, but there was no way that they could hold out against that many enemies. Clay and Cecilia were probably too busy repairing things to actually take part in combat. Perhaps if they could just take another ship without damaging it too much, they could use it to outrun the—

Eileen stiffened, and she glanced over to _The Invincible_ again. She'd felt… something. She wasn't sure what. There had definitely been a tug of magic, there, but it had been odd. The flow was weak and thin; so weak that she probably shouldn't have been able to feel it. But she could feel it. She could _definitely _feel it. For something so small, it was giving off a lot of disturbance.

As Eileen watched, the sails attached to the mast on the section of the deck Isaac was dangling from filled slowly with air. Then, abruptly, they billowed, and were tugged sharply. Eileen was unsure why, but the sight, combined with the feeling, sent a frightened shiver up her spine.

"Eileen, we need you on the stern!" Eugene sounded desperate in her ears. She was dimly aware of his and Guinness's magics beginning to flare up, preparing for battle. "You're the only one with enough range to start attacking them from here. Come on!"

Eileen didn't even turn her eyes away as she watched that mast, trying to figure out why it was that she felt uncomfortable. That's when she heard the first crack; a loud, low grumbling. She tensed again, and then checked the direction the mast was being pushed in. It took her only a moment to realize that if it snapped, it would be falling directly towards Isaac and the other moogle.

"Eileen!"

Slowly, as if she was moving underwater, the Alchemist turned to look over the stern again. The other ships were closer, now; soon enough, they would be within firing range for Black magic. She could feel Eugene and Guinness laying down extra protections, and reinforcing those that had been damaged during the summoners' battle on _The Invincible_. Despite how powerful the two mages were, though, Eileen knew that they stood no chance of putting up sufficient defences for the onslaught that would soon be incoming.

Another crack rang out.

"Get back here and help us, Eileen!"

The nu mou took in a deep breath, and Lindsay's words came back to her mind. A choice. Her choice.

She closed her eyes as the mast splintered further, and began plummeting towards the two moogles hanging from _The Invincible_. As her right hand came down to touch the ring on her left middle finger, lights leapt up from the enemy ships, and fire and lightning began racing towards _The Fallen Star II_'s stern.

Isaac would either be crushed or dropped to his death.

The crew and Clan Nutsy would be blown apart.

Eileen took a deep breath, and then twisted the ring, tugging softly at it. It slipped off of her finger, revealing the scar left from wearing the ring every day for four years. As it came off fully, she dropped it. Intense light shone in past her eyelids.

The ring fell towards the deck, spinning about in midair. An instant before it would have hit the wooden flooring, though, it abruptly stopped, and hung in the air.

* * *

"Thomas!" Isaac yelled, trying desperately to pull himself upwards. However, his wounds were too serious by this point; it was taking everything he had to just hold onto the other moogle. He wasn't even entirely sure what was happening; all he knew was that there was a loud crunching sound coming from the deck up above, and Thomas wasn't answering it. The wind billowed around him as he tried reaching up with his other paw to get a better hold of the juggler. However, his hands were already shaky enough as they were; he could barely even get his fingers to brush against the fabric of Thomas's shirt.

And then, abruptly, everything stopped. It was odd; the roaring of the wind and the constant pressure it was putting on him and Thomas, rocking them around from their dangling position, halted. They swung back and forth once or twice with their remaining momentum, but soon their movement stilled.

After several seconds, Isaac spoke, his voice deafening through the silence, "Thomas?"

At first, Thomas didn't reply, and Isaac was afraid that for whatever reason, the juggler had been frozen along with the wind. Just as he was about to ask again, though, Thomas piped up. "What the hell."

"Can you pull us up, kupo?"

Thomas gave a wheezing laugh, the vibrations causing Isaac to sway a bit. "As if. Isaac, you've put on weight, kupo."

Isaac shook his head, and was about to reply, but the sound died in his throat as he felt something. His ears twitched, and his head jerked around almost on its own. Up above, Thomas must have felt him tensing, because the juggler called down, "Isaac? What's wrong?"

Isaac couldn't reply, though. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was hanging partially open as he stared. He was watching the deck of _The Fallen Star II_, now several hundred metres away. From the front deck, an odd distortion of light was radiating out across the sky. For the first few seconds of staring at it, Isaac just felt plain confused, not quite grasping what the movement through the air was. As he kept watching, though, pale shafts of different coloured light began flowing in to join the distortion, and the moogle suddenly realized that it reminded him of a swirling vortex, tugging the light in to a specific point.

It came as quite a surprise when Isaac flicked his eyes across the deck, and he saw the several forms assembled there. From this distance, he could just make out who some of them were; the two broad-shouldered humans by the banister must have been Marche and Caitlin, and the stooped figure next to them was without a doubt Grans. This was not the surprising part, though; what was odd was the way that none of them were moving. He would have expected them to be turning and looking at the mass of light on the foredeck of their ship, or either backing away or rushing forward to deal with it. Instead, though, they were perfectly motionless, almost as though they had been frozen in place.

Slowly, Isaac's eyes scanned over the deck, picking out all of the individual shapes. As he did, he noticed something else very odd; at two points on the deck, there were pale shafts of light rising up and flowing into the swirling vortex. One was a very faint shaft of yellow that he could barely make out, and another was a brilliant white glow tinged with odd hints of blackness. Each of them flared out from their points of origin before tapering down to a more manageable beam of light.

Isaac stared openly at these, not understanding, until his eyes flicked up to the crow's nest. There, there was another beam of light feeding into the vortex, this one mixed with equal parts white and pale blue light. In the back of his mind, Isaac identified those two colours as the colours of Eugene's magic, and he quickly made the connection that it would be Eugene sitting up in the crow's nest. After that, it didn't take long for him to recall that white and black were the colours of Guinness's magic, and that yellow was the colour of the illusionary magic that Rolf sometimes used.

"Magic," he whispered, suddenly understanding what the lights were and what was happening at the foredeck of the ship. For whatever reason, all of the nearby mages' magical energies were flowing to that one spot and gathering there. As Isaac kept watching, more and more shafts of light began joining in with the vortex, some of them flowing off of the rear decks of _The Invincible_, and many more coming from the dozens of ships that had been closing with _The Fallen Star II_. Soon, there were even shafts of light cutting up through the storm clouds below to join in with the growing vortex.

In less than a minute, the light was flooding in from all directions, lancing out of the clouds below to congregate on the deck of the _Fallen Star II_. The central nexus was too bright for Isaac to look at directly; he could only look at it from the corners of his eyes. Even when he did, the swirling, multi-coloured lights made him feel dizzy, and he had to keep reminding himself to hold tightly to Thomas's paw as he found his head spinning.

Then, abruptly, the light, which had been simply a confusing swirl of colour, separated out into ten distinct shades, each one seeming to occupy one portion of a gigantic decagon surrounding _The Fallen Star II_'s foredeck. After a few moments, Isaac began mouthing the different colours to himself. "Black… white… red… blue… purple… yellow… gold… orange… light blue… green." Towards the centre of the shape, all of the colours mixed together into a muddy greyish brown, completely obscuring anything that might have been there.

Within a few more seconds, though, the colours had all sorted themselves properly. For a moment, they held together in their shape around that central point. Then, each colour flowed out to a distinct spot, forming the points of a circle. For an instant, each of the ten points burned with intense light, almost blinding in their intensity.

Then, quite suddenly, the glowing stopped. Isaac blinked, pulling his paw away from his eyes. He waited for the spots to clear from his vision, then looked back towards that far deck. What he saw made him almost let go of Thomas's wrist.

Where the ten points of light had been, there were now ten distinct crystals, each one smouldering softly with a different colour as they hung weightlessly. Aside from the flickering of the lights coming from their cores, the crystals didn't move at all, simply casting their pale glow across the area.

It was as Isaac was looking from crystal to crystal that his eyes finally made out the figure standing at the centre of the ring of crystals. The moogle's breath caught in his throat as he watched her shaking herself out slightly, and then looking up. He didn't move, barely even breathing as she took a step forward and the crystals all moved with her, maintaining a perfect circle with her as the centre. She walked over to the banister, and in the silence, the two moogles could hear her footsteps all the way from their position.

Then, she stepped over the edge of the banister, and began walking across the air towards them. There was no sudden flash of magic, no displacement of energy around her as she did so. She simply walked across as though it were solid ground.

Isaac and Thomas stared as she drew closer, and finally left their range of vision as she stepped onto the deck of _The Invincible_. The two hung in silence for several moments, and then, abruptly, Isaac felt Thomas jerk. Then, the two of them began rising upwards, slowly. As soon as he could, Thomas scrabbled up onto the deck above, and turned around, crouching down to grab Isaac with both paws. Isaac could only stare as a third hand came down and grabbed onto his shirt, and he was lifted up onto the deck.

As soon as the mog knight was up on the deck proper, Thomas rolled him over onto his back, and began checking all his wounds. However, the juggler stopped when a hand came down on his shoulder, and he glanced back and upwards. He stood up and stepped out of the way, and then, suddenly, Eileen leaned in over Isaac's vision.

There was a long moment as the two stared at each other. Then, she knelt down next to him, and pressed her palm against his hand. Out of the corner of Isaac's eye, he saw a flash of white light. Then, abruptly, the light flowed in and over Eileen, before gathering in her palm. Immediately, a cool, soothing feeling washed through Isaac's entire body, and he felt all of the injuries he'd gotten over the past few battles disappearing, and the tiredness lifting from his bones. By the time the light had faded, Isaac felt perfectly healthy, almost as if he'd just woken up from a nap.

He sat up quickly, and Eileen backed up, still on her knees. Thomas stood several metres away from them, staring up at something. Isaac turned to see what he was looking at, and the mogknight's breath caught in his throat.

The mast that had been attached to this section of the deck had snapped free of its supports, and appeared to have fallen. However, it now hung in position, falling over towards where he and Thomas had been hanging. It could only be a few metres from colliding from the deck, the sails frozen midway through massive billows of air, and the ropes all stuck in whipcracking positions.

Isaac licked his lips, and then stared over at Eileen. "What's going on, kupo?"

Eileen didn't reply for a moment. Then, she simply said, "I'm Ultima's avatar."

She raised her left hand, and Isaac blinked, noticing that the ring she'd worn for the past several years was gone. He stared at the scar where the ring had been, and he stammered, "But how…"

"I just stole all of the magic from every mage in a five mile radius, Isaac," Eileen replied. When Isaac's eyes widened, she gestured towards the ten crystals hanging in the air around them. He looked at each one in turn, and then turned back to her.

"So… so this was your plan all along, kupo? You were going to use this when you got to Ambervale and completely annihilate Maxwell and the Queen?"

Eileen nodded slowly. Then, she looked over to Thomas, who was still staring up at the collapsing mast. She looked on in silence for a few seconds, before she demanded, "Thomas? Weren't you dead?"

"I've been getting that a lot lately," the moogle replied absently, beginning to slowly walk away to look at the mast from another angle.

"So that means…" Eileen's eyes widened, and she stepped over closer to the juggler. "The Queen can actually revive the dead?"

"Revive the dead, kupo?" the juggler demanded incredulously. "No, of course not."

Both Isaac and Eileen faltered at that, glancing to each other. It was Isaac who asked, "Then how are you alive?"

"When Maxwell threw me off the side of the tower, I didn't die," Thomas explained, seemingly unaware of the other two's shock. "I almost did, but not quite. After the assassination attempt on Mewt, the Palace and the Prison sent out dozens of search parties, trying to find out what had happened. When they found me at the bottom of the tower that the shot had come from, they decided to take me in for questioning. They brought me to the Queen, and she healed me. I barely even knew what was happening at that point, but she explained everything after I'd woken. I told her everything I knew, and then…" He stopped inspecting the mast for a moment. Then, he whispered, "She gave me the oddest look, and she asked if I wanted a position with the Palace. I told her that I'd already worked for them one time before, and that I didn't feel like doing it again. And then she…" He fell quiet. "She just pointed at me, and the stab wound that Maxwell had given me opened again. She let me bleed out until I was almost dead, and then she closed it. Once I was breathing normally, she opened it again, and…" He glanced away. "She kept that up for ten minutes, and then asked again if I would join."

Isaac and Eileen both stared at him as he finished. He didn't have to say that he'd agreed. At length, he glanced over at them again, meeting their eyes.

"That said… now that I've helped Isaac, I'm as good as dead anyways. If you guys don't defeat her, then she'll come for me, and she'll…" He paused. "I don't think I'll survive if I have to face her head on. I'll try, though."

Isaac nodded at that, and then glanced over to Eileen. "So, all we have to do is get you to Ambervale before Ultima's power runs out, and then we can take them down."

"It doesn't work like that, Isaac." The moogle glanced over at Eileen as she spoke, her voice quiet. She hesitated for a second, and then went on. "Isaac, I'm channelling more magic right now than any mortal being has ever had control over. Right now, I'm fine because I'm using all of the Time magic to stop everything, but…" She licked her lips. "As soon as I unfreeze time, all of this energy is going to start tearing me apart. I'll use the White magic to hold myself together as long as possible, but… this is going to kill me, Isaac."

All three of them were perfectly silent as she said that. Neither Isaac or Eileen moved, both of them simply standing and staring at each other. Thomas remained several feet away from both of them, looking from one to the other uncomfortably.

"Why?"

"…I've lost you too many times now, Isaac. I couldn't do it again."

Isaac was silent for a few long moments. Then, he pushed onwards. "So what's the plan?"

Eileen held Isaac's eyes with her own for a few moments. Then, she turned and glanced at Thomas. "I'm going to drop you from the time freeze."

Thomas opened his mouth to reply, and then froze in position, his chest not even rising for breath. Once Eileen was sure that the moogle had reentered the normal flow of time, she turned and faced Isaac again.

"I know you've got a plan for Maxwell."

"I do, kupo."

"Good." Eileen took a deep breath. "I'm responsible for much of what's happening right now. Don't argue; you don't know everything. I pushed Nutsy to choose such an aggressive course of action, and I almost killed a lot of people. But, worst of all…" She hesitated another moment. "I've known. All along, I've known what's been going on. I told you last year, but I didn't go into much detail. While you were off finding the Avuir blades with Lini, I found Ultima's resting place, and I communicated directly with It. That's when It told me about us being the avatars, and about much more. Firstly, It told me that none of us would fall but to each other's weapons; I've known from the start that whenever one of us is struck down, it can only be caused by another one of us.

"More than that, It said that each of us, along with the power promised to us whenever we unleashed our totema, would receive both a gift and a curse. Jacqueline's gift was to fall first and thus with innocence, but her curse was to cause the breaking of Ivalice. Ben's gift was to remain human for as long as possible, but his curse was the loss of himself. Maxwell's gift… well, originally, his gift was to control the events happening, and his curse was to be forced into the impossible situations. Of course, the Queen managed to corrupt that, and now even his gift has become a curse. My gift… my gift has been to know everything that's happening, but my curse has been to have to sit by and watch and hold back until I decide to let go."

Isaac nodded slowly as she finished, and then whispered, "So, this is it, then? This is when you've decided to let go, kupo?"

"…yes."

"Why now?"

"Because I know that if I saved this power and went to battle Maxwell and the Queen with it, I could win this war in a heartbeat. If I had, though…" She glanced away from him, refusing to meet his eyes as she finished, "If I had chosen to do that, then I wouldn't have been doing it for anybody. I can kill Maxwell; I can't save him, though. You're the only person who could do that. Your gift and your curse—"

"Don't, kupo." Isaac glanced down, and then back up at Eileen. "Don't tell me. If I go to fight Maxwell, this time it's not because of a prophecy, or because of my role in this world, or whatever power I've been given. This time, when I fight him, I'm doing it as myself, and I'm doing it because it's my decision."

"And that's why you have to go forward, Isaac," Eileen explained, nodding. "You can make that decision. I can't anymore. I'm not strong enough."

Isaac bit his lip at that. Then, he actually turned away from her, and began walking across the deck, putting more distance between the two of them. She was about to follow him, when he spoke. "…if you're going to die now…" The moogle swallowed, and a full body shudder rocked him. He looked, for a moment, like he was gathering his courage, drawing himself up in preparation. Then, abruptly, he deflated again, and muttered, "I guess I can respect that, kupo. This is your decision."

Eileen watched him for several long seconds. Then, finally, she shook her head, and stepped over to him. As she approached, he glanced back at her curiously. She didn't speak, though, instead reaching down and taking his shoulders. She turned him so that they were facing each other squarely.

Then, Eileen leaned in, and she pressed her lips against his.

Isaac's body went rigid with surprise, and for the first several seconds, he made no move to return the action. Finally, though, he pressed back into the kiss, clenching his eyes tightly shut.

At length, Eileen pulled away, and held his shoulders at arm's length, looking down at him.

"How was that?"

Isaac licked his dry lips. "Kupo."

The nu mou nodded slowly. Then, she stammered, "In this world… things didn't…" She stopped. "Last year, after the battle for New Cyril, when you almost died and Guinness was healing you… I thought I was losing you. It wasn't like it usually is, where I know it's a possibility that you might not come back. This time, I knew that you were helpless, and even worse, I knew that I couldn't help you. Grans waited with me while they were working on you, and she said…" The nu mou grinned slightly, looking a bit distracted. "She told me that there was nothing I could do to help your body heal. That said, she did say that both of us could, and should, help each other in other ways. I knew she was right; the idea of losing you forever was just… But I didn't do anything."

Isaac broke in, here, speaking quickly, "But… but you were still getting over Quin, kupo! And with the war—"

"The war changes _nothing_, Isaac. I missed Quin… I still miss him. But he never would have wanted me to stop living because of his death. And I can't help thinking… My life over the past year would have been much happier if I'd been willing to take a chance with you."

Isaac stared up at her throughout all of her words, not entirely sure how to react. Then, slowly, he looked down, before glancing back up at her. "So… is this an invitation to ask you out when we get back to St Ivalice, kupo?"

She laughed at that, and Isaac smirked back. Shaking her head, she said, "Yes. Please, feel free to awkwardly dance around the subject until you work up your courage to ask. I'm sure it'll be adorable."

"Hey, I'll have you know tat I'm not as awkward as I used to be! I've got experience now, kupo."

Eileen snorted at that. "Right. I have no doubt about who wore the pants in yours and Lini's relationship."

Isaac gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Well, now you're never getting a date with me. I have standards, you know."

The two grinned at each other. Then, slowly, Eileen pulled Isaac in close against her, hugging him tightly. Isaac returned the hug, closing his eyes so he could ignore the frozen scenes of battle around him.

"…no matter what ends up happening, in these battles or in any relationship we end up having in St Ivalice, please remember that I love you, Isaac."

She felt his body shake once in her hands. Then, he said quickly, his voice hoarse, "And no matter what you think you've done, and what you might have done, I love you too, Eileen."

The nu mou nodded slowly. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, kupo. Let's finish this."

The two of them kissed again, softly. As the two of them broke it, they laid their foreheads together, and Eileen murmured, "Goodbye, Isaac."

Then, she stepped away from him, and turned to face the frozen mast. She took a deep breath. "I'll give you guys a tailwind, but you and Thomas will have to land the ship yourselves. Can you do that?"

Isaac nodded, not speaking as he watched her. He was drinking her in, trying to remember her as she looked at that moment; wearing all of that fierce confidence that she used to demand respect. In that moment, as he was watching her, he told himself that he would not fail. He would win Maxwell back, and together, they would go back to St Ivalice.

"Let's do this, kupo."

Eileen nodded back, very slowly. Then, she looked up at the frozen mast again. She carefully raised both hands, and held them, palms out, towards the mast.

The pale blue crystal flashed with light again, and sound and movement came crashing in around them.

* * *

A/N: …so. It's been a while.

As always, I'm sorry about how late this chapter is. Really, I have no excuse this time. I've been lazy. I've had some crazy adventures while writing this chapter (going for a 6 week canoe trip with 200 other people), and I'll be having some more big adventures soon (visiting France, living in Russia). Through all that, though, I should make it clear that I am going to finish this story. I have no intention of giving it up, even if I've been unacceptably slow lately.

Thank you again to all of you for sticking with me.


	130. Ultima

As the pale blue light pulsed out, sound came crashing in around Isaac and Eileen. A moment later, the mast began plummeting, directly down towards Eileen.

The nu mou simply closed her eyes, and one of the crystals circling her flickered with black light. Her fingers twitched, and then Isaac had to turn away and cover his eyes as intense flames leapt out. He took a pained step back, and the heat washed over him, accompanied by a deafening roar as the side of his face was scalded until it felt raw.

When the sound finally died down, Isaac pulled his paws away from his face, and could only stare. The mast was gone; all that remained of it were a few cinders, blowing in the wind. Isaac stared at it for a moment, until he heard a voice cursing. He turned, and saw that Thomas was moving again, staring up at where the massive piece of wood had been.

Isaac turned back to look at Eileen, but she was already gone. He looked about in confusion, until he heard people yelling from the deck of the distant _Fallen Star II_. He looked over just in time to see an incredible flash of white light. Then, there was a roaring as a massive screen of white lifted up behind the ship, and dozens of attack spells slammed into its surface, bouncing off and either dissipating in the sky or getting lost among the clouds.

A cry went up from the dozens of ships trailing the _Fallen Star II _and _The Invincible_, and a number of the captains of the ships began ordering their mages to fire again. Those mages that did attempt to send more volleys at the _Fallen Star II_ immediately found themselves gasping for breath, as all at once they all realised that their magic had been drained.

Other ships, though, took a much more direct approach. They began angling their sails and turning to try and pull around to _The Fallen Star II_'s sides. Several of the crews were already preparing their boarding ladders, and archers were gathering on the upper decks. Even as they began flanking the ship, though, a blinding flash of orange rose up from the stern of _The Fallen Star II_. For a few seconds, nothing happened, and Isaac watched in tense silence. He wasn't even sure if it was possible for Eileen to miscast a spell in this state… something had to be…

A massive lump of burning rock plummeted from the sky, and smashed into one of the ships, severing its mainsail at the base. There was shocked silence for a few moments; the ship that had been hit was large enough to have at least a few protective spells up. It must have had _something _in place that could block a single meteor spell…

All of the questioning ended as seconds later, another meteor plummeted down and snapped the sail off of another ship. This caused many people to look upwards, which led to voices crying out on each of the attacking ships. Meteors were falling: dozens of them. They dropped with pinpoint accuracy, each one taking out a mast on a different ship. Within moments, the entire attacking group was crippled for movement: they couldn't rely on the wind to carry them forward, and none of their mages could cast any spells to push their ships any further.

At the same time, as the rest of the Palace's ships were being assaulted, a soft wind picked up all across _The Invincible_'s deck. Isaac started, then glanced over to Thomas as he recalled Eileen's words.

"We have to land the ship," he said quickly, glancing around at the deck. Thomas followed his gaze, and both of them swallowed at the fires that were still active all across their section of the deck. The summoners' battle had torn the planking up in places, and here and there were massive holes punched directly into the hull.

"Alright…" Thomas took a deep breath, and Isaac glanced back to him. "You head below decks and take over in the engine room. You keep us level, and I'll land us, kupo." The white moogle paused for a moment, then glanced over the edge of the ship to the storm clouds only a few dozen metres below them. "I hope she's got some sort of a plan for dealing with those…"

"Let Eileen worry about that, kupo," Isaac said sharply. "We have a heavily damaged ship and a strong tailwind. Be a captain."

Thomas nodded very slowly. Then, he glanced over at the brown moogle, and muttered, "Get belowdeck."

Isaac grinned, and then the two of them ran to the stairs leading to the lower deck. As soon as they reached the stairs, Thomas began bellowing orders, and the crew jumped to obey them. Isaac passed through them unnoticed amongst all of the activity, and soon he reached the stairs that led into the hull. He stopped as he reached them, though, and cast one last, regretful look over the railing towards the _Fallen Star II_. The light of Eileen's magic was nearly blinding, even at this distance.

He swallowed. Then, he turned, and ran into the hull, following his ears towards the engine room.

Eileen let her gaze wander over the ships, her expression grim and determined as she tried to ignore a growing ache in her chest. All of the crews were scurrying to either extinguish small left over fires, or to cut away remaining sections of the masts. She watched just long enough to make sure that none of them would actually flip over, and then she turned away, glancing down at the storm clouds beneath.

She tensed suddenly, and brought a hand up to clutch at her chest as a sharp pain shot through it. Her forehead creased, and one of the crystals flashed with white light. The pain immediately faded back, and she caught her breath. When she could stand up straight again she refocused her eyes.

"Well…" she murmured, "I've done as much as I can do for Isaac and Marche…"

She nodded to herself, and then gave a small flick of her hand. One of the crystals floating around her pulsed with golden light, and she closed her eyes as a wind picked up in the air around her. It tugged softly at her robes, causing them to billow out around her. She felt the thick tendrils of her hair being pulled slightly with the force, and the hat on her head shifting. Slowly, she tilted her head forward, and she felt the hat falling free. She grinned as she felt the wind blowing freely through her hair. She'd worked for years to get that hat; the hat of an Alchemist. Even in her wildest dreams, she hadn't expected that she would end up wearing the hat of a Greatspell. Now, though, it didn't seem all that important.

She chuckled to herself. "Oh crap. I'm having an end of life moment of clarity." The nu mou shook her head, and then opened her eyes. The gold light was still pulsing, and through her magic, she could feel the energy in the wind around her, slowly circulating in a massive, yet strangely slow tornado.

Eileen casually pulled up her sleeves to her elbows, and shook out her hands. Then, abruptly, she brought both of them down, palms facing the clouds, and flexed her fingers sharply.

The wind around her kicked up to a roar, and then flowed downwards. The clouds below immediately bowed downward, before splitting beneath the force of the wind. As soon as a hole had been bored all the way through the thick layer of puffy clouds, she spread her hands out wide, and the wind whipped outwards. The hole spread, and within moments, the great thunderstorm that had been ravaging the airship battle below was gone, its clouds having been dispersed into a number of much smaller storms bordering the battleground.

Eileen's eyes widened slightly as the clouds were peeled away and the carnage from the battle underneath was revealed. By this point, the battle below had been raging for close to two hours. The storm raging around the ships had been both a blessing and a curse; it had made conditions difficult, and so the ships' crews hadn't been able to fight quite as effectively as they normally would. However, those difficult conditions also made the entire situation much more dangerous. Many ships had massive, flame-lined holes punched through them, the damage from which were far too great for them to have come from magical lightning. As well, a number of masts had snapped, or sails had been torn apart by the great force of the winds.

Eileen fixed her gaze on all of this, and then nodded to herself. She let out another pulse of white light, quelling the growing pain that was spreading further through her chest. Then, she glanced to one of the crystals surrounding her, and it immediately flooded with yellow light.

An odd, subtle ripple ran through the air below her. It was hardly noticeable to anybody that wasn't watching for it: just a slight distortion in the light. As it rolled across the sky, though, things changed. Each time that the shift in the light rolled over one of the ships, the crew on it would blink, and begin looking around. On the ships where there was fighting, all of the combatants abruptly stopped their actions, and a few actually stumbled or fell over as they found their strikes landing on empty air.

Eileen was tense throughout all of this, watching the effects on everybody. As she watched the ships, she paid close attention to those who were simply staring around in confusion and, more importantly, those who started squinting. True; she'd drained all of the magical energy from all of the mages in both fleets, but spellcasters still had an intuitive ability to perceive illusions for what they truly were. If any of them noticed what was happening, they would alert their crew, and then that would be one more ship for Eileen to deal with.

Once she started noticing the squinting, she closed her eyes. The yellow crystal was still blazing, and as she concentrated, a second crystal lit up with red light. For a moment, it burned on its own; then, it sent out two shafts of red light; one to the yellow crystal, and another to a third crystal. This third crystal pulsed with red light for a moment, before erupting into a vibrant green.

Eileen began pointing down at each of the people she saw squinting, and each time she pointed, the green crystal would pulse with light for a moment. As soon as she did, dust would leap up from floorboards beneath the person in question, and then dive in towards their eyes. Eileen watched as they all clutched at their eyes and cried out, falling back to the deck in many cases from the stinging pain.

However, despite Eileen's best attempts, she couldn't stop every mage from noticing. After a few moments, she noticed a few ships moving again, all of the crews on them blinking and shaking their heads as they tried to clear their minds of the illusion. She gritted her teeth as they came in, going through her options in her head. There looked to be over a dozen ships in all, all of them getting their weapons prepared.

At last, Eileen sighed, and then the yellow light pulsed again. The ships still under the effect of her illusion all looked up attentively for a few moments. They each looked confused for a few seconds, and she noticed arguments break out on a couple decks. Soon, though, all of them were getting to their riggings, and turning their ships to retreat; the ships with the red and blue flags to Baguba, and the Palace's forces to Bervenia.

Once these were gone, she checked on the fourteen remaining ships. They had formed up into their respective groups. There were a few more Palace ships than rebels, but Eileen ignored that as the clouds finally parted all the way down, revealing the earth. She could just make out the two ground armies surging towards each other.

They couldn't be more than a kilometre apart from each other by now. Both armies numbered in the tens of thousands by this point, and Eileen knew well that these weren't average soldiers. The rebellion's army was comprised of all of Clan Nutsy's reserve forces, ferocious warriors from the Red Dragons, and many powerful mages from Cadoan, not to mention the thousands of clanners they'd released from the prison a year earlier. The Palace had hired dozens of rogue clans and rounded up legions and legions of monsters for the battle, along with mustering all of its significant forces.

Eileen glanced back up at the ships. They were beginning to move again, heading towards each other.

She sighed, and shook her head. She'd wanted to handle this nicely using the illusion.

The three glowing crystals all went out at once. She siphoned another flow of magic from the white crystal, and the pain in her chest lessened slightly, just enough for her to concentrate.

Finally, she flicked her fingers out, and purple light exploded from one of the crystals. Immediately, Eileen bent over, crying out as a pit opened up in her stomach. All of her energy began siphoning way into that pit, and it seemed to flow out from there and into the air around her. It manifested itself as the expected purple flames, but these felt different from the orange ones that she was used to. When her own magic manifested, she could control and harness it; it was her own, and it filled her with confidence. This energy, though… it was different. When she reached for it, she could still feel it. However, it seemed to resist her touch, not flowing where she told it. She could feel all of it jumping around, trying to flow off in one direction or another.

The sheer magnitude of the power all around her was incredible; it almost reminded her of Ultima. However, Ultima was always focused energy; this, by contrast, was loose and wild, just waiting to be unleashed. Unlike with the other new types of magic she'd been tapping with her new power, the way to employ this power seemed far less defined. It kept reaching down odd paths all around her, calling to great wells of energy somewhere at the end of those paths. For a few moments, Eileen simply felt along each of the paths, getting a feeling for what waited at the end of them. Eventually, though, she found one path; one that she could barely even feel, and that the magical energy itself was barely even reaching for. It was like trying to find the entrance to a grown over deer trail when surrounded by well maintained trailheads. That said, as she felt along the flimsy connection, a grin slowly formed across her face. Yes… yes, that could do.

She closed her eyes for a moment to let the image in her head crystallize fully, and the purple light flared outwards as she growled, "_Komm Bahamut!_"

Far below, about midway between the two groups of ships advancing of each other, there was a sudden explosion of purple light. Flames lanced out from a central kernel of dark purple, for the first few seconds seeming to spill out in random gushes. All of the ships pulled up short immediately, none of them willing to test the odd nexus of purple fire.

Then, abruptly, the gushes of fire changed; they began moving in definite, certain arcs, leaving bright purple outlines in their place. The purple fire quickly drew a massive outline of some sort, and then began filling it in with details, slowly pushing out the flat image. In very little time, the shape became easily recognizable as a dragon. The purple light rushed over the form, giving it more and more definition, and soon a gleam began showing from it. It wasn't the normal gleam of magic, either; it was an odd reflectivity appearing along the surfaces.

And then, abruptly, the outline, drawn entirely in purple, moved. It looked all around for a few moments, before turning its gaze up at Eileen. The nu mou, staring down at it, suddenly felt a surge of power running through her, undercutting the growing pain in her chest. She felt the line of pure energy, invisible to everybody else, connecting her to the great beast below. Its glowing purple eyes narrowed at her, and she nodded back.

The nu mou whipped her hand out a bit, and then growled, "Let's do this."

Immediately, the great dragon below gave a great shake. The purple light seemed to shed away from it, leaving in its place a body of chorded muscle and thick, impenetrable scales, all carved out of solid platinum. The creature's head reared back, and its eyes were suddenly burning with yellow light, so intense that they left trails of light in the vision of all those who saw them.

Bahamut, the Platinum King of Dragons slowly turned around in the air, its massive wings beating to keep it aloft. It gave a few harder flaps, and then lifted up several dozen meters higher, glaring down at the two groups of ships.

There was silence but for the dragon's wingbeats for several long moments. Bahamut was probably about twice the size of _The Invincible_, and gusts of wind caused by those immense wings were enough to push the watching ships back a bit. Aside from that, though, none of them were moving, and far below, both of the ground armies were holding their positions. All eyes were on the great creature hanging in the air, waiting to see how it would move.

Eileen waited probably a good half a minute for something to happen. When it didn't, though, and the pain in her chest was making her annoyed and impatient, she sighed, and gave a small flick of her wrist. Immediately, down below her, Bahamut's mouth opened, a low, explosive growl escaped. Even from where she was, Eileen could feel the vibrations from the sound.

The effect was immediate. All of the ships below pulled back, and then began turning away to retreat. Eileen let a long breath out, but then tensed, grabbing at her chest again. She winced, biting her lip, and forced more white magic out from its crystal. It flooded over to her, and the pain began easing. It didn't fade away completely this time, though, and as she finished, a hard spasm rocked her body.

She coughed, and then raised a hand up to her face so she could look at it. The nu mou felt a chill as she saw that the fur there had turned a darker shade of grey, and that her pelt was getting thinner.

"Not much time left…" she murmured to herself, her voice hoarse. She'd have to finish this up quickly. She glanced up and over to the retreating _Fallen Star II_ and _The Invincible_, seeing that both of them had moved quite some distance since her initial onslaught against the ships chasing them. She noticed that _The Invincible_, though, was much lower than it had been, and it was dipping lowly. It wasn't at an alarming rate, but it was certainly faster than it ought to have been.

She took another deep breath, a slight rough burning coming up in her chest with the action.

"You can do this, Isaac. Thomas and Maxwell are still here. You can do this."

Then, she closed her eyes, and purple light flared from her. Immediately, she stopped floating, and began plummeting down towards the ground. At the same time, Bahamut reared its head back, and then dove, tucking its massive wings in against its sides. The great creature screamed down towards the ground, the sound of all the air it was displacing causing a deafening roar to ring out all across the rocky plateau below.

The two armies each recoiled, and then began pulling back, neither one sure who the dragon meant to attack. Soon, there was a good kilometre of distance between them.

As soon as Eileen saw that they were far enough apart, she pulled up short, hanging in the air. In perfect unison, Bahamut's wings flared out and caught the wind, filling with air as it halted its descent. Before anybody could react, both nu mou and dragon reared their heads back, filling their lungs with air. Then, always in time with each other, they rocked their necks forward, and the dragon's maw opened.

The sun seemed to dim as the fire poured free. It was so intense, so concentrated, that it looked like just a pillar of white, lancing forward. As it collided with the ground, the earth began shaking so strongly that many of the soldiers in the armies lost their footing and fell over. The rock didn't break under the intense onslaught of flames, and at first, those watching weren't certain that it was even doing anything. It wasn't until Bahamut changed the angle of its blast slightly that they understood: the jet of flames had actually punched a hole directly through the rock, not by cracking or breaking it up, but by simply melting it instantaneously. The crater left behind had to have been at least six hundred metres wide, and it cut at least that far down.

And the fire didn't cut out. No, it kept pouring forth as Eileen guided Bahamut to slowly move its head, drawing a long line between the two armies. Soon, a massive gorge with perfectly smooth walls had been cut into ground. Eileen kept drawing it and drawing it, purple light lifting off of her.

Her face tightened a bit as another pain blossomed in her chest, and she tasted something metallic and wet in her mouth. She had to speed this up. The purple light flared up in intensity for a moment, as she gave a few more last orders to Bahamut. Then, she released her hold on it, and the dragon kept going, cutting the massive gorge into the rock.

Eileen took a moment to catch her breath and shake herself out. The pain was making it hard for her to concentrate by now. Just a bit more… a bit more…

She took off again, flying in the direction of Ambervale. She didn't go far, though; she kept her eyes trained on the Palace's fleeing army beneath her. If that force made it to Ambervale, it would make Marche and Isaac's missions almost impossible. So… she had to slow them down.

She glanced over to the last crystal that she had yet to use. She'd been intentionally saving this one until last. After seeing the effects that this type of energy had had on Montblanc over the years, she was certain that channelling this much of it would kill her almost instantly. However, she was as good as dead at this point already. Time to finish it.

She pointed one hand slowly down, several hundred metres ahead of the fleeing army. Then, she pointed her other hand towards the last crystal. She took a few deep breaths, and then concentrated.

Black fire exploded from the crystal, and raced over to dance over her. Pain immediately wracked her as the energy flowed through her veins, its corruption already beginning to tear her apart from the inside. She bit back a scream, and then forced the energy back out, forming the image in her mind.

Below, massive shards of ice suddenly burst free from the rock, reaching up towards the sky. It soon formed a semi-circle around the army, its end points touching against edge of the gorge. The ice rose up in jagged spikes, dozens of metres thick and soon getting up to at least a hundred metres in height. Far below, the army pulled up short in its flight, and simply stared.

Eileen, though, was oblivious to this. She was too focused on forcing all of that darkness out of her, and letting it go into the spell. She could feel patches of her fur falling out, and her entire body was shaking with pain. Just when she thought she would explode, though, the flow stopped. She froze, and then opened her eyes.

The lights in all of the crystals had gone out. For a few long moments, her pain-addled mind couldn't process what that meant. The moment it did, though, all of the crystals cracked at once. Then, they shattered, the individual fragments dissipating into the air as fine dust.

Eileen hung in the air for a long moment, watching this. Her breathing was haggard, her robes wrinkled and disorganised from the effects of the magic, and she looked at least thirty years older than she actually was.

Then, slowly, a grin crossed her face, and she rasped out, her voice thin, "And that's my choice."

Her eyes closed, and her body dropped. She was dead long before she hit the ground.


	131. The Last Night

Isaac looked up when he heard the sound of booted feet on the stone. His eyes fell on Thomas as the juggler worked his way up the rocky hill, now wearing a heavy black cloak. He was alone, Isaac noticed, and a quick look around showed that nobody was shadowing him.

"So how'd it go, kupo?" the mogknight finally asked as the juggler reached him.

The white furred moogle shrugged. "As well as could be expected. I mean, most of them are already terrified of me; it didn't take much convincing to keep them from following us." He glanced back over his shoulder for a moment. Even from a few hills away, the massive, damaged hull of _The__Invincible_was easily visible. "I am going to miss that ship though."

"She was a beautiful ship," Isaac had to admit. Then, he inclined his head slightly and muttered, "Sorry for helping to beat the living daylights out of it."

Thomas laughed, and shook his head. "Right, right, whatever you say." His gaze remained on the ship for a few more moments.

Isaac allowed him a short time, before he asked, "Are you ready, kupo?"

Thomas licked his lips. "Yes."

"You don't have to come if you don't want to. I understand that it's dangerous for you, kupo, what with the power that the Queen has over you."

"I said that I would help you, Isaac." Thomas finally looked away from his ship, and his eyes met Isaac's. "I've caused you a lot of pain in your life that you didn't deserve. I'm going to make that up."

Isaac nodded slowly, and then Thomas stepped by him. The mog knight followed, and they started heading down the other side of the hill, away from the ship.

Between Isaac, Thomas, and the well-trained crew, they'd managed to land relatively smoothly. That said, _The__Invincible_ was so heavily damaged that it would probably take at least a month of work to get it flying again. It had gotten them quite some distance before they'd finally had to land it, and for that, Isaac and Thomas were both thankful. After Eileen had initially cleared the skies to stop all of the fighting between the two armies, the clouds had slowly begun gathering back up. At their current distance, Isaac and Thomas were quite certain that they could make Ambervale by noon of the next day; that said, the storm would likely gather back up and break before then.

As such, they tried to not talk much as they walked. The plan was to cover as much distance as they could before nightfall, then find some sort of shelter before making the rest of the trek.

Eventually, though, when the sun was getting close to setting, Thomas took a deep breath, and said, "Er, so, Isaac."

The mog knight paused in his stride for a moment, and glanced over at the other moogle. "Yes?"

"I hope you don't mind me asking, but, uh… back there with Eileen… are… were you two together?"

Isaac couldn't help but snort at that. "You might say that. For all of half a minute."

"Oh, kupo…" The juggler was silent for a few more moments, before he muttered, "I'm sorry that things had to turn out that way."

Isaac's grin disappeared. "So am I. It's both mine and Eileen's fault, though, that things ended like that…"

Thomas glanced over at him curiously, and then carefully ventured, "You two loved each other, kupo."

"Very much so." The mog knight's voice was tight. Hearing this, Thomas hesitated slightly longer before asking his next question.

"As much as Lini?"

Isaac actually stopped walking at that. Thomas stopped a moment later, waiting for the mog knight's response.

"Yes…" Isaac finally said, his voice hesitant. "But not in the same way."

"How so, kupo?"

"Eileen was one of my best friends for years, kupo. It took us a long time before we were comfortable to be anything more than that; and I think that if we had never been anything more than that, I would have been happy. Lini…" Isaac thought about his relationship with the great mog knight, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't think I could ever be friends with Lini. I disliked her when I met her, and she thought I was pathetic, kupo. After we'd gotten to know each other, I was an immature brat, and she was so serious and tightly wound that I thought she was going to drive me crazy. Which, in a way, I guess she did. Just not quite in the way I'd guessed." He glanced up at Thomas again, and then added, "I guess I just have a thing for girls that know how to put me in my place, kupo."

Thomas snorted back at that, shaking his head and beginning to walk. "You don't exactly have a record for picking the easiest girls to get along with."

"Call it a gift?" The two moogles walked for a few more minutes after that, both of them feeling comfortable with the silence. Abruptly, though, Isaac glanced up at the juggler, and asked, "Well, you got to ask personal questions about me, kupo. How about you? Did the fabled general of the Palace's Airship Fleet have any flames over the past few years, kupo?"

Thomas snorted at that, and glanced back at Isaac, pointing at his crooked nose and scarred face. "You don't get much attention with a face like this, kupo."

"Girls dig scars, kupo. Not to mention, there's your legendary charm…"

"Ah, shut up, kupo."

Isaac smirked, but didn't say anything more, and so the two of them kept on moving.

They finally stopped for the night several hours later, long after the sun had set. They were just reaching the outskirtsof theancient city of Ambervale, and the first few buildings were rising up around them. These were quite small; mostly just average sized residential dwellings, one or two stories high at most. The stone was so old that any colour that may have once been on the buildings had long since worn away with the rain and wind. The corners of all of the buildings were worn down to blunted edges, and many of the roofs had long since caved in.

After a short while, the two moogles managed to find one hut that was slightly more intact than the others. They ducked in through the entrance, thankful for the shelter; a strong wind had begun kicking up, and they knew it couldn't be long until the rain began to fall.

When they got inside, Isaac pulled off his pack, and pulled out everything that was left in it: a few travelling rations, a canteen, and some tinder. He checked to make sure the chimney was unblocked, and then built a small fire base with the tinder, before shoving the actual empty bag into the firepit with it. Thomas looked on in confusion as Isaac drew out the Avuir Blue, and touched its tip against the fabric. A look of slight concentration crossed the mog knight's face, and then flames burst from the tip, catching on the pack and quickly starting a steady little fire.

As Isaac sheathed his blade, Thomas muttered, "Waste of a good pack."

"Not really," Isaac replied. He was already taking off his travelling cloak and laying it out on the floor as a small bed. "This time tomorrow, I'll either be back in St Ivalice, or dead, kupo. Either way, I'm not going to need a pack."

Thomas looked a bit surprised at that. After a few moments, though, he nodded slowly. "I guess you're right… it's an odd thought, though, kupo."

Isaac lifted up some of the dried meat that had been in his pack, and looked it over for a bit, probably longer than he had to. "Yeah."

Thomas watched Isaac carefully. Then, the juggler finally asked, "So… tomorrow, you and I fight Maxwell, kupo?"

"No."

"Then what's your plan, kupo?"

"The plan…" Isaac mulled it over for a bit. "Well, I have to fight Maxwell. He's my responsibility."

"Why you alone, though? Why can't somebody help you?"

"Because Maxwell's too strong."

"And for some reason, you think that you alone will be able to beat him, kupo?"

Isaac glanced over at Thomas again, and the juggler couldn't read his expression as he simply said, "I'm an Ultimate. That puts me in a pretty good position in just about any fight, kupo. However, Maxwell is also an Ultimate, he's been blessed by Adrammalech and Remedi, and he carries the power of the Worldwyrm. I doubt that _anybody_ could actually defeat him, kupo."

"Then what's your plan?"

Isaac sighed, and finally took a bite of the tough meat. He chewed for a bit, his face creasing as he cast a glance down at the rest of the rations. He shook his head, though, and swallowed, before saying, "If Maxwell is using all of his abilities, kupo, I can't beat him. It's as simple as that. So… I guess I just have to restrict some of his abilities…"

Thomas watched the mog knight for a few more seconds. Finally, the juggler sighed, then reached up to rub at his forehead. "You don't have a plan at all, do you, kupo?"

Isaac glanced over at Thomas for a few seconds, chewing on another bite of jerkey. He took a quick sip from his canteen to get the mouthful down, and then said, "No."

There was silence for a few long moments. Then, at last, the juggler muttered, "You think there's still some of Maxwell in there, kupo?"

"I'm certain of it."

The juggler nodded. "Alright. You were friends with Maxwell, but I hated him, kupo. There are a few things I know about him that you don't."

"Such as?"

"He's got a competitive streak a mile long. Not to mention, every report I ever read about him from the Palace said that he was honourable to a flaw. So, kupo, here's what we're going to do…"

* * *

"Alright, that looks like it…" Marche muttered. Everybody else tensed up and looked in the direction his head was facing. A few kilometres ahead of them, they could just make out a large raised rectangle in the middle of the city. On the top of this rectangle, barely visible in the pale glow of moonlight, was the grand palace of Ambervale. None of them could make out any real details about it from the distance; they could just pick out a few massive pillars rising up into the clouds, but besides that, there was nothing.

"So what's the plan, kupo?" Montblanc asked. The six of them had stopped to stare at their final destination, and now all eyes turned to Marche. "Are we going tonight, or should we wait until the morning?"

The paladin stopped, thinking. Rolf and his crew had dropped them off on the outskirts of the town an hour ago, and now they were well into the heart of Ambervale. They still had a while to go, but he was certain that they could make it before the rain started.

At length, the human rubbed at the small bit of stubble that had started forming on his chin. "Alright then… let's get this over with tonight. The faster we can attack, the more surprised the Palace's forces will be."

His clanmates nodded at that, and they started walking again. They hadn't gone more than a few steps, though, when Guinness stopped abruptly at the back of the group.

"Wait."

The mage was holding a hand up, and casting about himself in confusion. His eyes narrowed suddenly, and he muttered, "There's a very, very strong source of magic nearby."

Everybody tensed immediately, and they all bunched up, turning to face outwards with Guinness in the middle. Even Doned took up the defensive position naturally, a few black flames beginning to dance across his hands. Guinness was still feeling around for the source of the magic.

After a few moments of silence, Montblanc murmured, "If this source is so strong, then why are you only just feeling it, kupo?"

"I'm not sure…" the nu mou replied. "It's strong, yes, but… at the same time, it's faint."

Montblanc turned and regarded Guinness carefully as the others kept their eyes on their surroundings. "Faint how, kupo? Faint as in somebody's shielding it, or faint as in…"

Guinness was nodding before he finished. "Faint as in a spellcaster who's overused their power."

"Can you find them?" It was Marche who said this. Montblanc and Guinness glanced over to him, before the nu mou replied.

"I think so. Follow me."

The nu mou walked out of their protective circle, and the others followed. At first, he moved slowly and hesitantly, constantly holding his hands out and concentrating to feel for that trace of energy. As time went on, though, he began moving faster. After about ten minutes of wandering through the abandoned streets, he stopped abruptly, and turned towards the door of a building. He stared at it for a few seconds, then turned to Marche, and nodded.

Wordlessly, the paladin walked over to the door, Caitlin close behind him. Vili had already strung her bow, and there was an arrow against its string. The two humans glanced to each other, and then at once, they nodded. Marche lifted his foot, and slammed it against the door.

The flimsy, rotten wood blew inwards off of its aged hinges. Caitlin rushed in as soon as the door was open, and Marche followed her. The other four waited, tense, until suddenly Caitlin's voice called, "In the name of… Guinness, get in here!"

The mage pushed through the door, and the others followed him in. The front room of the building was empty; however, the steps in the dust on the ground led them into the next room. When he stepped into this room, Guinness paused for a moment to curse, then rushed over to the corner, white light already building around him.

There was a pile of cloth and white fur slouching against the wall. Its chest was rising and falling sharply, its breaths haggard and sharp. Marche was standing back as Caitlin crouched in front of it. The soldier was quickly going about tying bandages around a large, open gash in the creature's stomach. The white fur all around that point was stained red with sticky blood, and the previously blue clothes were stained brown.

"Babus Swain," Guinness breathed as he reached the other nu mou and knelt in front of him. He held out his hand, and the white fire dancing along it began sinking into that flesh. "What did you do to yourself…"

At the sound of voices, the nu mou's eyes opened. They were bloodshot and feverish, and completely out of focus as he tried to look at the group gathered around him.

"He must have tried to get to Mewt on his own…" Marche murmured. There was a dark look in his eyes. Everybody watched Guinness work in silence for a short time, before Marche finally asked, "How is he?"

"It's hard to say," Guinness replied. His forehead was creased with concentration as he worked. "From the look of this, he got this wound a couple hours ago… it's amazing he's still alive. Anybody cut from softer stuff would've died within minutes of getting a wound like this. Still, though… if I don't help him, then he isn't going to survive the night."

Marche nodded slowly. Then, he asked, "Doned?"

The younger human stepped forward. His eyes lingered on Babus for a few moments, before he glanced over to Marche. "Yeah?"

"You know their defences better than we do. Do you think we stand a better chance now than we would in the morning?"

The redheaded boy chewed his lip for a few moments. Then, finally, he said, "Yes. They've come to think that you guys aren't aggressive. They won't be expecting you to come at night. Not to mention, even if Llednar and Maxwell can keep up guard for twenty-four hours at a time, it doesn't mean that the normal guards can. Attacking now would mean that you'd be hitting them at their weakest."

Marche sighed. "Right. Well then, everybody, get comfortable. We're spending the night."

Nobody argued, and so they all started pulling their bedrolls out of their packs and finding places to lay them out. Caitlin got a fire started, and Montblanc and Grans started preparing a simple meal. As soon as he'd set up his own bedroll, however, Marche left the building, stepping out into the cool night air. He slowly looked up, and shook his head as he saw the gathering storm clouds. It would have been so much easier to just attack during the night. Still, though…

The human sighed, and leaned back against the wall of the ancient building, closing his eyes. Attacking in the morning meant that they would for certain be going against Llednar, Maxwell, and all of their soldiers.

He knew that his team was good. He had absolute faith in all of their abilities. Still, though… even the normal soldiers that they would be fighting tomorrow would be the best that the Palace had to offer. The original plan had been for Guinness to lead the others in taking down the soldiers while Marche fought Llednar and Eileen fought Maxwell. A paladin for a biskmatar, and an Ultimate for an Ultimate. Now, though…

The paladin gnawed on his lip. He wasn't sure how to rebalance his team to meet this situation. If Marche was going to be fighting against Llednar, then Caitlin was the only person strong enough to go toe to toe with Maxwell. Of course, that would leave the rest of his team without melee support, which wasn't something he relished the thought of. And even then, Caitlin would have to use the full power of her Eye on Maxwell, which could make her as much of a threat to her teammates as to their enemies.

On top of all that, Marche wasn't entirely certain that he could take Llednar. He'd been training for the entire winter for that one battle, but he could never be completely sure.

The paladin glanced up when he heard footsteps coming out of the house. He tensed when he saw the dark fabric and the shock of dark red hair, and couldn't help but glance away as Doned approached him.

"Hey, the others seemed worried about you in there," the younger human said, stopping right next to his brother. "None of them seemed to want to come and talk to you, though."

"So you decided to be the intrepid adventurer, coming out to see what I was up to?"

Doned eyed his brother for a few long moments. Then, he muttered, "Fine, if you're going to be like that, I'll just head back inside."

Marche snorted at that, drawing the other human up short. "Oh, no, you don't get to act offended after what you attempted earlier today."

"After what I pulled? Marche, what other choice did you give me?"

"You could have chosen not to try and kill me."

"And you could have chosen to let your brother stay healthy."

Marche was about to give a sharp reply to that, but stopped, sighing. At length, he leaned himself against the wall, then slid down to a sitting position. "You know that I want you to stay healthy."

"You've chosen an odd way to show me that." The younger human's tone was softer than before. He carefully took a seat on the ground as well, meeting his brother's eyes. "Why are you so obsessed with this? What's so wrong about this world?"

The paladin took a long time to respond. When he did, his voice was hesitant. "Back in St Ivalice, Mewt was the only kid in class that would talk to me on my first day. He always wanted to hang out, and he was always… nice. And now, over here, he's as good as a despot. And then there's Ritz… she was always strong, but she never used it for her own gain. She might do good things here, but she's arrogant… very arrogant. And you. I never would have wanted my brother to become an assassin."

Doned thought about that for a long time. Then, eventually, he muttered, "You've turned out well, though."

Marche snorted. "I'm a rebel. I'm leading a civil war. I've lead attacks that have cost hundreds, maybe thousands of people their lives. I'm not doing any better than the rest of you. Sure, this world was great at first, but… it's become twisted. All of us were given so much power in a heartbeat, and none of us were prepared for it. It's… corrupted us."

The younger human took a long moment to think about this. Then, at length, he muttered, "Don't judge me, but I'd rather be corrupt than sick."

"You can't say that. You might—"

"I'm not going to get better, Marche. It might not progress any further, but back home I'll never get my legs back. You know that as well as I do."

"I know. I know that. And I'm not going to try to change your mind, because I know that it won't work. I just wish that we could agree on this."

Doned leaned back a bit, and rolled his eyes. "Marche, we're never going to agree on this. We don't have to, though. I can still be your brother without agreeing with you on everything."

Marche sat still for a while, thinking this over. When he spoke again, his voice had regained a bit of its authority. "What are you planning on doing tomorrow?"

Doned snorted at that. "What, you mean about the battle? I'm steering clear of that. I've seen part of what Llednar and Maxwell can do, and that part was more than enough for me. Besides, I don't really have a place in big battles or wars. I'm more of a hit and run type."

The paladin nodded. "Do you know any white magic?"

"I've had some training with it. Why, what are you thinking?"

"I want you to stay here. Somebody has to watch over Babus until Guinness can get back from the battle and help him."

Doned nodded very slowly. "Alright. That's something that I can do. I might ask for you and Caitlin's help to move him, though."

"Move him? Where to?"

"At least half a mile further away from the Palace than here. I don't feel safe being this close to a battle like that."

Marche nodded. "Fair enough. For now, though, let's sleep."

The two of them got up, and then brushed themselves off. Doned headed back into the house, but Marche hesitated for a few moments, turning to glance over his shoulder at the distant Palace, rising high above the town. He sighed, and then muttered, "You're getting an extra day, Isaac. You'd better show up."


	132. Paladin and Biskmatar

Marche held up a hand as they reached the base of the steps. The rest of his group halted immediately behind him, and all of their eyes turned up to stare at the massive, raised platform that held the palace in Ambervale. The sheer size of the city surrounding it had floored everybody in the clan. The city stretched for miles in every direction, sprawling to take up an immense amount of space.

After they'd left Doned and Babus, it had taken the group the better part of the morning to reach the base of the steps that lead the way up to the Palace. The stairs themselves went up at least a hundred metres, and they stretched out at least a kilometre to either side of where the clan currently stood. After that, they turned at right angles, and reached another five kilometres, before meeting another pair of right angles, creating a perfect rectangular raised section at the top of the stairs. It was on this raised area that the palace was housed.

From their current position they couldn't quite see the palace. That said, over the course of the morning, they had been seeing more and more signs of the great battle that had resulted in the former capital to be abandoned. The dim light afforded by the thick storm clouds overhead fit the declined state of the city perfectly. Here and there, entire blocks of houses had been flattened, and there were still burn marks on some of the stones. Once, they had even passed by the shattered remains of an airship, the skeleton of its hull protected from the elements by a number of large buildings around it.

One of the most apparent signs of that great battle, though, was now before them. Whereas when it had originally been built, the great rectangular raised section in the middle of town had been flawless, it now had a large chunk missing at the top of one of the corners. The stones had simply been blown away, causing a massive avalanche of rubble to fall down into the city and collapse several houses.

As soon as he laid eyes on it, Guinness had piped up. "I've read about that. That was the place where the Archmage Nanette and the assassin Martel did battle during the Battle of Ambervale." Everybody was quiet for a few moments, staring at the horrifying aftermath of a duel between Ultimates, still apparent so many hundreds of years later. "Over five hundred souls perished in that one duel, including Nanette and Martel."

"This place has seen many great battles, it seems…" Marche muttered. "Not many in the past few hundred years… but it seems that any great battle mentioned before this place was abandoned took place somewhere around this city."

"Well of course it was," Grans said. The elderly nu mou's head was cocked to the side as she sized the crater up. "Have you never heard any of the old stories? Ambervale was the first city in Ivalice… it's survived all the ages, and for quite a long time, it was the seat of all power. Heavily secluded from the rest of the land, but until the moogles began developing airships, it was the only reasonable point of entry to Ivalice from the sea… if somebody wants to take Ivalice, they have to go through here…" She shook her head abruptly, and muttered, "Naturally, it means that much blood has been spilt here. For whatever reason, we all seem quite determined to smear our most treasured gathering places with death."

"Sometimes there isn't a choice," Marche murmured, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the crater. "You never know… we might see another such battle today. Isaac and Maxwell have never fought each other in peak condition. If both of them show up…" The human fell silent, and the rest of his group didn't push him to finish.

Abruptly, he turned though, and faced his clan. They all met his gaze, and gathered in a semi-circle around him. Montblanc, Caitlin, Guinness, Vili, and Grans. The human took a deep breath, and then spoke.

"This is it. Some of you I've been fighting alongside for six years, now. Others, I've only known for one. Remember, though; I trust all of you with my life. The only way I could feel more comfortable right now is if we had the members we've lost along the way with us. Remember their names as we fight today. Pallanza."

"Lindsay," Caitlin murmured. The fighter's face twisted a bit as she said the name, and even more as she added, "Robert."

"Lini," Vili said.

"Jocelyn," Montblanc spoke this name, his fists bunching up as he spoke.

"Benjamin and Eileen." Grans gave these names, and the others nodded, accepting the names, though neither had ever truly been a member of the clan. "And though I never met her, Jacqueline."

"Everybody we have failed to save since we started this," Guinness murmured. More quietly, he added, "And everybody before."

The group was quiet for a short time after that. Then, finally, Marche cleared his throat, and went on. "Today we fight for their memories, and for our own futures. Whether we succeed or fail today… the odds are very good that I won't see any of you again." The paladin's forehead creased at that. "I will miss all of you. It's been an honour to have known you. Now…" The paladin's demeanour changed suddenly, and his back straightened as his voice grew harder again. "Eileen gave us several gifts before she left us. I know that we haven't used them yet for fear that the magical signatures would make us traceable on the airship, but that doesn't matter so much anymore. First, we'll be fighting Llednar, and probably Maxwell as well, likely without support from Isaac. After that, we confront the Queen and whatever protections she has. Now is not the time to hold back anymore. So… let's pass out the goods."

Everybody nodded. Montblanc shrugged down a pack from his back, and set it in the centre of their semi-circle. He opened it up, and reached inside. His arm went in far deeper than the small bag should have allowed, and when it came up, it was carrying a sword. He passed it over to Caitlin, and then kept rummaging around, digging out more pieces of equipment and passing them out.

Soon, everybody was kitted out. Caitlin had replaced both of her weapons; she was in the process of removing the long red ribbon from the hilt of her old sword and tying it to the hilt of the new one. This new sword was odd; it made all of the others feel uncomfortable whenever they looked at it. Caitlin, however, seemed unfazed as she slipped it into the empty sheath at her hip. Her blade's hilt was pitch black as it stuck out from the opposite hip.

Next to her, Vili was just finishing up with stringing a heavy-looking bow. It was made of thick hardwood, and when she gave the string attached to it a flick, it barely even vibrated. She raised the bow in front of her, and hooked her fingers into the string. She carefully pulled it back, the massive bow slowly bending, until the hand on the string was resting under her jawbone. Her eyes narrowed, and then she slowly brought her hand back forward, releasing the tension. She held the bow at her side, then kicked at the dirt a bit. "Well… if I use this for too long, the muscles in my arm are going to double in size… but I like it." Along with the bow, she had also put on a new pair of boots, completely spotless on the rough, broken ground.

Next to her was Grans. She was kneeling, and looking carefully into a large leather instrument case. Finally, she nodded, and closed it again, buckling it shut. She carefully slung it onto her back with the leather strap attached to it, and stood up straight. Along with the case, she also had a tough leather whip coiled around the strap of her satchel.

Guinness was just finishing up with getting changed beside her. He had cast off the heavy travelling cloak he'd been wearing before, and now he had donned a deep purple robe. It was finely woven, and worn with age. The sleeves flared out as they reached the cuffs, hanging heavily from his arms. Most impressive of all about this cloak, though, were the hundred and hundreds of small magical runes embroidered into the fabric with thin yellow threads. The mage shook out his hands, and the sleeves settled more into place. He sighed, and then placed a pointed black hat on his head. "Well, I never thought I would wear the ceremonial robes of the Archmage of Cadoan…"

"It was your dream at one point," Grans grinned at him, and the old white mage's cheeks reddened. "Oh, I remember you talking about it at the campfire… how you'd become the greatest mage in the land, and nobody would deny your claim for the leadership of Cadoan."

"In a different time," the mage muttered, brushing off the front of the robe. "The Archmage is always a sage… and better that way, too. If we survive this, these robes are going back to Cadoan, and I'm finding another tiny village somewhere that needs a healer."

"That's what you said last time," the beastmaster reminded him. "See how well that turned out?"

"I do," Guinness murmured, his brow creasing. "And that is precisely why I won't let myself leave this time. No more fighting. No more patching people back together. I'd rather spend my time curing colds and listening to hypochondriacs complain about sniffles."

"I'll come with you, just to see how long it lasts," Montblanc said from next to the mage. The moogle had put his pack back on, as well as having changed his shoes for another pair drawn from the bag. He carefully reached down to wipe the blue fabric off, and then stood back up, glancing over at Guinness with a smirk. "You never know when another mad moogle is going to show up and ask you to do the impossible, kupo."

Guinness tensed up a bit at that, then glanced over to the moogle quickly. "I apologize. I was happy to help you, I didn't mean to imply that…"

"I know," Montblanc chuckled. "I am sorry I got you involved with all this**, **kupo. That said, I know you well enough now to know that you would have come even if I didn't need you."

Guinness looked more than a bit put out by the moogle's summary of the situation, but he fell silent as Marche spoke.

"We can discuss who forced who to take part in a coup d'état after we've defeated the Queen." The paladin looked like an entirely different person. He had shed his long cloak and dented breastplate. In its place, he now wore a billowing white cape, the acorn symbol of Clan Nutsy embroidered across its back. Beneath, he was wearing a set of thick plated armour, gracefully bending with all of his movements. The metal was polished to a beautiful sheen, giving it a soft, bluish grey colour. The set of armour covered him from his shoulders down to the bottoms of his feet. At his hip, he had buckled a broad knightsword, its hilt inlaid with gilt finger grooves. As they watched, he knelt carefully, the armour moving perfectly with him, to pick a shield up off of the ground. The shield itself looked more like a decorative piece than something made for war. The finely polished steel swooped with graceful lines down, and at its corners swooped up into small wing-shaped extensions. He carefully lifted the shield up, and then stood, glancing around at his assembled clan. "Until we've finished with that, though, I have been noticing that my throat is a bit rough lately. Care to take a look, Guinness?"

Everybody eyed the human for a few long moments, and Marche couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as they eyed him up and down. Then, finally, Caitlin spoke.

"Well. _Now_ you look like the leader of an army."

The paladin slowly grinned, and shook his head. "And I didn't before?"

"Normally you just look like another one of my friends," the other human replied. "Like somebody I could charge into battle alongside. Right now, though… you look like somebody I could _follow_ into battle."

The paladin was speechless for a long moment. Caitlin was not the type to give praise easily. At length, he simply cleared his throat, and asked, "Who wants to declare the engagement?"

"I've got it, kupo." Montblanc reached into his satchel again, and pulled out a large, leather-bound book. He opened up the back cover, and carefully slid a judgepoint out of a pouch built into the leather. He glanced around at everybody to make sure that they were ready, and then he tossed the card into the air. "I declare an engagement!"

The card flashed, and then disappeared. After a long moment of silence, there was another flash, this one occurring just next to Montblanc. Everybody shielded their eyes as the light slowly pulsed, before filling out into a more definite shape. In a couple of seconds, the light began dimming, and in its place there stood the Judgemaster Cid.

The man was astride his large grey warchocobo, the majestic beast looking sombre and alert. Cid himself wore his full battle armour, and the hilt of the great Judge Sword was protruding from just above his hip. He carried a heavy, full-head judge's helm under his arm. As soon as he materialized, he nudged his chocobo forward to Marche.

"All of you are ready?" The judgemaster was all business. He kept casting his eyes around, and he let them linger on that long set of stairs for a long moment before glancing back to Marche. "Ezel could only create one of those cards. You're only going to get one shot at this."

"We're ready," Marche said. His grip tightened on his sword and his shield. "Start the engagement."

Cid nodded slowly. Then, he muttered, "Let it begin." He lifted that helm, and then lowered it over his head. Once it was down, all of his features were obscured by the heavy armour. He took a deep breath, and then spoke. His voice resonated off of the city's empty walls. "The engagement between Clan Nutsy and the defences of Ambervale is begun!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Montblanc reached into his tome again, and drew out another card. He tossed the card into the air, and it hung there for a moment, glimmering. Then, it disappeared in a flash, blinding all of them for a moment.

"All laws protecting Llednar Twem from damage have been nullified," Cid announced. That heavy helm turned to stare at Marche, the eyes nothing but dark holes in the shadows of the helmet's slits. "Good luck."

Marche gave a quick nod to the judge. Then, he turned to the staircase, and started running, taking the steps two at a time. He didn't need to look to know that his clanmates were right behind him, or that Cid was pacing them easily. He simply closed his eyes, and focused on his breathing. As soon as they reached the top of the stairs, it would begin.

Thunder rumbled far above, and rain began to fall.

Thomas froze next to Isaac as the thunder cracked. Isaac stopped, and glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. The juggler was perfectly still, his eyes wide.

At length, the mogknight muttered, "What? Are you afraid of lightning or something?"

"The battle's starting, kupo."

Isaac paused. The two had gotten up before dawn that day to try and gain as much time as possible. They'd been hoping to catch up to Nutsy before the battle actually started. "How can you tell, kupo?"

"Llednar's abilities," Thomas said, his voice soft. "None of them are natural. They all cause… disturbances. If you've only been around him for a while, you don't notice it, except for the big things like Omega… but once you've been in a few battles, you can feel every one of his movements. It's like a drop of dye in clear water…" The juggler licked his lips. "Llednar is fighting, kupo."

"Then that means Maxwell is fighting, kupo," Isaac said. He grabbed the juggler's arm, and gave him a tug. "Come on!"

At his touch, Thomas jumped, and then followed him. The two ran through the streets towards the distant stairs. They barely even noticed as the rain began falling, coming down in fat, heavy drops from the start. Isaac was going over how long it would take him to get to the stairs, and then how quickly they could get up. Even with his best guesses, he didn't like the amount of time he'd be leaving Nutsy with both Llednar and Maxwell to deal with. He had to get there.

The pair ran on in silence for a good five minutes, the rain gradually growing stronger around them. By the time they reached the base of the stairs, it was pelting down, each drop almost stinging on impact. Isaac paused, and wiped rainwater from his eyes. He tugged his fedora a bit lower on his head, before turning to Thomas.

"I'll meet you up there, kupo."

Before the juggler could ask any questions, Isaac reached down to his hip, and drew out the Avuir Blue. As soon as the blade was in his paws, he started running up the stairs. With the magic of the weapon and small flutters from his wings, he was able to take them three at a time. All the while, he went over the plan that Thomas had laid out last night. It was a bit chancy, and in all honesty, Isaac didn't expect it to work. But still, if it made the juggler feel better, then he would go with it.

By the time Isaac was approaching the top of the stairs, he was breathing heavily. As he rushed up the last few steps, he simply hoped that the rest of the combatants were already as winded as him.

Finally, he stepped up onto the upper platform. It was massive in scale, stretching out to cover as much area as some of the smaller villages he'd been to. The first half of it in front of him was simply open space, broken up by occasional arches supported by towering pillars. The grounds were filled with the remains of what had once been elaborate gardens and mosaics, but time had long since worn down their magnificence.

Not far from the edge of the platform, a massive pitched battle was taking place. Between them, Guinness, Grans, and Caitlin were taking on about three-dozen palace soldiers. A single glance at the soldiers told Isaac that they were the best the Palace had to offer. They worked perfectly in concert with each other, knowing how to cover for each other and move to keep their enemies off-balance.

Caitlin, however, was matching all of their melee fighters on her own. As always, her eyes were closed, and her two weapons were dancing around her in wide circles. That red ribbon attached to the hilt of her sword danced in sharp arcs as she moved, passing through the ranks of soldiers with effortless grace. Even as Isaac watched, she ducked under a shield bash from one soldier, and stabbed out with her sword. She caught the edge of a bangaa's blade on it, and then brought her other weapon around, slicing deep into his stomach.

As she was coming up, though, Isaac caught sight of something from the corner of his eye. Abruptly, an arrow streamed in, and thudded into her side. Caitlin took a step sideways with the impact, and her face creased the slightest bit in pain. However, she didn't stop moving; she kept up that incredible dance, her weapons fending off attacks and jabbing in at any exposed skin she could find.

Hanging back from her position, Guinness lowered his head, and took a deep breath. White light gathered around him, and then he let it flood forward in a stream. It flowed expertly around the enemy soldiers, and finally washed over Caitlin's side. As it hit, the arrow slowly began twitching back, before finally falling out and to the ground. The wound bled for an instant, but soon sealed up, leaving nothing but a slightly rough scar.

His work done, Guinness straightened out, and flexed his arms. The white light around him darkened, and quickly turned black as the rain falling around him began freezing on impact. He watched carefully, and then flexed his fingers as Caitlin jumped free from the throng for a moment. Immediately, massive spires of jagged ice leapt from the earth, rising up in the middle of the assembled group.

Noticing where the attack had come from, a few of the soldiers broke free from the main pack, and headed directly for the mage. They all drew up short, mostly in confusion, as Grans turned to face them. She stood only a few feet away from the mage, and was shaking her head as the others approached. She carefully shrugged a black leather case she was carrying down from her shoulder, and laid it on the ground.

Then, she uncoiled her whip from around the strap of her satchel, and stood waiting for the soldiers.

Isaac only saw all of this from the edges of his vision, though, as he rushed right past this battle. The only indication he had that Vili was anywhere nearby was a small pack of spellcasters nearby, all of them on the ground with arrows sticking out of their robes. He saw one body amongst all of them that was smaller, and dressed in tight black, and figured that Vili had had to go on a gambit to take down the rest of the mages. It was alright, though; they were in an engagement, so she didn't have to fear death.

As Isaac pulled away from the larger struggle, and ran further along through those arches, the sounds of fighting faded. The heavy rain was muffling them perfectly, and the occasional flashes of Guinness's magic simply looked like more lightning. They would be fine. Or at least he hoped they would. They were good… the real threat in this battle was up ahead of him.

And then, abruptly, from out in front of him, he saw a flash of white. The moogle narrowed his eyes, and adjusted himself to run a bit more directly for that flash. As he drew closer, he began hearing the telltale ringing of metal off of metal, as well as the occasional shouted command word to a spell.

In no time, Isaac could make out three figures in front of him. They just looked like silhouettes through the heavy rain, but it was easy enough for Isaac to guess whom each one was.

Marche was giving ground fast, moving with incredible speed as he brought his sword and shield around to intercept attack after attack from his two opponents. Half of the time, his knightsword glowed with pale white light, lending strength to each of his blows. His long white cape was plastered against his back with the weight of the rain, and the very bottom of it flicked occasionally with his movements.

As Isaac watched, the hulking figure that must have been Maxwell took a step back, letting Llednar engage Marche on his own. The bangaa waited a moment, and then jumped, his heavily muscled legs allowing him to a pull a high, slow tuck over the heads of the two combatants. He landed easily on Marche's opposite side, and then brought his spear around.

Marche turned, and spread his arms uncomfortably wide. He managed to intercept the attacks coming at him from both sides, but both of the blocks were shaky. He held them for a few moments, his arms trembling a bit, and then abruptly he turned, pulling out of the blocks quickly. He used the momentum of the turn to slam his sword and his shield against his opponent's weapons, trying to catch them off guard.

Maxwell easily caught the sword's edge along the pole of his spear, and Llednar had no trouble pulling his weapon out of the way of the shield. Not allowing either of them to attack first, Marche quickly tugged his sword back from its strike, and blinding white light began gathering along its length. He kneeled suddenly, and jabbed the weapon into the earth.

Immediately, white light burst out of the ground all around the paladin, making him look like no more than a black silhouette for a few moments. Both Llednar and Maxwell were thrown back by the sudden attack, the blast of light leaving each one smouldering a bit. Even from where he was, still several dozen metres away, Isaac saw Llednar's surprise. The biskmatar looked down at himself, his stance tense. The dark streaks weren't just on his heavily plated armour; he had a few nasty red burns rising on his exposed skin.

Then, abruptly, Marche charged at him, his knightsword leading in a brutal slash. The biskmatar just managed to raise his shield to intercept the attack, and he brought his own weapon out. Marche jumped back clear of the strike, and then lunged forward aggressively. Isaac saw white light building all along the length of his sword, streaming out and making the weapon look twice its normal size. Llednar, still recovering from his surprise, brought both his shield and his sword up, and caught the attack between the two of them. There was an intense flash, and then Llednar was sliding back, rain sizzling whenever it touched against his sword or shield.

As Marche followed him, Isaac saw Maxwell finally regain his balance and shake his head. The glared at the two fighters, and then bunched his legs. They straightened out sharply, and then he flew up, straight into the sky, his spear trailing behind him. Isaac just managed to catch sight of him disappearing amongst the clouds before he was gone.

Isaac bit his lip, and put on a last burst of speed. His lungs were burning from running for so long, but he didn't have time to catch his breath. He lowered his head, and carefully clamped that blade in two paws as he charged straight for where Marche and Llednar were fighting.

Abruptly, just as he was a few steps away from the two of them, there was a flash of lightning. In that moment, he could easily see a dark silhouette outlined in the sky above him, plummeting. Isaac didn't let it steal his focus; instead, he took one more step, and turned on that foot as he moved. He jumped and travelled through the air backwards towards Marche's exposed back.

Maxwell's spear came down, and the Avuir Blue's edge rang off of its head.

The force of the impact threw Isaac and Maxwell away from each other, each one managing to land in tight crouches facing each other. Isaac's paws were still ringing from blocking that spear, but he ignored the stinging pain as he kept his eyes locked on Maxwell. The dragoon was staring back at him with just as much intensity, and Isaac felt a chill run up his spine. Those eyes didn't look the way he remembered. In a way, they held some of that rage that Ben's eyes used to radiate. However, these also held something else that he'd never seen in Ben's eyes: malice. Yes, Eileen had definitely been right. Whatever the Queen had done to Maxwell, it was more than just giving him another upgrade in power.

"Glad you could make it, Isaac."

Neither Isaac or Maxwell turned to look at Marche when the paladin spoke. The two humans stood a few metres away from the two friends. It sounded as though they'd stopped fighting for the moment. The four were silent for several long seconds as they all caught their breath.

Finally, Isaac answered. "Yeah, I'm here, kupo. You can handle Llednar."

"Unlikely." The biskmatar's voice was cool and confident. He didn't sound the least bit concerned that his defences were gone.

"I'll deal with him," Marche muttered.

"Good," Isaac answered, and he stretched his neck out. "I'm trusting you to avenge Lini for me, kupo."

"Gladly."

"The judge is present, kupo?"

"Of course."

Isaac nodded. He took a deep breath, and then muttered, "Maxwell, I'm sorry. This is going to hurt like hell."

The bangaa growled upon hearing that, and his stance grew tense. Isaac didn't care. He simply charged forward, covering the distance between them in no time. He brought his weapon around in both hands, chopping with full force at Maxwell's neck.

The dragoon jumped back, his feet splashing in one of the deep puddles forming all across the square. As soon as his feet touched down, he lunged forward with his spear, using the weapon's greater reach against Isaac. The moogle ducked under the thrust, water dripping from his fur as he rushed forward under the metal pole.

As his foot slapped down against the wet cobblestones on the first step, the sound of the storm around them dimmed. Maxwell tensed, recognizing the feeling, and he shifted his grip on his spear slightly. On the moogle's next step, light amassed around Isaac's blade, bending to fit its length. Maxwell's spear came back, and he brought its butt down to slam into the ground. As he finished his last step, Isaac brought his weapon around and down towards Maxwell's exposed side, crying out, "_Ultima!_"

Maxwell's arms tensed, and he pushed off with the spear at the ground. The force of his thrust lifted him, and he threw himself into a hard backflip away from Isaac as the moogle's blade slammed into the ground. There was an intense roaring as the charge of Ultima went off, and dust and bits of debris burst out from that point of contact.

Maxwell landed his backflip in a stumble, a few dislodged pieces of cobblestone bouncing off of him. He had barely managed to regain his balance when Isaac charged forward out of the dust cloud, his second blade drawn and leading.

The bangaa growled again, and brought his spear's butt forward to intercept the red blade. The blue weapon snaked in and around, but stopped with a jolt. Isaac let out a surprised yelp, and pushed harder. The weapon didn't budge forward, though, and a moment later, the spear's butt slid free from its block, and slammed against the moogle's chest.

Isaac was thrown back by the strike, gasping for breath. He landed hard on his back, but managed to roll backwards up to his feet. As he looked up, lightning flashed again, and he saw an odd tendril of blackness near Maxwell's leg, right next to where the moogle had intended to strike. The bangaa gave a slight twitch with one of his fingers, and the black thing shot towards the moogle.

Isaac took a step back, and swept the Avuir Blue out in front of him. The blade knocked the tendril out to the side, but even as the darkness fell away from him, he heard footsteps, and then a horrible sensation. He glanced up, and saw that Maxwell was already two steps away, holding his spear in both hands, ready to skewer. Energy was leaning in around the tip, and the flecks of rain were beginning to join into a vortex there.

Isaac was still off-balance from batting away the tendril. He knew he couldn't jump back, or knock the spear off-course, so instead he threw himself into the momentum of his previous strike. As Maxwell closed with him and lunged down with the spear, Isaac's feet left the ground, and he dove awkwardly to the side. He just heard Maxwell roaring out, "_Ultima!_" as he fell forward, feeling the wind tugging his fur back towards the weapon. He hit the ground in a hard roll as the earth exploded behind him. He felt the shockwaves of the impact, and they sent him staggering as he came back up to his feet.

Isaac turned fast on his feet, raising the Avuir Red. Maxwell's spear, still simmering from its blast of Ultima, clanged against it. The moogle altered his grip somewhat, and placed pressure underneath the spear, forcing it upwards. The moogle stepped up underneath the weapon, and quickly slashed out with the Avuir Blue.

Maxwell jumped easily over the attack, and then one of his feet came forward. It slammed up under the moogle's chin, and stars exploded in Isaac's vision as he was lifted clean off of his feet and thrown back. He hit the ground hard, skidding along the cobblestones and through a few puddles. Isaac finally came to a rest as he thumped into a pillar supporting one of the massive arches leading up to the palace proper.

The moogle was rolling himself up to his feet when Maxwell charged at him. Isaac, knowing that the bangaa would be coming, brought the Avuir Red up in a sharp upward slash, moonlight bursting from its edge and flying towards the charging bangaa. Maxwell immediately jumped to the side, letting the attack pass harmlessly to his side, before jumping again, thundering in towards Isaac with his spear's point leading.

The mogknight turned, bending his legs and bending back at the waist. He actually felt the tip of the spear tear a small rip in his sleeve before slamming into the pillar. Isaac threw his hand holding the Avuir Blue out behind him, placing it against the ground for balance as Maxwell hit the pillar, crouching against the side of it. The bangaa had his feet flat against the structure, using them to absorb the momentum of his leap.

Suddenly, there was that incredible sensation again, the feeling of everything leaning in. Isaac turned slightly, sweeping the Avuir Red up from its awkward position. In an instant, a full charge of Ultima had gathered along its length as it came in at the bangaa's exposed side.

All of the muscles in the bangaa's legs shot out straight at once, even as Isaac's voice cut through the roar of his building attack. "_Ultima_!" Maxwell took off, tucking his legs up and out of the way of the blade as it slammed into the column.

A massive cloud of dust burst out from the point of impact, along with shards of rocks. Isaac's blade kept slicing and slicing, not meeting any resistance as the charge of Ultima tore the rock asunder. His weapon passed all the way through, and Isaac turned with the momentum. Already in an off-balance position from the start of his attack, Isaac was forced to roll with the movement, moving away from the column.

This, as it turned out, was a good thing. As the moogle came back up to his feet, he heard a long, low creaking sound coming from behind him. He turned back to the column and saw stress cracks appearing all across the structure. They ran up and down, all along the aged stone. The largest cracks all appeared along the top of the arch. In that one moment that Isaac was watching, he saw a few large chunks of rock already beginning to fall from it.

Isaac cursed, and started backing off. Before he had even taken a full step, though, he felt an odd, slick coldness reach up and wrap around his ankle. He glanced down in surprise, and saw that one of the black tendrils he'd seen Max create was holding him. Before he could react, another tendril had risen up to grab at his other ankle, yanking it down sharply to the ground.

Isaac was about to slice down at the tendrils with his blades, but a sound made him glance back up. The moogle's eyes widened as he saw Maxwell standing on top of the groaning arch. The bangaa's eyes were locked on him, and even from that distance Isaac could see the focused rage on the face.

Maxwell moved suddenly, raising his spear over his head in both hands. He brought it down, and as it slammed into the arch, the hairline cracks all along the stone all grew wider and much more well-defined. It held together for one long second, groaning under the stress, and then the entire thing shattered into a thousand massive hunks of stone.

Isaac growled, and as the first boulders began crashing down around him, he jumped, flaring his wings out and flapping. The black tendrils pulled back at him, stretching out taught as they tried to keep him from escaping. The moogle brought the Avuir Red down in a fast sweep, crouching down and slashing through both of the tendrils in a single motion.

The moogle glanced up, then threw himself to the side through the air, letting himself drop as a boulder flew by him. He hit the ground rolling, and as he came up to his feet, he was already running away from the crumbling arch. He glanced over his shoulder, and up above he saw Maxwell. The dragoon was pointing at a larger chunk of stone as he fell through the air, and suddenly another tendril of black energy flew from the bangaa's hand to grab onto the boulder. Maxwell flicked his fingers, and the tendril whipped its heavy load towards the moogle.

Isaac took a step back, already beginning to turn to run. As his foot came down, though, he felt that now-familiar cool feeling of one of the black tendrils. He moved to take his next step, thinking to try and wrench his foot free, but as soon as his other foot came down it, too, was grabbed by one of the tendrils.

The moogle's eyes flicked up to the boulder coming towards him. He didn't have enough time to slice through both tendrils and then dodge, too.

He sighed, and then the Avuir Blue slid back into its sheath.

As the boulder came in at him, he laid both hands on the hilt of the Avuir Red, and waited. It wasn't long; no more than a second. Then, as the massive hunk of rock came in at him, he closed his eyes, and moved.

The red blade came up and around in a clean swipe, rainwater splattering off of its edge.

A shock ran up Isaac's arms as the steel made contact with the stone, and then there was a horrendous screeching sound that rang out above the sounds of the storm. In Isaac's mind, it felt like the sound lasted for hours, and all the while the red blade was vibrating in his hands, trying to break free from his grip and escape.

In reality, though, the sound lasted less than a second. It was followed by a loud whoosh, and then wind billowed through Isaac's fur, coming from both sides of him.

The moogle opened his eyes again as the two halves of the massive boulder crashed to the ground behind him. His chest heaved with the effort of having cut the boulder in half, but he couldn't keep the grin from his face as he muttered, "At least she managed to teach me something, kupo."

Isaac reached down with the blade towards the blackness wrapped around his ankles, and sliced through it with two deft motions. He then backed off further from the still collapsing pillar, and cast his eyes about, trying to find Maxwell.

It was just as the moogle was getting clear of the dangerous zone from the collapsing pillar that he happened to glance into the air behind him. A curse ripped from his throat, and he turned hard, crossing his blades over his head. Maxwell's spear slammed into them as he hit the ground from another jump. The force of the impact pushed Isaac back several steps, stumbling off-balance. The bangaa followed quickly, launching a quick series of thrusts with his spear to try and take advantage of his opponent's weakness.

Isaac had to move his feet quickly to keep from falling backwards. His blades danced through the air in front of him, only just managing to pick off the bangaa's attacks. They went back several meters like this, Isaac miraculously staying on his feet all the way. Finally, though, he knew he either had to find a way to take Maxwell off of the offensive, or he would end up skewered.

So, on his next step back, Isaac threw all of his weight behind the Avuir Red. It swiped forward, and rang hard off of the bangaa's spear. Even with Maxwell surprised by the strength of the attack, Isaac was forced to follow through fully with the attack, turning and losing his balance.

Fortunately, the strike was hard enough that it put Maxwell off-balance for a moment. Isaac used this opportunity, and kept spinning, not worrying to set for his landing. Instead, he kept turning until his blue blade came back around. Moonlight burst from its tip, and flew out towards Maxwell.

The bangaa actually had to jump back to dodge that attack. He wasn't concerned, though, and for good reason. Even as Maxwell stumbled to regain his balance, Isaac was hitting against the ground quite hard. The moogle let out a small grunt of pain, and began pushing himself back up to his feet.

Maxwell didn't intend to give him the chance, though. He managed to set his feet under himself, and then rushed forward, raising his spear for the kill.

Something slammed into him from the side. For a moment, it felt like somebody had run up and punched him, and Maxwell almost wanted to laugh at the idea of somebody trying to hurt him with just their fists. An instant later, though, a sharp pain ran up through his side from the point where he'd been hit.

The bangaa turned and glanced curiously at his side, and was somewhat surprised to see the hilt of a knife sticking out of his side.

He had little time to react to it, though. An instant after he realized what it was sticking out of him, Thomas leapt over a piece of debris from the pillar. The juggler whipped one more dagger at the bangaa, and Maxwell turned on instinct, intercepting it with his spear.

Then the moogle was upon him, two daggers in his hands. Maxwell twirled his spear in his hands, bringing it around in fast and sweeping arcs to block dozens of quick slices from the two weapons. Thomas pushed on undaunted, fighting with brutal precision.

Shortly after the two of them started, Isaac joined in as well. The moogle was moving with a limp that probably would have proven fatal if Thomas hadn't been helping with the fight. As it was, the moogles' four weapons kept the bangaa more than occupied.

Despite their apparent advantage, though, Thomas was troubled. Normally, when one of his knives connected, he made a kill. He'd taken down fully armoured bangaa with a single flick of his wrist before; however, he'd just hit Maxwell in a place unprotected by armour, and the bangaa was still standing. More than that, Thomas had actually wound up for that throw. It had been one of his harder ones.

Abruptly, Maxwell took a short jump back, placing him out of range of both moogles. Before either of them could do anything, he drew his spear back, and energy began amassing at its tip. Thomas began moving forward, thinking that he could prevent the attack, but Isaac knew better.

The brown moogle brought the flat of the Avuir Red around and slapped it against Thomas's side. The force of the blow threw the lighter moogle out to the side. As Maxwell brought the spear forward, Isaac threw himself back in the opposite direction. The bangaa's voice called out, "_Ultima!_" and the energy discharged into the ground.

Isaac made sure to land on his good leg from his jump, and then rushed in at Maxwell again, not wanting to give him the offence. The bangaa turned to meet his charge, and their weapons rang off of each other in a quick, brutal exchange.

Somehow, both of them came to the decision to not give any ground. Each one set their feet in strong stances, and for that time only their weapons moved, ringing off of each other. Both of them kept their heads lowered slightly against the heavy rain, but their eyes never wavered from looking at each other.

They didn't stop until a blinding flash suddenly went up several dozen meters away from them. It was accompanied by a roaring the likes of which both of them had seldom heard. An odd ripple passed through the falling rain, almost as if the wind grew stronger on it for an instant.

Both of them turned to look, though they kept their weapons pressed against each other. As the light cleared, they could just make out two figures in the distance. Marche and Llednar were slowly pacing each other. The two knights looked nothing like they had at the beginning. Each was soaked to the skin with rain, and their armour glistened with the moisture. Burn marks and dents adorned the formerly pristine metal. Their chests were heaving, and both were bleeding from more than a few gashes on their bodies.

Lightning flashed in the sky, and then the two humans were moving. Their swords clashed, and Marche brought his shield around to punch at Llednar's head. The biskmatar turned his body, letting the blow clang uselessly off of the armour over his shoulder. He tugged his sword back from Marche's, and then swung at the paladin's side.

Marche moved with grace that his heavy plate armour wouldn't have suggested. He leapt back, and the biskmatar's weapon came up short. The paladin came back in, and his knightsword slammed into Llednar's shield.

Llednar held the block, setting his legs. His arms shook with the effort for a few long moments, and then, abruptly, he slammed his own sword forward, and pushed with both of his hands against the other knight.

Marche held his ground for a few long seconds, before he gave ground, stumbling back free. He swiped out with his knightsword, and Llednar hung back out of its range. Instead, the biskmatar narrowed his eyes, and raised his knightsword.

Even among the darkness of the storm, Isaac and Maxwell made out the gloom gathering along the biskmatar's sword. A moment later, they each felt the tug of powerful magic, and suddenly the human's weapon grew many times its size as the darkness wrapped around its length. By the time Marche regained his footing, only the hilt of Llednar's sword remained uncovered by the blackness, and the blade itself was almost as tall as he was.

Marche eyed the biskmatar, releasing his grip on his shield. The paladin gripped his knightsword in both hands, and held it ready before him.

"You aren't invincible, Llednar. If you use that attack to tear a hole in the engagement, then you could die too."

"Yes… but that would require you to survive my attack and land that killing blow."

Marche's grip tightened visibly on his sword. "Come on, then."

The two of them charged, but Isaac and Maxwell were drawn away from the fight when Thomas suddenly yelled out, "Isaac, now!"

The brown moogle moved immediately, swiping out at Maxwell. The bangaa jumped back in surprise, letting the attack fall short. At the same time, Llednar began running towards Marche, his black sword rising.

As Maxwell leapt back, he heard a sound behind him, and turned. Thomas was coming in at his back with both knives leading. Being slightly off balance, Maxwell was forced to turn uncomfortable, and simply lower his spear to block whereas he normally might have tried to counterattack before Thomas could reach him.

Marche began moving as well. His own knightsword came down and back, and a blindingly bright light began gathering at its base. It was so intense that even the lightning flashes seemed dim next to it. The paladin held his position as the Biskmatar advanced.

As Maxwell's weapon came down, Thomas suddenly released both of his knives. The bangaa was too surprised to react as the moogle grabbed onto the spear's shaft, and then used it as a handhold to flip up and over the dragoon's shoulder.

Llednar came in hard and fast, and suddenly his weapon was moving, the blackness slicing through the air. Wherever it passed, the air itself grew darker, losing some of its sheen. Marche was already moving, though, diving forward. He passed under the biskmatar's arm as it came down, tearing a hole through the engagement.

Maxwell turned his head, and bared his fangs as the moogle passed by him. On instinct, he felt fire building deep in his chest, beginning to pour forth at the white moogle.

Llednar's sword smashed into the ground where Marche had been standing, and abruptly a massive chunk of it just disappeared. All of the space that it had occupied was filled with that same, odd lack of lustre that Llednar's attack had left in the air behind it. His weapon was still carrying that charge of Omega as he began turning to face Marche again.

Abruptly, something hit Maxwell hard from behind. He stumbled to keep on his feet, and the small burst of flames that left his mouth simply went out wide into the rain. As he stumbled, through, he felt a pressure on his shoulder, and then the weight from the strap attached there diminished.

Marche was already up on his feet, and as soon as Llednar began turning, he lunged forward, slamming his shoulder into the biskmatar's side. Llednar stumbled back, caught off balance, and fell into the small pit his attack had just made.

Maxwell turned, and Isaac was right behind him. The bangaa growled in annoyance, and lunged in with his spear in both hands. Isaac, however, simply leapt back, and did something very odd. The moogle released his grip on both of his blades, and let the fall to the cobblestones without a second thought. He then reached up to the belts holding their sheaths, and undid their buckles, also letting them fall. Then, he turned, and nodded to Thomas, who stood a few feet away from him.

As Llednar fell back, he swiped out wildly with his knightsword towards Marche. A blast of dark energy ripped free from it, flying towards the paladin. Marche, however, simply ducked under it, then jumped down the pit after the biskmatar, letting his glowing sword lead him into the tear in the engagement. The weapon's brilliancy immediately grew a hundredfold, and Marche had to lid his eyes as he came down towards the biskmatar.

Thomas stood several feet away from the bangaa and the other moogle. Much to Maxwell's shock, he carried two blades, identical to each other in every way. The bangaa reached up to his shoulder, where he kept the Materia Blades sheathed, and found both of the sheaths empty. Wordlessly, Thomas tossed one of the swords to Isaac. The mogknight twirled the weapon easily in his palm, and then held it ready, pointing it towards Maxwell. "En garde."

Llednar roared out, holding his sword out before him as he hit the ground, thinking that Marche might just misjudge and impale himself on the weapon. The paladin, however, easily knocked the knightsword out of the way with his own, and then came down. His blinding weapon touched against the biskmatar's chest, and then Llednar's back arched as a horrible scream left his lips. The sword of light slipped through his chest with little resistance, and then light began pouring out from the two humans, causing a minor explosion of brightness. Amidst that incredible light, the two fighters were no more than dark silhouettes, each one stock-still. The horrible brightness went on for several long moments, blocking out all sound around them.

Then, very slowly, the black silhouette that was lying against the ground seemed to just… come apart. The darkness defining its form split and was scattered amongst the blinding light.

The incredible light immediately dimmed, before going out altogether. The rain sizzled as it hit the ground surrounding the large crater. There was silence all throughout the square, but for the natural sounds of the rain and the thunder.

Throughout it all, Isaac and Maxwell kept their gaze steady on each other. Even as Thomas reacted to the incredible light display that Marche and Llednar's fight had stirred up, the two of them remained passive.

Then, slowly, Maxwell growled, and let go of the spear. It clattered against the cobblestones, and the dragoon then reached to pull free the extra blade he carried. He dropped it next to his spear, and then held out a hand to Thomas.

The juggler wordlessly tossed him the other blade. Maxwell caught it easily, and stood ready, glaring at Isaac.

The two didn't move as Marche climbed free of the hole, and began limping over towards the trio. There was steam rising off of his armour and his sword as he moved, and he had to use the weapon as a crutch. He paused only once, to scoop his shield up from the ground.

As Marche reached them, they all heard the heavy clumping of a chocobo's feet. Marche and Thomas turned to face Cid as the judgemaster rode up through the rain. The man nodded his helmed head, then spoke.

"All of the Palace's forces but for Maxwell the Dragoon have been vanquished."

"Good," Marche replied, before glancing back to Isaac. "I don't know how much use I'll be, but the rest of my clan should—"

"You should all go ahead and fight the Queen," Isaac interrupted. "Take Thomas with you, kupo; you'll need him. You can end the engagement when you go."

His declaration was met with silence. Only Maxwell reacted, the dragoon's features twitching into a small smile as he nodded.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, kupo?" Thomas's eyes flicked between the two fighters. "I mean, you could barely keep up with him within the engagement. If you don't have a plan—"

"He has a plan." Maxwell's voice was cold, and his eyes hard behind that amused grin. "It is not a plan I would have expected from him, but it's a plan nonetheless."

"What's he talking about, Isaac?" Thomas glanced to the other moogle, but the mogknight simply reached up to tug the brim of his hat down against the wind.

"Are you familiar with the history of this place?" Maxwell asked. Not waiting for an answer, he went on, "The great Battle of Ambervale. Several centuries ago, a great war took place here between the forces of the king of the time and the outcast prince. All five of the Ultimates of that time took part in the battle… the prince himself was the Ultimate of the humans, and amongst his ranks were Martel of the viera and Sampson of the bangaa. The king numbered the Lini the Mogknight of the time and the Archmage Nanette of the nu mou. During the battle, Martel and Nanette met. The two of them ended up killing each other, and they took several hundred souls with them. In the aftermath of the battle, the prince committed suicide after realizing the horror his rebellion had caused. That left exactly two Ultimates alive after the battle."

"One bangaa," Marche murmured, "and one moogle."

There was silence for several long moments. Isaac didn't move from his position, holding the Materia Blade steadily before him.

Then, abruptly, Thomas snapped out, "So that's your plan, kupo! That's what all of this has been? A fricking murder suicide! What the hell kind of plan is that?"

"The Prophecy of Five Bloods has to be fulfilled for Li Grim to fall," Isaac replied simply. He nodded a bit towards Marche. "You do your end of the job, kupo. We'll do ours."

Marche nodded very slowly, and began walking away with Cid, heading back to where the rest of the clan had been fighting. Thomas hung back, though, still glaring at Isaac. The other moogle didn't meet his gaze, and finally the juggler shook his head.

"So this is it, kupo?"

Isaac took a deep breath. "They're going to need you in there, kupo. Get going."

Thomas held his ground for several more seconds. Then, finally, he shook his head, and began walking away muttering. Within moments, both his voice and his shape were lost amongst the rain.

Isaac and Maxwell stood, waiting for some time. Neither of them spoke for the long wait, both of them simply watching each other. They didn't pay any attention to their other weapons, left in the growing puddles on the cobblestones. The Materia Blades were the only equipment that either of them carried. Neither had even worn armour for the battle, each knowing that it would help them much anyways.

Finally, they both felt the power of the engagement field lifting all around them. The small wounds they'd both accumulated began healing, and they stood straighter as their energy returned. Both tensed, and their grips tightened on the blades.

"You're so willing to strike down your friend, moogle?"

"If Maxwell's in there, then I'll reach him. If he isn't, then you're just a raging monster, kupo. Regardless, I know my course of action."

The bangaa's eyes narrowed. "You might have won if the juggler had stayed with you."

"And you might have killed him."

"Li Grim will do that regardless."

"Then I'll just have to defeat you before she gets the chance, kupo."

There was a pause. "You are in over your head."

Isaac ignored the jab, and instead muttered, "You keep stalling, wyrm. Are you certain that you're not nervous?"

There was a growl, and then Maxwell lunged forward. Isaac raised his blade, and steel rang off of steel as the storm raged on around them.


	133. Red Heart

A/N: A couple things before we begin. As always, sorry this took so long.

More importantly, there are a couple very quick announcements. Firstly, I've gone back and edited a bunch of chapters, and I _finally_ filled in Quin's description in chapter 19. Only took me about five years.

Secondly, here's a little something that was emailed to me several months ago: postimage (dot) org/image/rjadzkdnl/ . Fanfiction filters out URLs in stories and reviews, so I'm sorry about you having to fill in the period.

Thirdly, this is not the last chapter of Casualties. We're getting close, though.

* * *

The group's footsteps echoed as they walked in from the storm. The ancient palace's entry chamber was massive. Unlike the exterior, which held only the slightest hints of its former glory, the interior of the palace still showed some clear signs of wealth. While many of the mosaics covering the floor were damaged, most of them still had discernable patterns on them. A few of the cavernous windows still had bits of glass hanging from them, and many of them still had the coloured shards of broken stained glass littered beneath them.

Trails leading through layers upon layers of dust showed all of them that there had indeed been people living here over the past few months. They entered hesitantly, the relative quiet from within the palace unsettling after the sound of the storm outside.

As Caitlin let the massive stone door close behind them, Marche turned to Thomas. "Alright, you have a better idea of what we should expect than anybody else. Where are we headed?"

"That depends on what you want, kupo," Thomas replied. The juggler's voice was distant as he spoke, and his eyes kept dodging back to the double doors behind them. After a few moments of awkward silence, Marche cleared his throat, and Thomas jumped. "Sorry. The Queen normally sits in the throne room. It's probably about twice the size of this room, and we'll reach it if we follow all the doors leading directly ahead, kupo. If you want the prince, he'll be in the royal chambers; over in the East wing. I'll warn you, though: no matter where we go, the Queen will have defences set up. Our fighting is far from over."

"So what's our target then, leader?" Caitlin asked. She had paused to shake out her red cape, getting the dust free from it. She adjusted her chainmail, and then laid her hands to the hilts of her swords.

Marche stood silent for a few long seconds. He went over things in his head, and then spoke softly. "Mewt is the one we need. He holds all of the power. That said, if we try to go straight for him, the Queen will be on us in a heartbeat. So, we send most of our team to fight Remedi, and the rest are to try to retrieve Mewt and bring him." The human was quiet again, then went on. "I want everybody but Montblanc and Caitlin to distract the queen with me. Caitlin, you keep Montblanc and Mewt safe at all costs. Montblanc, make sure Mewt gets to me."

"When you fight the Queen, all four of you should focus on her," Thomas said, nodding to Marche, Guinness, Grans, and Vili. The seven of them began walking forward, their voices echoing back at them off of the walls. "I'll hold off her defences, kupo."

"You said that her forces were still quite substantial," Marche pointed out. "Are you sure that you'll be able to handle them alone?"

"No matter who or what she sends at me, I'll have an easier fight alone than the four of you will against her. Besides," the moogle shrugged, nodding at the doors up ahead, "if she gets close to me and has enough time to say even a word, I'm dead."

There was silence at the moogle's words. They continued moving forward, glad for the echoes in the massive chamber.

It wasn't until they reached about the centre of the chamber that Grans stiffened, and said, "Stop moving." Everybody tensed and reached for their weapons on instinct. The nu mou had her head tilted slightly to the side, and a look of intense concentration was etched across her features.

Marche began asking, "What is—" but Grans quickly cut him off with a gesture from her hand.

The seven of them stood in silence for a few more seconds. Gradually, they all became aware of a sound, slowly growing louder around them. It was an odd, chaotic sound; an entirely non-uniform thumping. The group slowly began bunching together and casting their eyes around the room, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from.

"Thomas?" Marche whispered.

"I have no idea, kupo."

Abruptly, as the moogle finished speaking, two doors that had been hidden along opposite walls swung open, scraping roughly against the ground. Even before they were finished opening, shapes began swarming through. At first, all that the clan could see were colours and shapes pouring into the room from either side.

Then Montblanc yelped out, "Monsters!" and the others immediately saw them. Dozens of monsters were swarming into the room, heading straight for them. All sorts of creatures were coming at them: antlions, ahrimans, lamias, panthers, flans, bladebiters, malboros, dragons and more. Together, they made a mad, multicoloured mass of writhing flesh and scales and fur that rolled in towards them.

Marche started bellowing orders, and everybody got into ready stances. Light flared up around them as Guinness prepared to cast, and the brightness shone off of the other's weapons.

Grans, however, began moving as soon as she realized what was happening. She released her whip, and then quickly shrugged the black case down from her shoulder. She laid it out on the ground, and snapped the latches up. Her hands went into the case, and then she stood up quickly. She carefully lifted a violin up, placing the rest gingerly beneath her chin. The instrument itself was made of extremely dark lacquered wood, almost black in colour. The strings at first seemed to be the same dark shade as the wood. However, as soon as she laid the bow against them, the strings lightened into a deep, pulsing red.

"It has been so long since I played a violin," she murmured, seemingly oblivious to the horde of monsters closing in on either side of them. She closed her eyes, and then the bow began dancing across the strings.

The sound resonated off of the bare walls, bouncing back at them. The massive chamber had incredible acoustics, and the clarity of the sound only enhanced the magic worked into the music. The nu mou played a sharp, heavy song, her bow cutting hard across the strings. The effect was immediate.

Throughout the ranks of monsters, all of the panthers and coeurls abruptly turned away from the group in the middle of the chamber. Instead, they fell upon the other monsters, leaping at them and tearing at them with their claws.

No sooner had they started attacking than Grans's song changed abruptly, dropping sharply in tempo and pitch. As the new song rang out over the echoes of the previous one, all of the rockbeasts in the mass of monsters began moving in concert with each other, clumping together in bunches that blocked the paths of the other monsters as much as possible. Even as they were moving, though, the great hunting cats began pulling themselves off of their victims, returning instead to advancing on the group.

"We should be able to take them on like this," Marche reasoned, hefting his knightsword. "Try to make quick work of them."

"No," Grans said. Everybody looked to her in surprise. Her eyes were still shut and creased with concentration as she kept playing. Every now and again, her song would change midnote, and a new group of monsters would begin rebelling. Despite her concentration, though, she still managed to say, "We don't have the time or the energy to waste fighting off a horde of monsters. Besides, there are more coming. I can feel them."

"We aren't just going to leave you here."

"You most certainly will," she returned briskly. "I won't be much use against Li Grimm, anyways. You all go, and I'll handle this for you."

Marche hesitated for a very long moment. Then he nodded, and glanced to the others. "Let's go."

Everybody else began heading for the door again, moving quickly as Grans kept the monsters busy. Only Guinness hung back, watching the other nu mou playing for a few moments.

"Long reflective moments don't suit you, Guinny."

The mage couldn't hold back a grin at that. "Why not? I'm an old man you know, Trudy."

Grans snorted at that. "In body, maybe. Your mind has always been young."

Guinness glanced away at that. Then, he muttered, "I shouldn't wait long. Don't let these monsters beat you."

"Don't you worry about me. You just focus on taking care of your clanmates. Despite your best efforts to be otherwise, you're a good man, Guinness."

"And you're the most difficult old hag I've ever had the pleasure of adventuring with."

With that, Guinness turned, and followed after the others quickly. As soon as he left her, Grans fell fully into her music, focusing on the sound and the motions. Her fingers slipped along the strings, and she ignored where the monsters were. At this point, all she had to do was give them small suggestions, and they would do all the work for her. She couldn't be bothered to offer detailed messages to them, not with so many coming at her at once. Yes… this could be a challenge.

She plucked a string, and then cut off into another song abruptly, not even noticing as the heavy doors at the end of the chamber swung shut behind Guinness.

* * *

Isaac ducked under Maxwell's swing, and then leapt back, getting himself back out of range. Even as he moved, he swung out with his own weapon, and silvery light burst from it. Maxwell was forced to block the mog lance, giving Isaac time to put a bit more distance between himself and the bangaa.

Isaac's feet came down on the slick cobblestones, and he cursed as he felt his back foot hanging partially over empty space. Maxwell had already backed him up to the edge of the platform.

Abruptly, the bangaa came in, his blade leading. Isaac cursed again, but met the attack, bringing his own weapon up to intercept. The two weapons ran off of each other, sending vibrations running up each of their arms. Isaac ducked under Maxwell's next attack, and then brought his own weapon up in a slash.

Maxwell hopped backwards, and then paused to suck in a deep breath. He blew hard, and lightning crackled from his mouth. Isaac yelped, and threw himself backwards without hesitation. The breath attack slammed into the ground, crackling over the slick stones for a few moments. Then, abruptly, the rocks split, bursting outwards.

As Isaac fell backwards through open air, he was forced to swing out with his blade, having to bat several chunks of stone away from himself. He let himself drop for half of a second, and then leaned back violently, spreading his wings. They managed to catch the wind, and then he was swooping backwards, away from Maxwell.

The bangaa was close behind, though. He stepped forward, and jumped, his powerful legs rocketing him towards the retreating moogle. Within a moment, he'd caught up to him, and Isaac leaned back forwards to meet him. The Materia Blades clashed off of each other in the air, and then again and again. The strikes slowed Maxwell's incredible momentum, keeping him from simply bowling Isaac over, and the moogle's steady wingbeats backwards kept him out of range.

The two of them kept pace with each other through the air for a few long seconds, weapons flashing out and cutting through the rain. Then, abruptly, Maxwell's hand flashed out to grab onto the front of the moogle's shirt. Isaac yelped; he hadn't even seen the bangaa move.

Then, Maxwell turned sharply, and whipped Isaac downwards.

The moogle cried out, and flailed to try and right himself. He turned, just catching sight of the stone steps below from the corner of his eyes, and then his wings came out again. The muscles in his shoulders and down across his chest all screamed with the effort of killing his momentum, but he held himself rigid. For a few long moments, he simply fell, slowing slightly, but still going more than fast enough to hurt himself.

The moogle steeled himself, and then, just before he hit the ground, he folded his wings up. His feet touched against the slick stones, and he immediately balled up, knowing he wouldn't hold his footing at that speed. He fell hard, gritting his teeth as he bounced off the sharp edges of the stairs several times. Then, abruptly, he hit flat ground, and he slid along that for a few meters through the puddles.

As soon as he came to a stop, he scrabbled up to his feet. From both his own dizziness and the wetness of the stones, he stumbled a few steps, nearly falling again. Above him, he could just make out Maxwell against the dark clouds, ending his jump atop one of the taller buildings ringing the raised square.

Isaac finally got his feet underneath him firmly, and kept moving. He had a few aches from his fall, but otherwise he was fine. He kept his eyes trained on the building he'd seen Maxwell land on, and waited.

When Maxwell finally came, Isaac's eyes narrowed. The dragoon had jumped off the top of the building, a good five or six stories up, and was plummeting towards him. Isaac's paw tightened on the hilt of his blade, and he kept moving, knowing that he had to at least try to keep Maxwell off-balance.

His plans changed abruptly, though, as the bangaa's chest filled with air. Isaac stared up, surprised. Maxwell was still too far away to use one of his normal breath attacks… so that meant that he could only be using his empowered dragonfire…

The dragoon rocked his chest forward, and fire erupted from his jaws, pouring forth in a massive jet. Isaac yelped, and then dove, rolling across the ground. He felt the impact as the flames hit the ground behind him, and the rainwater all around him burst into steam.

The moogle came back up to his feet, and ran, slipping occasionally on the wet cobblestones. The pillar of flames moved along behind him, quickly closing the gap. Within seconds, the fur on the back of Isaac's neck was entirely dry from the heat. When Isaac felt the flames tickling at the back of his feet, he cursed, and then dove sideways through the empty doorway of the one of the buildings.

It was dark in the building; even more so after the intense light of Maxwell's attack. Isaac kneeled there on the ground for a moment, catching his breath. He reached his free hand over to a bruise on his opposite forearm, and silver light spread into tender skin. He remained like that, eyes shut, waiting for Maxwell to find him.

Abruptly, one of the walls of the building burst apart, sending light and massive hunks of stone flooding across the floor. Isaac killed his healing, and rolled out of the way of a few of the larger chunks. He came back up to his feet, and stared over at the gaping hole in the wall.

Maxwell casually stepped through his improvised entrance, dust still billowing around him. He grinned as his eyes settled on Isaac.

"Are you regretting your decision, yet?"

"Hardly, kupo," Isaac replied, trying to conceal how heavily he was already panting. "I've barely started, and you've already wasted one of your trump cards."

Maxwell raised an eyebrow at the moogle, confused. Then, he nodded suddenly, chuckling. "Ah, yes, you're referring to the dragon flames back there? Well yes, Maxwell could only use them once a day… I regret to inform you, though, that with my added power, he can manage quite a few of those blasts."

Isaac stared at the bangaa for several long seconds, his mouth hanging partially open. Seeing this, Maxwell chuckled, shaking his head.

"You were right to send the others on ahead, you know. Together, all of you couldn't have defeated me. It is a pity, though…" The bangaa twirled the blade in his hands, looking down at it casually. "I had hoped to test my mettle against the Alchemist." Isaac stiffened noticeably, but the bangaa went on. "She seemed like she might have put up at least a bit of a challenge before that spell extinguished her. I guess I won't be adding the Zeus Mace to my collection of Ultimate weapons, though."

Isaac couldn't hold back a growl. The bangaa glanced back up to him, and a small smirk crossed those draconic features. For a long second, the two just stared at each other.

Then, Isaac sprang forward. Electricity erupted along the length of his blade, and Maxwell raised his own weapon, getting a matching current of energy along its edge just in time to block.

* * *

Montblanc watched the rest of the team filing through the door, counting anxiously in his head to make sure all of them were there. He finally relaxed as Guinness entered the hallway, and Caitlin began barring the door. Marche was already turning to look at Thomas.

"Alright, where to from here?"

Thomas glanced around quickly, and then pointed to a door over on the right. "The team going to find Mewt should head through there. Your best bet would be to follow that passage, and then go down the stairs on your left. It'll lead you into the crypts, which cut a much more direct path to the living quarters. The rest of us will head forward down this hallway to the throne room."

Marche nodded, then turned to Caitlin and Montblanc. "Alright. You two know your jobs." The human hesitated for a long moment. Then, he reached out, and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "Please be safe."

Beside Montblanc, Caitlin snorted, and raised an eyebrow at the paladin. "Why you getting worried for us? You're the ones that are about to take on a god."

As Caitlin headed for the door, Montblanc shrugged, and turned to follow. He paused, though, when Marche's grip tightened on his shoulder. The moogle glanced back to his friend, and was surprised by just how serious the look on the human's face was.

"What, kupo?"

"Remember. You follow Caitlin's orders, and if she tells you to get away, you get away."

Montblanc was silent for a moment, caught off-guard by how his friend was acting. Then, he forced a smile onto his face. "You're saying that like you don't trust me, kupo."

"You're my best friend," the paladin muttered, then rolled his eyes. "Of course I don't trust you."

Neither of them could hold back a chuckle at that. Montblanc reached up and placed his hand on top of Marche's. "Don't worry. I know what my job is in this, kupo. I'll see you in a while."

This time, when Montblanc turned to leave, Marche didn't stop him. The moogle followed Caitlin through the doorway, and saw that she was already halfway down the hallway. He jogged to catch up to her, casting his eyes around as he did so.

After the entry chamber, the state of the castle had improved drastically. Particularly in passages like this one, which had no windows, the marks of the passage of time were less obvious, and far less damaging. There were still a few shreds of tapestries hanging from poles along the walls. The stone was much less worn, and as such was darker and much smoother than the stones in the rest of the castle. A few of the pillars worked into the wall still had a soft, smooth sheen to them.

Montblanc caught up to Caitlin as she reached the stairs leading down. Wordlessly, the two of them descended, spiralling downwards as the air grew cooler around them. The light waned as they descended, and eventually they stopped while Montblanc fetched a torch out of his enchanted pack. As soon as they'd struck it up, they continued, making one more circuit before they reached the bottom.

They came out into a passage that ran off to the left. As they set off again, Caitlin took the lead, her hands never far from the hilts of her weapons. They moved slower now, the cold and the dark beyond their flickering light making both of them feel uneasy.

Abruptly, the passage widened out in front of them. They moved forward, and Montblanc cautiously raised his torch. The two of them paused as the large room was fully revealed. This must have been the proper crypt; its ceiling was a few feet higher than the passage they'd just been in, and it was a good deal wider. Arranged regularly throughout the room were long rectangles of stone; it didn't take either of them long to realize that they were tombs. Names, titles and dates were carved into the sides of each of the tombs, and many of them bore some sort of a crest or coat of arms on their tops.

Montblanc let his gaze wander around the crypt for a few moments, taking it all in. The door was directly opposite of their current position, and the tombs were arranged in such a way that they had a straight, unobstructed path towards it. He began taking a step forward, but stopped as Caitlin held out a hand. Knowing better than to ask for an explanation, the moogle waited, his large ears pricking as they listened for noise.

Finally, after several long seconds of silence, Caitlin spoke.

"I can feel you. You may as well come out."

Her words were met with silence. After a pause, though, Caitlin stiffened, and turned to look into the darkness beyond the torch's light. Montblanc followed her gaze, and tried to raise the torch higher, but he couldn't make anything out.

Suddenly, a voice spoke from the darkness. "How marvellous to see you again."

Next to Montblanc, Caitlin's hands immediately went to the handles of her weapons. Her voice was sharp as she spoke. "Montblanc, get away from here."

"What's going on, kupo?"

"Nothing for you to get involved with. Go."

Montblanc turned to look at Caitlin, about to speak, but he hesitated when he saw her face. Her forehead was wrinkled with concentration, and her eyes were half closed. He took a step away from her, and cast his eyes into the shadows where she'd been looking a moment before. "Who is that, kupo?"

"Oh, let him stay, Caity. There aren't many that have witnessed two warriors with the third eye of combat fighting."

Montblanc felt his pulse rising, and he glanced over to Caitlin again. She cut him off before he could speak.

"Go. Find Mewt. Don't come back this way."

The moogle didn't have to be told again. He turned, and started running for the far door. Just as he reached the midway point, though, he felt movement in the air. Something reared up out of the darkness right next to him, and as he began turning to face it, something hit him in the side. He was lifted clean off of his feet, and flew through the air towards the far doorway. Behind him, steel rang off of steel.

Montblanc hit the ground hard, and rolled. He glanced back over his shoulder, and could only stare for a few moments.

Caitlin was crossing swords with a man. Montblanc couldn't make out much of him: he had long dark hair, and dark skin. Any other details were impossible to discern as Caitlin and the man moved with terrifying speed and precision, their weapons ringing off of each other. The man carried a single sword, and it moved cleanly in his hands from one position to another, deflecting all of Caitlin's attacks effortlessly. Caitlin's movements seemed just as relaxed; almost as if she wasn't thinking about the movements, and was instead performing them out of habit.

Despite the relaxed stances, though, the strikes that the two of them were making against each other were clearly heavy. Every time that the weapons met, sparks leapt. At one point, Caitlin ducked under one slash, and the man's sword sliced the corner of one of the stone tombs clean off.

The most terrifying part of the whole battle, though, was the way that the two combatants kept their eyes shut the entire time. Their faces were entirely placid, and neither showed any emotion at all as they kept up the intense pace of combat.

Montblanc swallowed. He'd never seen Caitlin give herself fully over to her third eye before. He'd once asked Robert what it was like, but the stoic bangaa templar had refused to answer. Now, he had an idea of why.

The moogle licked dry lips. Then, he muttered, "You had better pull this off, Caitlin."

He turned, and began running down the hallway, leaving the sounds of battle behind him.

* * *

Isaac jumped cleanly over Maxwell's blade, and landed one stair up, bringing his own weapon forward. Maxwell ducked underneath, and Isaac took the opportunity to back up another step. The moogle's blade flashed forward again, and silvery light burst from its tip.

Maxwell kept his head down, letting the attack go high, and then came back up. He advanced on Isaac, but found the moogle's blade already cutting across at him. The bangaa blocked stiffly, and let a small, frustrated growl build in his throat.

The two of them had slowly been fighting up the floors of the abandoned building, leaving a trail of gaping holes and smashed walls in their wake. Whenever they were fighting through one of the floors, the fights were quite one-sided in Maxwell's favour. The low ceilings kept Isaac from using his wings, but it was easy for Max to simply jump straight forward, either bowling Isaac over or forcing the moogle to dive painfully out of the way.

However, the staircases between the floors were a completely different matter. Both of them knew that if Maxwell got the chance to unleash his dragonflames in the narrow spaces, Isaac would have nowhere to dodge. However, the cramped quarters lent well to Isaac's tighter fighting style. Maxwell, who was used to broad sweeping motions and having lots of room to wind up, constantly found himself off-balance.

As such, their rushes up the staircases, as quick as they tended to be, were quite intense. Isaac pressed his advantage as hard as he could each time, and this was no exception. His weapon danced in tight and precise patterns in front of him, forcing the bangaa to keep blocking.

Isaac finally came out onto the top floor of the building, sending one last mog lance down at the bangaa. He skittered free, trying to get some space as Maxwell blocked and then followed him up.

The two stood there in silence for a few moments, each one panting for breath. Maxwell slowly took a step to the side, and Isaac followed his lead, putting the two of them into a slow, measured circle. They were quiet as they moved, each one focusing on catching their breath. Isaac's fingers kept flexing on the hilt of his blade. It was slick from both the rainwater outside and his own sweat, but his fingers had yet to slip on it. The stakes were too high for him to make a small mistake like that. He let his own eyes flick down to the hilt of Max's blade, and he watched as the bangaa occasionally loosened his grip, letting the weapon spin a bit before catching it again.

"You're outmatched, you know." Maxwell's voice was quiet. Isaac almost missed it amongst the sounds of the storm outside. "You won't win this fight."

"You might be right," Isaac replied. "It's pretty obvious that you're stronger than me. My only chance is for you to make a mistake."

"And how likely do you think that is?"

Isaac snorted at that, shaking his head. "Max is too reliable to do something like that. Even if your power has driven him mad, I doubt that that's changed."

The bangaa slowly raised an eyebrow at that. "Interesting. Who exactly do you think that you're speaking to? Maxwell or the Worldwyrm?"

"Doesn't matter much, does it? I don't know how it works in your head… if you're one consciousness tainted by the other, or two consciousnesses fighting for control, kupo, or really how it works at all. Regardless of which it is, I know Max holds at least some sway in there."

Abruptly, Maxwell lunged forward, bringing his blade across in a wide slash. As the weapon sliced through the air, flames leapt up all along its length, leaving a blazing arc in Isaac's vision. Isaac raised his own weapon, and blue mist burst out along it an instant before it met the bangaa's strike. Metal rang, and steam hissed out from the point of contact between the two weapons. The two of them held their strikes, leaning in despite the steam burning them.

Isaac suddenly changed the angle he was pushing at, forcing the bangaa's blade up a couple inches. He used the extra height to slip underneath the weapon, sliding his weapon free and bringing it around at Maxwell's back.

The dragoon turned sharply, bringing his own weapon down and around in an awkward block that left his body twisted uncomfortably. Isaac pressed his advantage, and brought his blade around in a chop at Maxwell's legs. The bangaa knew he couldn't block an attack from that angle, so instead he simply jumped, letting the weapon pass below him. He turned in the air, straightening out his body, and brought his foot around at Isaac.

The moogle saw the kick, and had just enough time to raised his blade in an awkward block. The foot slammed against the flat of the weapon, held across Isaac's chest. The force of the attack lifted Isaac clean off of his feet, and sent him falling backwards. He hit the ground hard, but managed to use the momentum to roll backwards and up to his feet. He staggered as he stood up, but he had his blade up and ready.

No attack came, though. Maxwell stood where he had after landing the kick, panting a bit after the short exchange. Isaac kept his blade raised just in case, and his eyes trained on the bangaa.

"Tell me." Isaac stiffened as the bangaa spoke. Maxwell was too calm; the moogle didn't like it. "What would you do if you actually defeated me? Do you truly think that you could make that killing blow?"

Isaac didn't respond. Truth be told, he didn't actually have an answer. There would be time to think of one later. For now, he simply said, "What happened to all that confidence? A minute ago you said that I would never be able to defeat you, kupo. You worried?"

Maxwell lowered his head, narrowing his eyes. "Hardly."

The bangaa came forward, then, and Isaac met his charge.

* * *

The small group was quiet as they stepped into Ambervale's grand throne room. It was a massive, arching room, with two levels to it. There was a front standing area with pale grey granite floors and massive pillars reaching upward. Arching windows lined this area, the stained glass reaching all the way up to the distant ceiling. Thanks to the effects of dozens of powerful protective spells, the glass still stood undamaged in all of these windows, and the non-faded colours were allowed to pain portraits of light across the floor.

A wide, sweeping staircase led up to the second level of the room, which served almost as a gallery. Here, the colour of the granite lightened to the white of marble, contrasting with the dark bluish stone of the pillars lining the room. These pillars formed a path down the centre of that level to the massive sculpture that made up the back wall of the throne room.

Made of stone, the image had been covered in finely worked and well-burnished white gold. It gleamed brightly enough that the four of them had to shelter their eyes as they stared. IT was in the form of a heavily robed woman, her eyes downcast as her hair hung from the corners of her hood. Her hand was held out, emerging from the folds of her cloak as though from water. The fingers were cupped upwards; perfectly shaped as though to accept a gift.

The actual throne stood directly beneath this outstretched hand. The chair was of the same marble as the rest of the floor; indeed, as they looked at it, they all realised that it was actually _part _of the floor. The chair itself reached up several metres, but was otherwise quite plain.

Seated in this chair, lounging as though she was bored, was Remedi. As soon as they entered, the queen glanced up, and slowly raised an eyebrow.

"So you've finally made it," she said. Marche, at the head of their quartet, tensed.

"This is it, Remedi. It ends today."

"Yes, it does, doesn't it?" she said. Slowly, she stood and stretched. "You know, I find it strange that there are those who still count you as the hero in this."

"Excuse me?"

"Think about it. Think of what you've been willing to sacrifice. How many lives have been lost for your sake? And all for what? Isaac won't defeat Maxwell. You can't even hurt me."

"I never asked any of those people to die for me," Marche replied. "They all chose to in order to stop you. They knew that what you were doing was wrong, and they were willing to die to stop it."

"And what about the real reason behind all of this?" she countered. "You want to steal away happiness from everyone you care about. For what? An ideal?"

"It started about that." Marche hesitated for a few seconds. "It's true, my actions might have started this… but regardless of that, your reactions are what brought the rest of Ivalice into this. Mewt needs to face reality, whether it's the reality of his life in St Ivalice or the reality of the consequences of his actions here."

"Well then… why delay the inevitable?"

With that, she reached out a hand. All four of them tensed, but they had no chance to move before a small kernel of blackness leaked out of her hands. The darkness moved forward, splitting into two beams of darkness partway down the room. The twin streaks of blackness washed forward, spilling over the banister that separated the upper and lower sections of the room. They collided with the granite floor, and where they touched the stone reared up, twisting bizarrely. Thomas and the three clan members instinctively pulled in closer to each other as they watched the odd shapes rising, gradually gaining definition.

Within moments, both of the lumps of stone had reached up to be twice the height of an average bangaa, towering over the four companions. Once they reached that height, the stone began pulling in, forming into vague outlines of limbs which gradually became more defined.

On the left, huge plates of thick armour came in, hiding any of the details underneath. As the stone pulled in further, the armour took on a silvery gleam, quickly shifting from granite to highly burnished steel. Intricate gilt patterns adorned the plates, and their complex interlay immediately reminded the four companions of veins. Up top, the shape bulked out, going from relatively scrawny armoured legs to a barrel chest. A full helm covered the figure's face, concealing any features. The thing slowly moved as the granite that had formed it stopped shifting. It lifted a massive iron pot up to its shoulder with remarkable ease, hefting it there comfortably. The pot was connected to its wrist via a thick chain, keeping it well attached.

The mass of granite on the right pulled in to form far less graceful or even lines. These ones became rough and jagged very quickly, sharp edges sticking out. While it still had a distinctly humanoid form and remained just as tall as the other figure, in all other respects it was vastly different. The creature's legs bulged outward with muscles, completely unblocked by any form of armour. Its upper half was equally uncovered, baring the rough outlines of thick muscles and thick scales. Up top, the creature's face began pulling out and forming into a long, boxy muzzle. As its mouth opened, long and sharp teeth formed.

Marche found himself licking his lips. He gripped his sword tighter, and then glanced over at Guinness. "Do those look familiar to you, too?"

"Indeed," the old mage replied. He was already rolling up the sleeves of his purple robes, and white and black fire was beginning to dance along his fingers. "We've most certainly fought them before."

"Famfrit and Adrammalech." At Marche's words, Vili glanced over, her face blanching.

"Both of them?" she demanded, looking from Marche to Guinness, and then back to the two forms. Colour was filling in, and their movements were growing less slow. The confident viera couldn't keep the tremor from her voice as she asked, "Are they on par with Mateus?"

"Just about," Guinness confirmed.

"So… can we take them, then?"

"You don't get to find out, kupo." Thomas's voice was low and even. The other three glanced to him, and were surprised to see that the juggler had both of his daggers out, holding one in a stabbing position as he sized the two totema up. "The three of you get to the top level. I'll hold these two down here."

"You can't fight two totema at once!" Marche snapped. "It takes all of Clan Nutsy to defeat one!"

"This was the plan, paladin." Thomas kept his gaze trained on the two figures as they moved, still somewhat sluggishly, to lift their feet away from the granite they'd been formed from. "You can't spare anybody to fight these two with me, kupo. The three of you are already outmatched against the Queen. But if the Queen ends up getting to me, I'm dead, and if these two interrupt your fight with the Queen, you're dead. Personally, kupo, I'd prefer it if all of us made it out of here alive."

Marche watched the moogle for a long moment, clearly thinking it over. Finally, he sighed, and nodded to the other two. "Let's go."

The three of them moved quickly, passing between the two nearly-formed totema. As the trio passed the two figures, Vili suddenly vanished from view. Marche and Guinness didn't even react to this. The two of them simply started up the steps, the human readying his knightsword and the nu mou gathering his energy.

Thomas watched them until they reached the top of the staircase. Then, he returned his attention to the two totema. He found his eyes drawn over to Famfrit as the great figure finally detached Itself fully from the ground. For some reason, the juggler found that he couldn't look away from the figure.

Abruptly, the heavily armoured totema looked up, and though Thomas couldn't see anything past that massive helm, he somehow knew that Famfrit's eyes were locked on his.

The moogle licked his dry lips, and then muttered, "I thought that the five of you were supposed to represent the wills of the people, kupo. It's pretty clear that the majority of the people in this world don't support the Queen."

"Our responsibilities are many." The voice that spoke nearly made Thomas fall over backwards. It wasn't a single voice; instead, it was a voice built of millions upon millions of others, all speaking at once. Amongst them, Thomas could just pick out the voices of Isaac, July, Montblanc, Lini, and Carl. For a moment, he almost thought he heard his own voice speaking to him as the totema went on. "We draw our power from the collective will of our people, yes. But our first responsibility is to defend this world from its destruction."

"We first attempted to do that by defending the worldthreads." The other figure, now fully realized as the great dragon Adrammalech, said these words. Its voice was just as powerful as Famfrit's, but not quite as disorienting to Thomas. "After those fell, the next most important target to defend was the Queen herself."

"So now the five of you are fighting against those who provide your power, kupo?"

"Such was the vow we swore when we chose to become guardians of this realm," Adrammalech answered. Its voice was lower than before; almost as though It was annoyed. "And not all five of us defend the Queen. Exodus' strength was spent when It merged fully with Its avatar and was defeated."

"Ultima was wise enough to foresee such a possibility as this," Famfrit went on. "In giving a portion of Its strength to the five ultimates of each generation, It guaranteed that Its power would only ever be directed by the wills of the five races. Besides, all five of Us have failsafes in place." Famfrit's eyeless gaze grew more intense as it glared at Thomas. "The five avatars were given to the peoples of Ivalice in order to give them the power to support their choices."

There was silence after that statement. Thomas finally tore his gaze away from Famfrit, and instead focused on Adrammalech. The great dragon was eying Its counterpart with open curiosity. Thomas wasn't sure how to react to the two totema's words. He couldn't help but get the feeling that Famfrit was expecting something from him.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of silence, Thomas spoke.

"Well, both of your avatars are fighting outside as we speak." The moogle's grip tightened on the two daggers, and he raised them in front of himself in an aggressive stance. "I'm certain that both of them could defeat you if they chose to, kupo. As it is, though, I'll just have to stand in for them."

And with those words, all three of them moved at once. Both of Famfrit's hands rose to the water pot balanced on Its shoulder. The totema braced Itself, and abruptly there was a roar as a beam of energy burst from the mouth of the pot.

Thomas dove hard, rolling as the granite burst apart behind him. He came up to his feet, both daggers still grasped in his hands, and took a step to run.

Immediately, Adrammalech reared up just in front of him, moving almost faster than the moogle could follow. The great dragon swept Its claws across at the moogle, and Thomas jumped clean over the swipe. He placed his feet down on the dragon's upper arm as he came down, and then jumped sideways, turning and whipping a dagger at the dragon in midair.

Thomas continued his spin, not waiting to see if his attack had any effect on the totema. The moogle was already facing Famfrit as he landed, watching as the totema began twirling the pot around Its head via the chain. Thomas landed from his jump, and ran straight for Famfrit, knowing that he had to keep It off balance.

Famfrit flicked its wrist forward sharply, letting go of the chain. The massive pot flew towards Thomas, whistling through the air. The moogle's eyes narrowed, and he slammed his right foot against the ground hard enough that he almost twisted it. He fell sideways, and rolled out of the way of the gigantic pot. As soon as it had passed by, Thomas was back on his feet, rushing towards the Totema.

Famfrit raised Its heavily armoured arms as Thomas closed in, and the juggler's daggers clanged off of the metal. The totema swept a hand out at the moogle, but he jumped cleanly over the strike, bringing a hand around to whip a knife directly at the totema's helm in midair.

The weapon lanced in, and ricocheted off of the heavy helm with a sharp clang. Famfrit, acting as though It hadn't even felt the hit, turned sharply, bringing Its free arm across at Thomas. The juggler didn't have the time to pull out of the way in the midst of his jump, and so the heavily armoured elbow slammed into his side.

The blow sent the juggler flying. Thomas was too stunned to fully react until he slammed against the throne room's wall. As he collided, he let out a sharp, pained 'woof,' and then collapsed to the ground. He bent over double in his position, wheezing and clutching at his side where he'd been struck. For a few moments, he simply lay there, trying to regain his breath and kicking his legs as he fought back the pain of the blow.

As soon as he could, the moogle scrabbled unsteadily up to his feet. He'd lost both of his daggers after being struck, and so he quickly summoned two more. Halfway across the floor, Famfrit and Adrammalech stood watching him, both of Their faces unreadable. A quick scan of the dragon showed Thomas that his dagger hadn't had any affect on It.

The moogle took a deep breath, and then rushed in at the two of them again. Even as he started moving, Famfrit stepped forward, and Adrammalech sucked in a deep breath to prepare a breath attack. This fight would not be easy. Regardless, though, all he was doing was trying to buy time for Isaac and Maxwell to finish their fight. Everything depended on them, now.

Steeling himself, Thomas ducked under another throw of the pot, and then jumped up, landing on the chain connecting it to Famfrit's wrist. He ran along the unsteady, thin surface with no difficulty, and his grip tightened on his daggers as he closed with the two totema.

* * *

Isaac turned, bringing his blade around at Maxwell's exposed side. The bangaa, too off-balance from his attack to set up a proper block, was forced to leap back a step and let the blade pass by. He landed on the debris from one of the caved-in sections of the ceiling, the surface slick with rain pouring in from outside.

Isaac pressed his advantage, swinging back and forth at the bangaa. As their battle had progressed, Isaac had found himself on the offensive less and less, and so opportunities like this were valuable. The bangaa blocked his strike, and vibrations ran up Isaac's stinging wrists. The moogle ignored the pain, and brought his weapon back before stabbing it forward. Maxwell parried this strike with ease, and then stepped forward, forcing the moogle a step back.

They had been in a stalemate for too long. After having reached the top floor of the building, their progress had completely halted. A few dodged powerful blows from Maxwell had taken out a few sections of the ceiling, but neither had had the time yet to make use of them.

As Isaac fell back another step, though, he felt he might soon have to. His arms needed a break, if only for a moment. The rain might also be refreshing… his fur had a thick layer of dust and grime on it from having to dodge and roll through so many old, dusty floors.

Maxwell took a might chop at the moogle, and Isaac fell back, almost stumbling on a piece of rubble. Taking advantage of the moment, the bangaa sucked in a very deep breath. He rocked his shoulders forward, and lightning leapt from his jaws at the moogle.

Isaac yelped and jumped, pumping his wings as he pulled his legs in tight underneath him. The lightning crackled along the floor, burning black lines into the stones and sending heat radiating up towards the moogle. Isaac decided to use this as an excuse to get outside, and started flapping hard, heading straight for one of the holes in the ceiling.

As soon as he saw where Isaac was headed, Maxwell cut off his attack, and rushed forward. Isaac was already out of his reach by the time he reached a position beneath him, but that didn't matter to Maxwell. The bangaa grinned, and then sucked in another deep breath. This one was much deeper than the last, though, and Isaac cursed, knowing what was coming.

When Maxwell leaned forward, an intense jet of fire launched from his mouth, rushing up towards the moogle. Isaac steeled himself, and as soon as he felt the rush of warm hair washing over him, he spread his wings wide. He caught the updraft of intense heat, and rode it upwards, letting it carry him away from the jet. Knowing that it wouldn't be enough to outrun that attack, though, Isaac quickly grasped the Materia Blade in both paws, and closed his eyes.

All around him, the rain began changing its route downwards to bend towards his blade. The howling wind soon joined in as energy gathered around Isaac. The moogle kept his eyes shut, and felt for that approaching heat. He waited until the warmth was getting uncomfortable on his feet before he suddenly leaned forward, slashing down and crying out, "_Ultima!_"

His blade exploded with light as it moved down and sliced into the leading edge of the jet of flames. There was a moment of intense roaring as the dragonflames pushed against his Ultima charge, trying to force a way through. After a few seconds of this, though, the sound died away, and the jet of flames petered out with it. Isaac kept riding the remaining hot air upwards, his eyes trained on the hole in the roof. The rain and the wind pelted downward, forcing the moogle to fight to keep himself stable.

Not long after the flames had died, Maxwell appeared from the hole, flying upwards with his blade leading. Without his spear, he was unable to go quite as fast or as hard, but there was still enough weight behind him for Isaac to brace himself. Their blades met for an instant, the bangaa's momentum adding strength to his blow and pushing Isaac a few feet back through the air.

Maxwell continued travelling slightly forward, following the natural progression of his arc as he swung his blade out at Isaac again. The moogle flailed in the air to get back into position, only just managing to get his blade out in front of himself in time. Sparks burst from the point of contact, and Isaac was sent into another uncontrolled spin. His wings batted at the air, trying to right himself so he could turn and face Maxwell again. When he finally got himself turned towards the bangaa, he was confused for one instant: Maxwell looked oddly out of position, his body in a bizarre orientation. It took him all of half a second to realize that the bangaa was spinning, and also to realize what this meant. Of course, by the time he came to these realizations, the bangaa was finishing his spin, his heavily muscled leg coming around and down and slamming into Isaac's side.

The force of the blow immediately destroyed the moogle's wings' tenuous balance. They crumpled as he began falling, flailing out of control as pain exploded in his hip. His wings remained folded against his back as he careened, too stunned to react for the first few seconds. As the world spun around him, he just managed to catch a glimpse of the ground rushing by as he rolled through the air. It was close; far too close for comfort.

That helped pull him out of the haze that had fallen over him. He clenched his eyes shut, forcing back the vertigo threatening to block out his thoughts. He sucked in a deep breath, and then his wings spread, catching the air. He angled his body, and turned, simply gliding for some distance. He knew better than to flap for a while; it was still taking most of his breath and focus to stop himself from going into another uncontrolled drop.

Isaac hazarded a glance over his shoulder, and just caught sight of Maxwell as the bangaa landed on the roof of one of the buildings. The dragoon bunched up his legs, and then jumped again, following him.

The moogle swallowed, and then looked forward again, thinking. It was probably safer for him if they were fighting somewhere with fewer tall buildings. He nodded to himself, and then finally began pumping his wings, angling himself towards the residential district of the ruined city.

* * *

Montblanc paused to catch his breath as he stepped out into the corridor. He'd run all the way down the rest of the hallway away from the crypt, and then all the way up the stairs after that. The sounds he'd left behind him were more than enough encouragement to keep him running. Even partway up the spiral staircase, he had still been able to hear the screaming of metal scraping off of metal, and the occasional crashes as lumps of stone hit the ground. What had horrified him the most about the sounds, though, was the complete lack of human noises. Neither Caitlin nor her opponent had said a word the entire time, it seemed; they were just fighting.

The moogle leaned back against one of the walls of the corridor, and wiped sweat from the fur on his forehead. He would have to come up with some sort of alternate route back to the throne room. He couldn't guarantee his own safety going past that fight, let alone the prince's.

Thinking of the prince, the moogle stood up straight again. His chest was still heaving, but he couldn't wait any longer. He started heading down the hallway, casting his gaze around.

This part of the palace was clearly much more used than the rest of it. There was no dust lining the hallways here, and in a few places it was clear that bits of stained glass had been replaced. After a short while, Montblanc was surprised to see that they had actually laid out a carpet along part of the floor; it was the same deep red colour that graced much of the Palace's official gear.

Soon enough, the corridor ended as it met another corridor. This one was much wider, and its ceiling arched up elegantly. There were a few doors in the walls of this corridor, all of them clearly leading into average-sized living quarters. Many of the doors were ajar or wide open, showing all of them to be empty. Montblanc started walking to the right at random, casting glances in through the wider open doors.

It was obvious that people were using these rooms; all of the beds had sheets and blankets on them that would have long since decomposed if they'd been here before the Queen and her forces moved in. Probably the guards' rooms, the moogle reasoned. Fortunately, it looked like all of them had been sent out to fight him and the rest of Clan Nutsy when they'd arrived.

Eventually, Montblanc reached a staircase that went up on his left. Intuitively, he turned and went up with it, guessing that the Queen, her generals, and the prince would occupy the higher floors. As he reached the next level, Montblanc cast a quick glance around. This area was much more open: it was more of a large, long chamber than a corridor. In the centre, the opposite wall was parted by a wide staircase leading up. On either side of this staircase, the walls only had one door. Montblanc eyed them carefully, and assumed that these doors led into Maxwell and Llednar's rooms respectively. Which meant that those stairs probably led…

The moogle walked quickly over to them, and then went up two at a time, his wings fluttering a bit. When he'd spoken to Marche about it previously, the paladin hadn't been able to tell Montblanc what to expect. Most reports said that Mewt was mostly harmless; he had had little or no training in magic or combat, as far as anybody could tell. That said, if he chose to cause trouble, then it would be difficult for a moogle of Montblanc's size to force him back to the throne room.

Finally, Montblanc came out to the top of the staircase, and reached a very short corridor with a door on either wall. He was about to reach for the door on the left side, but he paused as his ears pricked up, and the fur all along the back of his neck stood up on end. He turned very slowly towards the opposite door and stared at it, unsure of what it was that was making him so uncomfortable. He took a step towards it, and even with that little distance the feeling grew stronger. It wasn't until he stepped right up to the door and placed his hand on the handle that he placed the sensation.

Magic. It was the exact same feeling he used to get whenever people cast magic around him.

This caused the moogle to pause. He hadn't been able to feel the presence of magic since he'd transferred all of his energy to Guinness. Even extremely powerful acts of magic didn't trigger anything in him anymore. So how could it be possible for him to feel it?

Finally working up the nerve, Montblanc turned the handle, and then stepped into the room.

The room itself was exactly what one might expect for a prince; however, Montblanc's eyes were immediately drawn away from the fine and expensive furnishings towards the far corner of the large room. There, the prince stood, his form mostly concealed by a massive, glowing orb of light that surrounded him. The orb itself shifted frequently, different colours roving across it in random waves and splashes. It almost had a liquid appearance to it, and its surface bulged out occasionally with intense energy.

Montblanc could just barely make out the prince in the heart of this sphere. The boy's body looked distended in the oddly shifting lights. Though it was hard to tell, Montblanc thought that the prince might be carrying some sort of a book with him, held open in his hands.

Feeling his throat going dry, Montblanc stepped closer. Inside the sphere, the prince looked up, and suddenly a powerful wind kicked up in the room, flying straight into Montblanc's face. The moogle nearly fell back, but he managed to catch himself and then lean forward against the wind.

"Prince Mewt?" Montblanc yelled, not sure whether the boy would even be able to hear him in that orb. With great effort, Montblanc took another step forward, nearly losing his footing again in the process.

"You." The voice that spoke was soft, and remarkably clear above the roaring wind. Montblanc could swear he heard a page turning, and then the voice spoke again. "Your name is Montblanc. You are… were a master of Black and Time magic. You are the second in command of Clan Nutsy."

"Marche sent me, kupo! He wants to talk to you!"

There was silence after this declaration. Montblanc kept struggling against the wind, leaning forward into it and crouching to keep himself from being bowled over. When Mewt's voice spoke again, it was filled with scorn.

"Interesting that Marche would send an unarmed moogle incapable of casting spells to assassinate me."

"Kupopo?" Montblanc almost laughed at that suggestion. "Trust me, I'm the last person that Marche would send to assassinate anybody. Besides, he doesn't want to hurt you; he just wants to talk."

"Marche is currently attacking my mother." The human's voice took on a sharper edge, and the wind gusted stronger for a moment. Montblanc actually had to take a step back, his shoes slipping a bit on the granite floor. "The time for talking is passed."

"That thing isn't your mother, kupo! Marche just wants what's best for you."

"What's best for me? Starting a revolt in my kingdom, turning my father against me, trying to kill my mother, and sending an assassin for me are what are best for me?"

"If you had just agreed to speak to him, then none of this would have had to have happened, kupo!"

Mewt, however, seemed to be ignoring the moogle by this point. Montblanc heard a few more pages turning, and then the prince spoke again.

"It's alright. I know what went wrong. I can undo everything that's happened. Last time I wasn't experienced enough, and I didn't know what I was doing. This time, I'll put more constraints in place."

Montblanc stared at the human through the orb of light. "What are you talking about, kupo?"

"This world," the human said, as though it were obvious. "I created it. Unintentionally, of course, using the Gran Grimoire. I didn't give myself enough powers, though. All I have to do to right everything is just restart it all, and make the right corrections."

The moogle felt a chill coming over him. He remembered Marche's stories about the old world, the supposed St Ivalice that he and Mewt and Ritz and all of Isaac's friends had come from. Apparently, just by reading some words from a book, Mewt had accidentally 'created' Ivalice and all of its inhabitants…

Suddenly, Montblanc realized what the sounds of those turning pages must be.

"Corrections?" he asked, his throat feeling very dry. "What kinds of corrections?"

"Nothing terribly major," Mewt murmured. "None of the cities or the people would have been any trouble if Nutsy hadn't started its revolt. They all would have accepted my leadership, and mother never would have had to crack down on the clans. So, all I have to do is recreate the world, but erase Clan Nutsy and all of its associates."

"Erase us, kupo?"

"Yes…" Mewt murmured, and another page turned. "Of course, erasing all of you from this world would mean erasing you from all of the worlds contained in the Gran Grimoire, including St Ivalice… Marche has made himself my enemy, though."

Montblanc simply stared at the orb for a few seconds, hardly able to process what he was hearing. Then, something snapped in him, and he yelled, "So just like that, you would be willing to kill your best friend? All for your own convenience?"

"He's brought it on himself." The voice was soft, and entirely detached. "Besides, it won't hurt a bit. Nobody will ever remember that any of you ever existed. Nobody loses."

That was all that Montblanc needed to hear. He suddenly cried out, unable to find words strong enough to express his rage. Then, he tried to rush forward, fighting the wind every step of the way. His going was slow, but he still managed to move forward. When he was about a meter away from the orb, another page was turned, and Montblanc heard the sound of a quill scratching across paper.

Abruptly, the floor in front of Montblanc reared up, forming into a giant fist and flying forward to slam into the moogle's gut. The force of the punch lifted Montblanc from the ground, and then the wind caught him, throwing him back hard against one of the posts of the prince's bed. The moogle collapsed against the floor, gasping and grabbing at his stomach. The floor between himself and the prince was slowly becoming bumpy, and was soon moving with soft waves as if it was made of water. Montblanc knew that if he tried to pass through there, more of the granite fists would be waiting for him.

Slowly, the moogle got up to his feet, staggering a bit at first. When he had his breath back, he muttered, "Marche sent me here to talk to you, kupo. He chose me because he trusts me more than anybody else in his clan, and he knows most of them would have tried to kill you straight out. He trusts me," the moogle repeated. He paused to take another breath, steadying himself. "That said, when you threaten the lives of everybody I've cared about in my life, Marche's trust stops mattering to me as much."

And with that, the moogle carefully kicked the heels of his shoes, the blue shoes that he'd retrieved from the sac of magical items Clan Nutsy had been carrying, together. There was a bright flash, and then the moogle disappeared.

A moment later, there was a second, identical flash inside of the orb, right next to the prince. Mewt turned, stunned, but before he could react, Montblanc was lunging forward out of the flash, catching the human in the stomach with a well-thrown punch. The prince bent over slightly, the air knocked out of him, and Montblanc took the opportunity to hit him again in the face.

The prince fell back this time, landing heavily on his back. He was desperately clutching a very thick book with an ornate wooden cover to his chest. One look at it was all Montblanc needed to know that this was the magical aura he was sensing; it was completely overpowering. Even being near it was making him feel uncomfortable.

As Mewt started getting back up, Montblanc fell on him, throwing his fists wildly. Mewt cried out, and lifted one arm to bat the attacks away while the other clutched the book. Though Montblanc had never had any formal training in hand to hand fighting, his years spent with Clan Nutsy had honed his muscles, and he had an intuitive understanding of combat. That was all he needed to overpower Mewt and keep the human on the defensive.

Montblanc probably would have kept swinging at the boy until he passed out, but he paused when he heard the human's soft voice. It was haggard, and it carried a whimper as it gasped out, "Please… please leave me alone."

The moogle froze, staring down at the teenaged human beneath him. The boy was still desperately covering his face, but it was easy to see the muscles rising all across his skin and the thin trickle of blood leaking from his nose. His eyes were clenched tightly shut, and even after the moogle stopped, the human remained in that position, waiting for the next blow to fall.

People had begged Montblanc before. On countless occasions with Nutsy, he'd wound up overpowering much more experienced mages than himself, and occasionally they would plead for him to let up his attack in the midst of an engagement. This, though, was different. The begging tone and submissive actions were always awkward and uncomfortable for the mages he'd faced; none of them knew what to say to an attacker to get them to stop. With Mewt, though… something about it gave Montblanc the distinct impression that the human had done this many times before, and that the words had become a well-rehearsed mantra.

For several long seconds, both of them remained in that position, with Montblanc's fist still drawn back to strike. As the time dragged on, Mewt's panicked breathing grew softer, and then his eyes finally opened. They winced when they saw Montblanc's pose, but he managed to hold the moogle's gaze.

"Marche said that people always used to pick on the two of you, kupo." Montblanc hesitated a second longer, and then lowered his fist to his side, and leaned back, taking some of the weight off of the human's chest. "I don't want to—"

Faster than Montblanc expected, Mewt leaned forward and brought his fist up into the moogle's chin. The moogle's teeth smacked together painfully, and he was knocked backwards off of the human. He somehow managed to get up to his feet, but he staggered as spots of light flashed across his vision.

That fist came around again, and caught Montblanc in the side of his jaw. The moogle's balance had already been precarious, and the hit was all it took to drop him. Pain blossomed all across Montblanc's face as his chest hit the ground, and he writhed to try and get away. True, Mewt wasn't impressive by human standards. That said, he was still at least twice as tall as Montblanc, and he had a lot more weight to throw behind his blows.

"Nobody pushes me around anymore!" The human's voice was rough. "I'm in charge here! You won't force me to do anything!"

"You're talking about killing your best friend, kupo! The only person that would stand up fo—"

The human's booted foot slammed up into the moogle's chest, immediately cutting him off. Montblanc slid a few inches across the floor, and balled up, wheezing in pain.

"I did stand up for myself!" The human's voice was taking on another edge; just as desperate as before, but in a more manic way. "I stood up for myself by making this. By making all of this! I made this entire world just for me!"

Montblanc remained where he was, and didn't respond for a few seconds. With a great deal of effort, he struggled up to his hands and knees, sucking in deep breaths. His hands bunched up against the granite floor a few times, and then he finally managed to wheeze out, "That's not standing up for yourself, kupo. That's running away. That's being a cowa—"

The foot swung in again, and there was a sharp flash. Mewt stumbled forward a step as his foot passed through empty air. Reacting with speed that impressed even himself, the prince turned, already seeing another flash going off behind him. Montblanc lunged forward out of that burst of light, reaching for the book Mewt was clutching to his chest. The prince stepped back, and his free hand reached into his robes. As Montblanc stepped in closer, Mewt's hand came back out, and he swung out at the moogle with an ornate, ruby-encrusted dagger.

Montblanc cried out, and then stumbled back. The arm he'd been reaching with immediately went limp, hanging at his side as his good hand came across to grab the deep gash in his upper arm. Blood was already pumping out of it, leaking past the moogle's fingers and staining his fur and clothing red.

The moogle breathed sharply through his nose, clenching his eyes shut and forcing back the shock that he could feel rising. He needed to be clear-headed for this. When he looked at the prince again, Mewt was staring at him, still holding the book to his chest and keeping the bloodied knife between himself and the moogle. There was a horrified look on his face as he looked at the blood spreading from Montblanc's wound.

"Don't step closer." The prince's voice shook, and he clenched his knife tighter. "Next time I'll strike to kill."

Montblanc eyed the human for a very long moment. He wouldn't be able to overpower the human like this… unless, of course, his guess was right. The moogle bit his lip as a fresh wave of pain rolled over him, and then he muttered, "You've never drawn somebody else's blood before, have you?"

"Quiet."

"Is it what you were expecting, kupo?" Montblanc made a big show of looking to his arm and lifting his fingers away from the wound for a moment. "Not quite as easy as erasing a few words in a book, is it?"

"I told you to be quiet!"

"Of course, if you choose to erase me, I guess it won't matter much for me, will it, kupo? I'll never have even received this wound. The only person who'll ever have to know about it is you. How does that make you feel?"

"If you don't stop talking I'll kill you now!" The prince's face was white, and his voice was rising.

"No you won't, kupo." Drawing a deep breath, Montblanc took a step towards the prince. The human tensed, but he didn't move. "The people that used to hurt you _would_ kill me in this situation. They probably already would have. You, kupo, are not like them."

"But you are," Mewt countered. Montblanc moved to take another step, and the human carefully raised his weapon. "Marche and Ritz both always used to say that I should stand up to the others. I might as well start now."

"Did the others ever stop attacking you when you asked?"

That stopped Mewt in his tracks. He didn't react as Montblanc took two more steps forward, drawing himself up so that the knife's tip was just pressing against his chest. The two of them stood in the centre of the orb, then, neither moving for a few good seconds.

Montblanc gingerly released his arm. It started bleeding again, but he ignored it as he raised his bloodstained hand up and laid it softly on the handle of Mewt's knife. The human didn't resist as the moogle pushed the weapon downwards until it pointed at the ground.

"All I ask is that you talk to Marche, kupo. You can hold onto the book; you can even keep the shield up. I'm the only person that can get in or out of it right now; the others can't teleport. Come and talk. See what he's doing, kupo."

"And what if, even after that conversation, I still decide to erase all of you?"

Montblanc chuckled at that. "In that case, you still have a knife, and I'm suffering from blood loss and can't use my arm, kupo."

Mewt eyed Montblanc suspiciously. Then, very slowly, he pulled his hand back, and slid the bloody knife back into his robes, sheathing it.

"Fine."

* * *

Isaac jumped back, his wings flapping madly to get back out of the way. The force of the air displaced by Maxwell's sword as it came down nearly sent him back down to the ground, but the moogle flapped desperately to keep aloft. The old stones of the house's roof split easily under the bangaa's strike, and a few of them actually fell through into the building below.

The mogknight landed on the ledge of the roof, and then jumped back again, knowing there would be another building quite close to this one. Ahead of him, all he could see past Maxwell was a long line of houses leading back towards the centre of the abandoned city, all of them heavily damaged. A few of them actually lay in smouldering piles from where Maxwell had used his breath weapons or one of them had expended a blast of Ultima.

As Isaac's feet touched down on the next roof, he took a couple steps back, holding the Materia Blade up in front of himself and taking a few steadying breaths. On the other building, Maxwell slowly pulled his blade free from the roof's stones, and then looked up to meet Isaac's eyes.

Both of them were showing the effects of their long fight. Isaac was clearly worse off; his fur had many small burns in it, and there were several bruises and welts rising across his body from hard landings and desperate, painful dodges. There was a nasty cut in his arm from when he'd been a bit slow in blocking one of Maxwell's attacks, and every step he took was accompanied by a small limp and a wince. While Maxwell was better off, the bangaa wasn't moving nearly as fast as he had been when they started. Though his blows still carried all of their normal weight, it was taking him a lot longer for him to recover from throwing them. Despite the protection that the dragon's thick scales provided, Isaac had managed to land a few solid blows, and blood was leaking steadily from these small wounds.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence as both of them caught their breath, Isaac called out over the rain.

"You don't look like you're having fun anymore, kupo."

The dragoon grunted. "You're stronger than I gave you credit for, moogle. You're getting tired, though."

"So are you."

The dragoon jumped forward suddenly, and Isaac backed up some more as Maxwell landed on the roof with a splash. Their blades met three times in quick succession, the sounds of impact almost muted by the storm around them. Lightning flashed in the sky as Isaac ducked under Maxwell's next swipe, the moogle stepping forward and trying to hit the bangaa's exposed side.

With remarkable ease, Maxwell stepped out of the way of the attack, leaving Isaac unbalanced as his blade passed through empty air. The bangaa turned, and brought his elbow across to smash into Isaac's cheek.

Isaac stumbled away, almost losing his footing on the slick rooftop. He just managed to stay up, and then turned, sweeping his blade out at Maxwell. Moonlight burst from its tip, and Maxwell, who had been charging at the moogle, was forced to draw himself up short and block the strike. As the moonlight dissipated around his blade, Maxwell's eyes narrowed, and suddenly his blade lit up with crackling lines of electricity. The sudden flash nearly blinded Isaac, and it was all he could do to raise his own blade and get a charge of electricity running along it in time to block Maxwell's incoming attack.

The weapons met with a sharp crackle, sparks and occasional jolts of electricity bursting away from the point of contact between the two weapons. Isaac's eyebrows creased as he felt a few painfully hot vibrations running up his arms, knowing that Maxwell was getting the same small shocks. They held their weapons together, both of their arms shaking as they tried to put their full weights into the attacks.

Abruptly, Maxwell tugged his weapon out of its strike and stepped to the side. Isaac stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance as all the resistance against his block disappeared. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the bangaa sweeping down with his blade, aiming low. Isaac jumped hard, flapping his wings to get a bit more height as the Materia Blade swept by just beneath his feet. The moogle turned swiping out with his own weapon in midair. As Maxwell started ducking, the moogle kicked out with his foot and shoved it into the bangaa's face.

Maxwell stumbled back in surprise, clutching his face. The attack completely threw off Isaac's flight balance, and he fell back, hitting the wet roof and rolling over to his feet.

The two of them glared at each other again, holding their weapons steady and trained upon each other.

"You've used Ultima how many times this fight?" Maxwell asked, raising an eyebrow. "Three? How many more shots do you have in you, mog knight?"

Isaac ignored the question. "You haven't used that dragonfire in a while, either. I'm assuming you're finally out of it for the day?"

"That's of little importance."

"Is it, kupo? At the beginning of this fight, you didn't think there was a chance that I would defeat you. I might not be coming off the best so far, but we both know that I've been close a few times. How confident are you?"

The dragoon's eyes flickered. There was no other visible reaction, but it told Isaac all he needed to know. The bangaa was frightened.

"You're finally understanding there's a chance, kupo. We've defeated Llednar, somebody that was invincible this morning. A moogle is currently matching you in combat. The odds might not be in my favour, but there's still a chance that I'll be the one walking away from this fight."

Maxwell's eyes remained locked on the moogle's, the look on the bangaa's face calculating. Isaac kept his own gaze steady, knowing he had Max on the ropes. This was it. This could work.

And then, abruptly, the bangaa's face cracked into a grin, his eyes lighting up. Isaac felt the furs along the back of his neck prick up as the bangaa stood up to his full height.

"You're right. You might just defeat me in combat, moogle. That said, you'll never kill me."

"Do you really want to bet your life on that, kupo?"

"Maxwell knows you, Isaac," the bangaa snapped, the venom in his voice surprising the moogle. "He knows you more than well enough to know that you would never wilfully kill anybody, let alone one of your closest friends."

"When I first came to this world six years ago, that was true, kupo," Isaac snapped, clutching the hilt of his blade so hard that it hurt. "I'm a different person, now. I'm not sure what you are anymore, but you're definitely not the friend I knew, kupo. I'll do anything to save him, even if it means killing you."

The bangaa's grin only grew wider, which made Isaac even more uncomfortable. "That may be the case, moogle. You might be willing to strike down the creature that's controlling your friend's body and corrupting his mind. That said, would you be willing to strike me down if Maxwell was actually in control?"

Isaac blinked. He tried to hold in the confusion on his face, but it showed anyways as he asked, "But… if you put Maxwell in control… why do you think that we'll even keep fighting, kupo?"

The bangaa laughed, his pose getting very relaxed as he casually began twirling the Materia Blade in his hand. "You are very naïve, Isaac. You really have no idea how much stress Maxwell's mind was under for the three years you were separated. He not only had to lead men into battles in which they died; he led them into those battles having fed the Palace the information that would lead to their deaths. All the while, the Queen was keeping him constantly on edge with small teasing offers about having you and your friends back. For those years, he lived only for your small circle of friends. And then, when he finally revealed his master plan to you, the plan for which he'd allowed so many comrades to die, you rejected him. You, Eileen, and Ben fought against him, and you forced him to strike Ben down.

"After Maxwell came back to work for the Queen, he knew nobody. All the soldiers feared him for his reputation, and the other generals were the construct Llednar and the mercenary Khorin. He was alone. That left him to think about all that he'd done, all of the horrors he'd committed since he came to Ivalice. The only things he had to break up his constant self-reflection were the Queen's occasional visits to remind him what he was fighting for.

"When you and Maxwell fought last winter, he was already on edge. He never would have agreed to fight you in such conditions otherwise, and he certainly wouldn't have made the mistakes he did. So, tell me… how well do you think your friend's grip on reality has fared since he's been under the control of the energies of an ancient, rampaging dragon?"

Throughout the bangaa's speech, Isaac felt his panic slowly growing stronger. He'd never been sure how the transferring of the Worldwyrm's energies into Maxwell had worked. That said, if everything the bangaa was currently was saying was true, then Maxwell and the Worldwyrm still had distinct personalities. If that was case, then Isaac had actually been fighting the Worldwyrm this entire time.

For a few seconds, the two of them stood in silence, glaring at each other from opposite sides of the roof as the rain pelted down on them. Lightning flashed once, cutting a jagged line from the clouds down to the ground. Isaac licked his lips as the thunder crashed, and then spoke.

"If you release Maxwell, I will get through to him, kupo."

"You will try. You will not succeed."

"This won't work, kupo."

"I know that it will," the Worldwyrm replied, and that smile on the bangaa's muzzle grew even wider, a manic look coming to his face. "You couldn't even bring yourself to lie to me and say that you would kill Maxwell. I will give Maxwell control, I will let him destroy you, and then I will take control back from him. You've lost, moogle."

Isaac moved to respond, but the bangaa's eyes suddenly went blank, and the grip on his blade became weak. The moogle stared at the bangaa, and in the back of his head he knew that if he moved now, he could run the body through before anything happened.

The blade at Isaac's side didn't twitch during the long seconds of silence. Isaac was about to try speaking when the bangaa's body gave a sudden twitch. Isaac tensed, and his eyes narrowed as the bangaa slumped abruptly, a shiver running through all of his muscles.

"Max?" Isaac asked. His voice came out as a squeak, barely audible above the sound of the storm.

The bangaa's head jerked up, and those eyes opened and focused on the moogle. There was a moment of confusion that gave way to recognition.

Then, the recognition turned to anger, and the bangaa's body crouched down low, the blade rising. "Isaac." The voice nearly made Isaac fall over. It was Maxwell. The intonation. Everything about it reminded him of Maxwell. The only odd thing about it was the slight tremble to the word, as though it was physically difficult to say. Before Isaac could say anything, though, Maxwell went on, his voice slowly growing more comfortable. "We have a battle to finish."

"Kupopo?" Isaac demanded. He was about to ask more, but abruptly something cool and smooth coiled around his ankle. He glanced down, and saw that one of the black chords that Maxwell could summon had sprouted from the roof and grabbed onto him. Fear ran through him, and he looked back up, just beginning to raise his blade as Maxwell's fist smashed into his face.

The force of the blow lifted Isaac clean off of the ground, even snapping the chord. The moogle flew back, covering the gap between his current roof and the next one. He landed hard on his back, and rolled, trying to get back to his feet. He stumbled as he got up, and then looked up as he felt energy building in front of him.

Maxwell had followed him, jumping the distance between the two roofs. He was now coming down towards Isaac, the Materia Blade clenched in both hands and coming down in an overhead chop with a massive charge of Ultima gathering along its length. Almost in slow motion, Isaac saw that the bangaa was overextending himself. It would be easy for Isaac to take a step forward, jab upwards, and run the bangaa through before he could even strike.

The moogle swallowed, and then dodged hard to the side, waiting until the last second so Maxwell wouldn't be able to readjust his aim. As the blade collided with the roof, there was a deafening roar. Even the sound of the thunderstorm disappeared as Isaac ran along the crumbling roof, his feet smacking hard against the dislodging stones. When he jumped off of the edge, it was more the momentum from his flapping wings than his kicking legs that carried him to the next roof.

He landed, nearly losing his fedora as he slipped on the wet stones, and then turned around. Maxwell stood on top of the smouldering rubble of the house, the bangaa having already dislodged himself from the debris. Maxwell's eyes were raised to look at Isaac, the bangaa's chest heaving as he glared.

"You don't have to fight me, Max!" Isaac yelled down to him.

"You're the last one, Isaac." It was as if the bangaa hadn't even heard him. "You killed Jacqueline… I killed Ben… Eileen killed herself. You're the last one."

"You _want_ all of your friends dead, kupo? That doesn't make any sense!"

"It makesssss perfect ssssensssse, Issssaac," the bangaa replied, losing his control over his hissing in his anger. "Onccce all of you are dead, the Queen can bring you back to life. She'll erassse our memoriesss of everything that'sss happened, and we can live happily."

"That's crazy, Maxwell!" Isaac yelled back. "Besides, the Queen lied to you! She never brought Thomas back from the dead. She healed him, yes, but he was never dead, kupo."

"I killed him myssssself!" Maxwell snapped back, taking a step towards the moogle. "I killed him to ssssave you, jusssst like I'll kill you now to ssssave all of our friendssss."

Abruptly, Maxwell jumped. Isaac stepped back, letting the bangaa land on the roof, and then their weapons met. The Materia Blades rang off of each other quickly, each one shedding rain liberally as the two friends slowly circled each other, their arms leading the weapons in incredibly fast routines. Within a few seconds, Isaac's arms were aching from both the vibrations and the intense effort. He looked up at Maxwell, and saw the feverish look in his eyes.

"I'm your friend, Maxwell!" the moogle finally managed to gasp out, his voice almost inaudible over the pelting rain. "Please, stop!"

"You started this!"

The two weapons met, and stopped as the two friends leaned in, pressing their weight into each other again.

"What are you talking about, kupo?"

"You. You started this." The bangaa growled. "When this world began, we were all separate. You chose to come after all of us. You brought us together. You're responsible for everything that the five of us have done. You killed Jacqueline."

Isaac swallowed, feeling his feet beginning to slip in the rainwater. "I didn't have a choice."

"I know, Isaac. You didn't have a choice. Just like how I didn't have a choice when I was a gladiator. I would give everything to stop the pain of remembering what I did to the other people I fought." The bangaa leaned in closer, tilting his long snout down towards the moogle. "Give up. One small cut, and it's done. When she revives you, you won't have to remember any of it. It's that simple."

Isaac stared up at his friend, shuddering a bit. He felt his feet slip back another half of an inch, and then his heels were just on the edge of the roof. He swallowed again; for some reason his throat felt very dry.

"No, kupo. I'm your friend. I don't know what the Queen's done to you, but just remember that I'm your friend, kupo. I have been through all of this. I'm not going to stop being your friend because of what you've done. We can fight the Queen together, and we can defeat her. Give me that chance, Max."

Maxwell's eyes narrowed, and he growled in anger. He suddenly drew back his blade, preparing to slash, and Isaac knew he couldn't block the attack without being pushed over the edge. He turned, and then jumped, flapping towards the next roof.

Then, another of the black coils shot out and caught his ankle, tugging back on him.

Isaac cried out, and turned in midair, sweeping out with the Materia Blade. He could see Maxwell bringing his weapon down as the moogle sliced through the chord. He turned back towards the far roof, and kept flapping.

The blade came down, and though Isaac had managed to get most of his body out of the way, the tip still caught against the membrane of his left wing. It sliced through with little difficulty, and Isaac cried out, his momentum immediately dropping. He fell the rest of the way, and just managed to throw a hand out to grab the edge of the roof he'd been aiming for.

Isaac closed his eyes, and bit his lip until it bled as he pulled himself up to the roof. The added strain to his shoulder had forced the wing to flex, sending a spasm of agony through him. The moogle shivered, and turned, raising his blade as the bangaa followed him onto the roof.

* * *

Thomas rolled over, letting Adrammalech's foot smash down on empty space. The force of the impact made the granite floor shudder, nearly bouncing the juggler as he rolled up to his feet. He retreated a couple of steps away from the dragon, and turned, looking around for Famfrit.

The moogle's eyes widened as he saw that the Totema was standing only a few feet from him. The armoured figure already had the massive pot spinning on its chain above Its head, preparing to throw. Thomas could feel Adrammalech just behind him, preparing to strike again. The exhausted and injured moogle, knowing that he wasn't strong enough to block either attack, thought for an instant that felt like an eternity, trying to come up with a plan.

His fingers flexed, and he dropped both of the knives he was carrying as Famfrit released the water pot. Thomas turned, bending backwards painfully far and fast to let the pot fly by in front of his face and towards Adrammalech.

Adrammalech, of course, had seen the attack coming, and had known better than to let Its fellow Totema strike It. The great dragon had already sidestepped, and was reaching down past the chain towards the moogle.

Thomas timed it perfectly. He stood back up sharply, and suddenly there was a large, flexible hoop in his hand. In a quick motion, he slipped it up and over Adrammalech's wrist. The moogle then turned, dodging the dragon's strike, and somehow managed to slip the hoop into the links of chain connecting Famfrit to Its pot.

As Thomas staggered out of that manoeuvre, Adrammalech stared down at Its wrist in dull shock for a second. Then, It glanced up, about to call out to Famfrit. The other totema was already wrenching on the chain.

Almost immediately, the tough hoop of wood snapped. However, the initial tug was enough to pull Adrammalech off of Its balance, and send It stumbling forward. Famfrit, seeing the dragon coming for It, tried to draw Its hands up to block Adrammalech and keep both of them on Their feet.

The totema's plans were complicated when the pot came flying back, slamming squarely into Adrammalech's back. The dragon let out a bellow of outraged confusion, and careened into Famfrit at full tilt. The two totema collapsed, hitting the ground with a deafening crash.

No sooner had the two of them landed than Thomas ran in, moving as fast as his feet would carry him. He wouldn't get much time. As the dragon began pushing Itself up, the moogle slid forward, getting himself right next to the two totema. He ducked his torso between them, and then brought both of his daggers around and down. He knew where he was aiming: the small interlocking bits of armour that covered Famfrit's chest. The gaps between the different pieces would be his best chance. He brought both daggers down, and they rang off of the iron with a sharp, deafening clash. Vibrations ran up Thomas's wrists, but he ignored the pain as he placed his full weight against the weapons.

There was a long, horrible moment as the moogle was leaning against the hilts of his knives when it seemed as though they would do nothing. Famfrit was already reaching down to pluck the moogle away, and Adrammalech was just lunging back down to bite at him. Thomas had his eyes clenched tightly shut, and he was about to pull back when, quite abruptly, he felt both daggers jerk downwards and the massive, armoured form beneath him twitch.

The moogle blinked, and then released both daggers, pulling away and rolling back. He shivered as he felt Adrammalech's hot breath on his neck, and the wet teeth teasing through the fur of his neck. Then, he was free from both Totema, and falling back away from them. He kept up his momentum, putting his hands on either side of his head to keep himself rolling. He came back up to his feet in a crouch, and glanced upwards.

Adrammalech was staring down in surprise, not moving. Famfrit was jerking occasionally, trying to reach up, before letting Its hand fall back to Its side. The two daggers had sunk in past the armour all the way to their hilts, and dark blood was beginning to bubble up around them.

The three of them were silent for a few seconds, hearing nothing but the crashing and roaring of the fight between Clan Nutsy and the Queen on the next level. Thomas was busy catching his breath, not leaving his crouch in case either Totema tried something.

"So… you do have some fight in you." Adrammalech's voice wasn't angry; it was more a mixture of surprised respect. Slowly, It turned Its gaze upwards to settle on Thomas. The moogle shuddered, but held himself steady. "You have defeated one Totema single handed. That already places you as one of the strongest mortals alive."

Thomas licked his dry lips. He stood up straighter, and suddenly two more daggers appeared in his hands. He gave them a twirl, and then held them up and ready. "How about we go for two Totema single handed then, kupo?"

"You're tired, moogle," Adrammalech growled, some of that old anger returning. It gestured towards Thomas; the moogle was already bruised and bloody from the fight, his clothing torn in places and all of his movements getting sluggish. "It would be wise for you to stand down. You cannot win this fight in your current condition."

"I don't need to win this fight, kupo," Thomas muttered. "All I have to do is survive long enough for Isaac to finish his job."

"You are all placing a lot of faith in the moogle."

"He'll pull it off, kupo," Thomas said, and then his wrist flicked forward. The dagger launched from his hand, and then he was moving again, dodging as Adrammalech lunged for him.

* * *

The rain fell, a constant sheet of water on the bleak, deserted city. Nobody had come here for several dozen years, and the steady streaks of lightning flashing about showed all of the abandoned buildings, and, more remarkably, the two figures standing on top of a small two-story house. Light reflected from their weapons as they circled each other, blood flowing from each of them in dozens of little rivulets.

"It's for Jacqueline, Isaac. It's all for Jacqueline!"

Isaac panted, shaking his head to get the rainwater out of his eyes. He was done. He and his opponent both knew it. There was no escape for him now. The next attack would be his last stand.

The figure lunged forward, weapon leading.

Isaac jumped out of the way, grabbing his opponent's arm as he came forward. Using it as a pivot, Isaac turned, attempting to drive his elbow into the other's face.

* * *

Mewt kept his eyes trained on Montblanc as the prince carefully opened his book. The human thumbed through the pages carefully, and as he did so, Montblanc felt something odd overcoming him. It was a bizarre tension, like a ripple running through him that got stronger with each page that was turned.

The prince's hand stopped on a page, and Montblanc blinked in surprise. He could've sworn that he'd just seen the air around the prince bend. The moogle's eyes flicked down to the book again, staring in horror as he realised just how powerful it was.

The prince ignored the moogle's look, and instead snapped his finger. Immediately, the space next to him warped and bent, leaning down curving between his fingers. A moment later, a softly glowing, golden quill with a long plume appeared in that hand. Apparently not needing ink, the human casually brought the tip down, pressing it into the page.

Montblanc yelped, and then bent over, shivering as he actually felt things moving around, and through him. He felt his guts heave as the human casually scratched along the page, writing in blinding gold ink. Pressure built up all around both of them, and for a second Montblanc thought that it would crush him, and simply render him into a red splotch right there on the granite floor.

Then, everything moved. For a second, Montblanc felt both weightless and incredibly heavy at once as he felt himself coming apart, cell after cell stripped away. He threw back his head, and tried to scream as his body was consumed—

And then it was over. Montblanc stumbled as things returned to normal. The only thing that kept him from falling over was Mewt reaching out a hand and steadying him. The moogle glanced up at the human, dazed and confused.

Wordlessly, Mewt nodded, and then gestured around them with his pen. Montblanc turned to look, and his eyes widened. They were in the throne room; it looked like they were standing in the outstretched hand of a piece of sculpture on the wall. The protective orb was still around them, but Mewt appeared to have faded it somewhat to allow them to see out.

The two of them took careful steps forward to the edge of the hand, and then glanced down at the rest of the room. There was a roar, and both of their eyes immediately settled on Marche and Queen Remedi in the middle of the room.

Both of them had just jumped back after exchanging attacks, and were circling each other. Marche's body was covered in sweat and dust, and his clothing was torn in several places. As he walked, he had to watch where he placed his feet; the solid marble had been torn up in places. There were a few smouldering craters from magical discharges, and also many long scorch marks from spells. As the paladin moved, he kept his eyes trained on the queen, not letting himself look at anything else.

Remedi was entirely untouched. Though she had changed out of her ceremonial gown, she looked pristine. The tighter black robes she wore didn't have a fleck of dust on them, and even the dark, long-handled battleaxe she held looked like she'd just taken it out of a display case. She was walking with much greater ease; whenever she reached a gouge or crater in the floor, she would just casually float over it, never letting it break her stride.

Abruptly, Marche yelped out, "Now!"

Remedi turned, trying to see what the paladin was calling for. As she moved, a black form suddenly appeared behind her, standing in her shadow. Before the queen could either see or react to her, the form, Vili, lunged downwards, oily shadows building up in her hand and forming into a long spike. She stabbed the spike into the Queen's shadow, and Remedi froze. Even from where they stood, Montblanc and Mewt could see the strain on the viera's face as she called out, "Do it now, quickly!"

Wordlessly, Marche charged forward, raising his knightsword. The weapon began glowing, and then light erupted from it. It burst out from the guard and sheathed the entire blade, quickly taking on the shape of the sword. As Marche kept charging forward, the light grew stronger, building up and lengthening.

"It's pointless," Mewt muttered, watching the paladin's charge.

"Kupopo?"

"He can't hurt her. Her protections are almost as strong as mine right now."

As Marche reached the halfway point of his charge, another figure suddenly stepped out from behind one of the pillars in the chamber. Guinness raised his hands, and immediately black and white light burst from him, rearing up around him in towering flames. The mage closed his eyes, and the black light grew stronger, quickly dwarfing the white. For a short moment, the nu mou simply stood there, eyes shut as he called up his magical energy.

Then, the mage's fingers twitched forward, and the black fire reared up, quickly turning into actual flames as they roared down upon the queen. The red flames rushed down, all tinged with black.

"They're still going to keep trying, kupo," Montblanc muttered.

"It's stupid. All of them will die."

"No. Not necessarily. We still have our trump card. Isaac can pull this off for us, kupo."

If the prince replied, Montblanc didn't hear it. A moment later, Vili pulled her hand away from the queen's shadow, and dodged backwards as Marche's sword of light and Guinness's flames slammed into the queen. The explosion rocked the entire palace.

* * *

"It won't work, Isaac!"

The figure's other hand grabbed his elbow, forcing it down so that the two of them were locked in an embrace, staring up at each other as they held each other's weapons at bay. The figure grinned.

"Don't do this!" Isaac stammered, his fear finally beginning to show. "This isn't you! You would never do something like this!"

"You're so naive, Isaac." The figure leaned in close, so that Isaac could feel the hot breath on his face. "I've always had the potential to do this. It's always been waiting, somewhere beneath the surface. You just provided the means."

"No..." Isaac began, but was cut short as his opponent's forehead flew forward, snapping into his own face. Isaac dropped his weapon, and his enemy threw him off the edge of the building.

* * *

There was an odd silence as the roar died down. Marche was kneeling, his chest heaving up and down. His sword was still simmering from the attack, held tightly in his hand. With great difficulty, he looked up, and managed to get one of his feet under him. The smoke and dust was clearing, and he had to cough once or twice to clear it.

"I can understand now how your clan managed to defeat all of the Totema."

It wasn't a surprise, but Marche still sighed as he heard the queen's voice. He finally managed to draw himself up to his feet, and he held his sword and shield out in front of him. The dust finally settled, and the smoke rose enough for him to see the queen.

A few feet around her on every side, the ground was torn up, either by Guinness's magical explosions or Marche's attack. However, the perfect circle of stone around her was unmarked, protected by her magical shield. The queen herself was standing at the centre of this circle. The only change from how she'd looked before was the expression of cautious, but almost mocking respect.

"You are definitely powerful," the queen said, that grin still on her face. "It might have been enjoyable to actually fight against your clan without my shield."

"You might still get the chance." Marche's voice was raw from all of the smoke and dust. He tried to clear his throat, and then spoke again. "Isaac will pull this off."

The queen's grin widened. "You place so much faith in the moogle. If he fails, then so does the rest of this rebellion, and the sacrifices of all the people that have died over the past few years will have been wasted."

"But Isaac won't fail," Marche replied, drawing himself up again. "Maxwell won't win that fight. Isaac won't let him. It's as simple as that. And that is why we keep fighting."

* * *

He hit the earth a few dozen feet below painfully hard, and felt several of his bones break. With a great force of will, Isaac managed to turn himself enough to look away from the shadow jumping down from the roof of the house. He missed the sight of that weapon, flashing blindingly as lightning tore across the sky. Instead, he looked up at the clouds, the rain, the sky. Soon he would be up there, he hoped. Soon he would have his peace.

This was the end.

He heard a soft thump as Maxwell landed easily next to him. For a moment, Isaac tried to lift his arm, but all he got for his effort was a sharp pain.

Then, the dragoon leaned forward over his vision. Carefully, Maxwell reached forward with his free hand, and picked Isaac's fedora up from where it had fallen on the ground. He placed it on the moogle's head, and met his eyes.

Before Isaac could say a word, the bangaa's wrist twitched, and a hot pain burst out across Isaac's throat. Blood splattered up into the rain, some of it staining Maxwell's shirt.

By the time the rest of it hit the ground, Isaac was dead.


	134. Black Heart

Maxwell stared down at the body for a few seconds. His chest rose and fell, and the Materia blade shook in his grip. Hesitantly, he reached out with his free hand, and he gave the moogle's chest a prod. The wet fur was still warm, but the muscles underneath were lax. He held his hand there for a few moments, waiting, but he didn't feel the chest rise or fall once.

Finally, the bangaa stood back up straight. He kept staring at Isaac's bloodied body for a few moments. The hat had fallen down over the moogle's eyes, and a grimace was stuck across his mouth. The long, thin gash along his neck was surrounded by sticky blood, and a few drops were still dripping down his chest. The bangaa knew that Isaac had suffered more wounds during their battle, but they were harder to identify now that the moogle wasn't moving.

At last, Maxwell shook his head, and turned away. He bunched up his legs, and then jumped. There was still a fight going on at the Palace, and while he was certain that the Queen could handle it, it wouldn't do to risk anything.

The bangaa flew over the abandoned city, occasionally letting his gaze wander down to the path of destruction he and Isaac had left. In some places, it was hard to see; just a few gouges or small scorches along the rooftops. In other places, though, the piles of rubble were still smouldering from flames extinguished by the rain.

Finally, the bangaa reached the base of the staircase that lead up to the Palace's square. He started up, figuring it would be safer to walk up as opposed to trying to jump on the slick stairs. He moved slowly, casually twirling the Materia Blade in his hand. It was almost done…

As he placed his foot down on the next step, though, he froze in place, his eyes going wide. His grip tightened on the hilt of the Materia Blade, and for several long seconds, he just stared off into space. All the while, the blade shook in his grip, his knuckles cracking.

Abruptly, the bangaa shook his head, and started walking up the stairs again. A slow grin came across the Worldwyrm's face as he moved. He'd been able to watch everything happening as Maxwell had done it, and every moment had been delicious. He'd seen all of the openings that the bangaa had left open, and watched each time as Isaac let them pass by. He'd watched the moogle's will gradually crumble, until Isaac was lying in the mud, barely even looking at Maxwell as the bangaa cut him down.

Yes, all of it had gone just as the Worldwyrm had hoped. Admittedly, Maxwell had put up a bit more a struggle over who got control of the body than he'd expected, but it was a minor oversight. He just had to remember that Maxwell wasn't a normal humanoid; that bangaa had been blessed with a fair deal of power, and he knew how to resist.

That said, the Worldwyrm didn't plan on letting Maxwell have control again anytime soon. Hopefully, the time locked away would weaken his will. The Worldwyrm's grin widened as he stepped up onto the main platform. He started walking past the scenes of the battle between Llednar's forces and Clan Nutsy. He didn't bat an eyelid at all of the guards that were still unconscious from the fight. They'd already proven they were useless; they would be no help in protecting the Queen.

The Worldwyrm finally sheathed the Materia Blade as he reached the large crater in the ground where Marche had slain Llednar. The bangaa let his gaze wander around, and his eyes finally settled on his spear, lying on the wet path where he'd left it. He walked over and grabbed it up, smirking at the familiar weight as he twirled it from hand to hand. It had taken some practice to get used to fighting with the weapon, but Maxwell's instincts and memories had proven very useful in that department.

The spear came to a sudden stop at his side, and he turned towards the Palace, beginning to walk over. He hadn't gone more than a couple steps before he froze. He'd noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned very slowly, and he couldn't stop himself from licking his lips as his eyes fell upon the twin Avuir blades. They were lying on the path with Isaac's discarded bandolier. As the bangaa's eyes roamed over the worked weapons, the blue and red blades and silver and gold hilts and twin amethyst pommels.

The Worldwyrm remembered those weapons. They were the weapons that, centuries ago, the Hero Gaol had used in battle against him. He remembered the frustration of fighting against them keenly. The red weapon bit sharper than any dragon's claws, and the blue one had let the human move faster and survive more brutal attacks than any creature that small should've been capable of. Any warrior that carried those blades was a force to be reckoned with…

The Worldwyrm grinned slowly, and walked over to the two weapons. He snatched up the red blade with his free hand, and shivered as he felt the muscles in his wrists tensing. He slipped the sharp weapon into his belt next to the Materia Blade, and then reached for the silver hilt of the Avuir Blue.

He tensed as he gripped it, staring down at the blue steel. Even after all of the fighting and the mud, its flat side was smooth and reflective as a mirror. The bangaa blinked slowly, watching himself in the blue weapon.

The grimace on the bangaa's face slowly faded into a simple, neutral expression. He glanced over towards the palace, and then started walking towards the doors. As he drew closer, the bangaa glanced up, hearing something. Through the heavy doors, he could just make out the sounds of roaring, and occasional keens of pain. There were crashes and thumping, and he immediately knew that there was a fight going on. The odd part of it, though, was the soft sound that dominated all of the cacophony. It was a strain of music, being played on a violin.

Grans. So that's how they managed to get past the Queen's monsters. Well, he would deal with her.

* * *

Thomas leapt back. For the first half of a second, the jump was controlled; after that, there was a roar, and then the ground where he'd been standing burst apart. A shockwave of air rushed over the moogle, buffeting him and blowing his wings out backwards. He managed to land with one foot on the ground, but his ankle twisted awkwardly as he tried to keep his balance, and he collapsed.

The moogle rolled back, bouncing occasionally on the floor as the totema's steps sent vibrations through it. When he finally came up to his feet, Thomas turned to face Adrammalech, narrowing his eyes at the totema.

The great dragon pulled up short, watching the moogle carefully. Despite how long the two of them had been fighting, the totema didn't show any sign of tiring. There were a few small dings in Its scales, but they only made up very mild surface damage. Thomas wouldn't have believed that It had been fighting if it weren't for the aching in his muscles and the bruises and scrapes covering his skin.

Thomas took a very long moment, and then let his eyes flick over towards Famfrit again. The other Totema hadn't moved since he'd managed to stab It. It was breathing, but It still lay in the same growing pool of blood.

"You are impressive." Thomas returned his attention to Adrammalech as the voice of all bangaas spoke. The dragon was drawing Itself up again, preparing to attack. "It would be better for you to fold now, though. You grow weary."

"I've been weary since we started fighting, kupo," Thomas retorted, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "Surrender isn't an option, though. Surrender means death."

The dragon lowered Its head and narrowed Its eyes, preparing to charge. Thomas raised his knives, and was just settling into a crouch when there was a loud bang from behind him. He tensed, seeing Adrammalech's eyes rise up to look behind him. A look of surprise crossed Its face, and Thomas immediately turned on his heel.

The main doors leading into the throne room had been banged open. A tall figure, almost three times Thomas's height, stood there, its chest heaving. Rainwater was dripping from it, along with a few small splotches of blood that still needed to be washed clean. It held a long blue blade in its right hand, and its left arm was clutching a large bundle to its shoulder.

It took Thomas several long seconds to recognize the figure as Maxwell. As soon as he did, though, the moogle felt a horrible, yawning terror opening up in his guts. He watched as the bangaa shook his head a bit, shedding more water from himself, before he casually dropped the bundle from his left shoulder down to his side, and then let it fall to the ground. As the bundle splayed out, Thomas realized that it was Grans.

The bangaa began walking towards Thomas, slowly raising the Avuir Blue in his hand. It took the moogle a few breaths to remember to raise his knives, preparing for the bangaa's charge.

Even as his knives came up, though, the bangaa's weapon was slamming into them. The force of the blow forced Thomas's feet to slide a few feet back, and almost knocked the moogle onto his back. He staggered, his arms pinwheeling to keep himself standing as the bangaa came in for another strike.

The Avuir Blue came forward, and Thomas turned himself awkwardly out of its path. As Maxwell drew back from the attack, Thomas finally managed to set his feet underneath him. The moogle came around to face the bangaa and whipped a knife at him.

Maxwell brought the Avuir Blue up, and Thomas's missile clanged off of it. The moogle backed off as the bangaa advanced, both of them knowing that Thomas was probably too tired to handle a direct assault.

The two of them moved quickly, Thomas giving ground while trying to keep himself from being backed into a corner. The moogle had one dagger out, and was holding a knife in his other hand readied to throw.

Maxwell came forward in a sudden jab, and Thomas ducked beneath the blow. The moogle swept out at the bangaa's legs with his dagger, but the trained dragoon jumped over the slash easily. Thomas saw the bangaa in the air and turned, whipping his knife out at the airborne figure.

The Avuir Blue came around and picked the dagger out of the air easily. As Maxwell landed, he lunged forward, the blue weapon coming around in a sharp chop. Thomas backed up, raising one of his melee daggers to block the attack.

Metal rang off of metal, and Thomas cried out in pain as the weapon was torn from his grip. He staggered with the momentum of the strike, trying to regain his balance. As he heard the heavy thumping of Maxwell's footsteps, though, the moogle changed his tactics. He threw himself into the momentum, and jumped, launching himself away from the bangaa.

The moogle hit the ground in a crouch and rolled, coming back up to his feet. He turned on one foot, getting his remaining dagger back up as he turned to face the bangaa. Maxwell came on hard and fast, holding his blade in both hands. Thomas got his knife in the way to intercept it at the last second, but the strike nearly bowled him over. He turned desperately, trying to summon a throwing knife to keep the dragoon at bay.

As he came around to face Maxwell, though, all he found was a foot coming up. It slammed in under his chin, and the moogle's vision exploded with white spots as he flew up into the air. His body flailed for a few seconds as he flew, and he was dimly aware that his hands were no longer holding the hilts of his knives.

Pain erupted from his shoulder and down into his arm, and his momentum dropped sharply as he slid along the floor. He tried desperately to get his hands underneath him, still not sure where he'd landed.

Just as he managed to start pushing himself up, though, a heavy pressure settled on his chest. The moogle looked up, his vision still not fully focused. He knew even before the hulking mass above him leaned down that it was Maxwell, keeping a foot on his chest.

The dragoon moved his hand carefully, wrapping it around the juggler's neck. He squeezed down with his fingers just enough to keep the moogle in place, but not hard enough to actually restrict his breathing at all. Thomas stared as Maxwell leaned in ever closer, bringing his muzzle down until the moogle could feel the bangaa's hot breath on his face.

There was a moment of silence as their eyes met, Thomas trying to glare at the bangaa through the disoriented haze. Then, Maxwell spoke.

"Did the queen bring you back to life?"

Thomas blinked, and stared up at Maxwell in confusion. The bangaa was givng him the same intense look.

"Kupopo?"

"Did the queen bring you back to life or not?"

Thomas kept staring for a very long second. Then, his eyes flicked to the blue blade, and he remembered a time several years ago, when he was with Isaac at the edge of an icy cliff. He'd been freezing cold, already going into hypothermia, and he was exhausted from fighting. However, he remembered that as soon as he laid his hand on the silver hilt of the Avuir Blue, his mind had cleared, and the aching cold had lifted from his body slightly.

The moogle swallowed, and then muttered, "Is Isaac dead?"

The bangaa's eyes flickered, but otherwise he didn't move. "Yes."

There was another long moment of silence as both of them took in deep breaths, both of them being careful to prevent Adrammalech from seeing either of their reactions.

"The queen healed me. I was never dead, kupo."

Again, the bangaa made no visible reaction. He took a few deep breaths, still holding the moogle's throat tightly. When he spoke, his voice was just above a whisper.

"Are you ready, Thomas?"

If the queen spoke to him he would be dead. If the queen spoke to him he would be dead. If the queen spoke to him…

"Yes."

Without another word, Maxwell stood up. He pulled Thomas up with him, handling the moogle roughly. In a deft movement, he turned the moogle around, and pulled his arms behind his back. The bangaa wrapped his large fingers around the moogle's forearms; holding them together, but giving his wrists freedom of movement. Understanding this, Thomas carefully summoned two throwing knives, and held them concealed between his back and his arms.

Maxwell brought the Avuir Blue around to press against the moogle's throat, and then began walking, pushing as much as carrying the moogle. Thomas stumbled along, trying his best to not stumble and accidentally cut open his own throat on the blade. The two moved quickly and directly for the staircase leading up to the next level, not even pausing as Adrammalech fell cautiously into step behind them.

The trio went up the stairs, moving slowly so that Maxwell and Thomas could time their steps. Above, there were still the sounds of combat ringing out as steel screamed off steal and spells discharged. Throughout it all, Maxwell and Thomas kept their breathing steady, and moved at their gradual pace.

When the two of them stepped up onto the upper level, it took a moment for the combatants to notice them. Marche was in the middle of an intense exchange with Remedi, his knightsword ringing off of her battleaxe in quick movements. Occasionally, small flashes of white light erupted between the two weapons, and the battleaxe would pull away from the sword simmering. Throughout it all, the queen had an amused, if strained, look on her face. Occasionally, she left gaping holes in her defence, clearly intended to serve as traps for the paladin.

Marche remained steady, though. His eyes never blinked, and every movement of his sword was perfect. He knew which attacks he could block, and which ones he could dodge. Occasionally, he even let an attack through, and turned his body enough for his armour to deflect the blow.

As the bangaa and the moogle stepped up, there was a flash of light from off to the side, and then a jagged line of electricity leaped in and exploded against the surface of the queen's shield. Sparks burst from the invisible point of contact, scattering off away from the invisible force field. None of the electricity managed to pass through, but the force of the attack managed to send the Queen stumbling over to the side a step.

When the attack finally cut out, Guinness, the source of the energy, bent over double, gasping for breath. The queen half-turned towards him, but Marche was suddenly in her way again, keeping her distracted from the nu mou. As Marche crossed weapons with her again, Guinness fell back, wiping sweat away from his forehead. The nu mou took shelter behind a column, and then stood there, regaining his breath.

Maxwell and Thomas watched this exchange for a short while, Adrammalech standing just behind and to the right of them. Finally, the bangaa gave Thom a slight nudge, and the two of them moved towards the duelling pair.

Once they had crossed about half of the distance to the pair, Maxwell cleared his throat very loudly. Immediately, both the queen and Marche looked up, their eyes narrowing upon the advancing trio. There was a moment while the two of them caught their breath, their eyes still filled with the haze of battle. As they cleared, though, the queen's face cracked into a smile at the same moment that Marche's clouded over.

"It is done, then?" she asked, not even paying attention as Marche fell back, keeping his eyes on Maxwell and Thomas.

"It is done," Maxwell replied. "The Ultimate of the moogles is dead."

"Excellent," the queen replied, her smile widening. "Now, all that remains is to dispatch with Clan Nutsy, and then we can be done with this business once and for all."

"No."

There was a very long moment of confused silence as Remedi, Marche, and Adrammalech all stared over at Maxwell in surprise. Thomas felt the bangaa tensing behind him, and knew that the fight was about to begin anew. He wasn't sure what Max was planning, but hopefully it was something good…

"You said that once I struck down the last of the line of moogle Ultimates, you would bring my friends back to life. I have done as you asked; now it is time for you to uphold your end of the deal."

The queen's face went through a few very subtle shifts. Her surprised look morphed as her eyebrows lowered, and lines creased the edges of her mouth. "It takes time to revive the dead. I will have sufficient time once we've dealt with Clan Nutsy."

"Why do they even need to be dealt with, my queen? Now that the Ultimates of the moogles, the nu mou, the viera, and the humans are dead, it is nearly impossible for them to fulfil the Prophecy of Five Bloods. You are as good as invincible. You need not fear their interference. You have won the war."

"Not until they lie dead!" she snapped back. "They can still make this world imperfect! They can still make things difficult for Mewt!"

"You mean your son?" Maxwell asked. There was something odd about the way he corrected her, and Remedi certainly picked up on it as she immediately clarified.

"Of course my son. What are you trying to imply?"

"You seem more obsessed with ensuring that this world remains 'perfect' than with ensuring your son's happiness. It's an odd thing from his own mother."

There was silence for a good while after that. Everybody's eyes were trained on the bangaa, watching him, and waiting for his next move. He, however, simply stood there, keeping his blade pressed flush against Thomas's neck. The moogle was breathing heavily, staring at the queen. Fortunately, she was more preoccupied with the bangaa than him right now. At this range, all she had to do was say one word and…

"Maxwell," she suddenly said, her voice low. She spoke in a commanding tone. "Finish off Clan Nutsy and the traitor." She nodded down at Thomas, finally acknowledging his presence. "Once you have, I will bring your friends back to life. I swear that to you."

Thomas felt Maxwell tensing behind him again. When the bangaa spoke, his voice was rough, occasionally letting his hiss slip into it. "Tell me. Do you swear on the life of the princcce?" When the queen didn't respond, the bangaa slowly nodded. "You can't bring the dead back to life, can you? Eileen was right all along. Our only chance is to strike you down."

And then things started moving very quickly.

The queen lunged forward, her face a mask of rage as her battleaxe came around and down. Maxwell turned, and in a quick motion, he threw Thomas away from himself, towards Adrammalech. The great dragon was already drawing Itself up, preparing to charge.

Thomas got both of his knives out, and landed on his feet from the bangaa's throw only a few metres away from the Totema. He charged in at the dragon, hoping to catch It off-balance.

Maxwell turned back to the queen, and the Avuir Blue rose up. It intercepted the battleaxe, deflecting its blow. The bangaa stepped sideways, and then carefully moved around the queen, not even trying to strike at her force field. She turned, trying to follow him.

Thomas jumped as he closed with Adrammalech. The dragon swiped out at him, trying to slice at the moogle with Its enormous claws. Thomas turned himself in midair, rolling his body and grabbing onto the thickly-muscled wrist. He used the grip to pull himself up and onto the dragon's arm, placing him just short of Its face.

The queen got her axe into position, and then swung it back at Maxwell. The bangaa leapt back, letting the strike pass by, and then he charged back in, bringing the Avuir Blue around. Energy began building along its edge, and all of existence started leaning in towards the tip of the blue blade.

Thomas brought his free hand forward, and whipped a knife point-blank at Adrammalech's face. The dragon simply lowered Its head, and the hard scales along Its forehead deflected the weapon. As It brought Its head back upwards, It opened Its mouth, and Thomas saw a bright light gathering in the back of Its throat, preparing to rush upwards and consume him.

The queen tried to step back, but she was still off-balance from the powerful swing she'd made against the dragoon. As such, when Maxwell finally bellowed out, "_Ultima_!", her force field took the full brunt of the attack. Energy exploded from the point of contact, and all of the light and sound in the room dimmed for a moment as the blue weapon dragged along the solid, invisible surface. There was a long moment when everything seemed to freeze, and then suddenly everything returned to normal, and the queen was sent stumbling back, completely off-balance.

Just as that terrible light began pouring forth from Adrammalech's jaws, Thomas heard a voice crying out from just to the side. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw dark energy flaring up from beside one of the pillars. Abruptly, the air all around the moogle and the dragon grew cold, and Adrammalech's eyes widened as ice abruptly formed in Its mouth. A massive hunk of ice filled Its mouth and wrapped partway around Its snout, effectively plugging Its mouth.

The queen fell back, knocked completely off-balance by the strike of Ultima. Two columns groaned, and their surfaces splintered slightly as her force field came into contact with them. She just managed to get her feet underneath her, and she turned to face Maxwell. Her eyes narrowed on him, and she started raising her axe again. She was just about to charge forward at him, but she stopped very abruptly, her eyes widening as she felt something wrapping around her left foot. She glanced down, and saw a black tendril reaching up and coiling around her ankle. She stared at it for a solid five seconds, not understanding. No power could penetrate her shield. She was the only thing that could let anything pass through… She blinked, and then stared up at Maxwell as she recalled. She'd given him a portion of her power. He was penetrating her shield by using her own power against her.

Thomas took the opportunity to leap back and off of the dragon's wrist as the great beast rocked Its head back and forth, trying to shatter the ice in its mouth. Just as It reached up to claw at it, though, Marche streaked in, his knightsword swinging in at the dragon's exposed side. Adrammalech staggered back a step, bringing Its powerful arms down to deflect the blow. Marche kept up his assault, forcing the dragon back step after step to keep the knightsword at bay.

Maxwell quickly summoned more tendrils, wrapping them around the pillars on either side of the queen for support. The inky blackness reached for her, passing through the shield as though it weren't even there. The queen thrashed, swiping out with her battleaxe at the approaching tendrils. She held out for a moment, but then one of them coiled around her right forearm. As it yanked that limb out to the side, her remaining arm and leg were quickly captured. She was yanked out spread-eagle, her eyes wide as she glared at Maxwell. All of her considerable muscles began bulging as she pulled at her shadowy bindings, already beginning to strain them with just her brute force. Knowing that he wouldn't have much time, Maxwell took a deep breath, and then focused on the Avuir Blue. He'd only ever done this with a spear before, but he figured the magic-attuned blade would pick up on it quickly. He was rewarded when the blue metal darkened somewhat, and then began dripping dark, oily shadows. He kept focusing on the weapon as he raised it, and began advancing on the queen.

Thomas stared, watching as Marche battered Adrammalech back step after step with powerful, brutal strikes. The dragon was moving sluggishly, having trouble lining up Its attacks with the added weight of the ice in Its mouth and the awkward angle it forced It to hold Its head at. Its powerful arms and sharp claws were useless for anything more than blocking attacks, or occasionally keeping Marche at bay for a second. Very quickly, It was backed up against one of the columns lining the room, and there It tried to make a stand. Much to Thomas's surprise, though, the paladin simply threw himself forward, dropping his sword. He didn't even try to strike at It; instead he just grabbed at Its arms, and through brute force managed to yank both of them up and to the left, keeping them at an awkward angle. For a second, the two of them stood there, struggling against each other. Then, quite abruptly, Adrammalech's entire body twitched, and Its struggles stopped. An instant later, a dark figure appeared, standing carefully between the paladin and the dragon. Marche stepped back, and the dark figure followed a moment later, ripping a katana dripping with dark blood free from Adrammalech's neck. Vili jumped back lightly on her feet, her chest heaving, and the dragon toppled over with a deafening crash.

The queen watched Maxwell carefully, observing all of his movements. He was stepping slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on the blade. It was clearly taking a lot of concentration for him to maintain the charge of her energy on the weapon. The spear she had given him had been specifically designed to amplify dark energy. The Avuir Blue was nowhere near as attuned. He couldn't maintain the charge necessary to actually strike at her while paying attention to everything going on around him. Slowly, she grinned, and glanced over at the axe still clutched in her bound right hand. It was made entirely of dark energy that she made. With a deft movement, she flicked her wrist. The weapon started falling, but then rose up on its own, guided solely by her concentration. She turned her gaze upon Maxwell. That smile on her face widened, her eyes narrowed, and she gave a slight nod.

In the silence after Adrammalech's collapse, there was a sudden sound of rushing air. Then, there was the horrific sound of flesh parting. Thomas turned away from staring at Marche and Vili and the totema's body, and he nearly fell over as he saw Maxwell.

The bangaa stood, swaying on his feet, with the Avuir Blue still clutched in his hands. The dark charge of energy he'd had on it had already disappeared. His eyes were no longer focused on the blue weapon, though. Instead, he was staring with dull shock at the massive, dark battleaxe, its head buried deep in his chest.

The only sound in the entire throne room was the bangaa's heavy, rough breathing. With each exhale, the sound grew more haggard and wet. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the Avuir Blue dipped, and then slipped from his hands, clattering on the floor. He staggered back half a step, as though trying to keep himself standing. Even the queen didn't move as Guinness ran over towards the bangaa, the sudden movement seeming to have broken the spell on the nu mou. He grabbed the bangaa's arms as he went down to his knees, still staring at the axe embedded in his chest.

White light began building around Guinness, but it stopped a moment later as the nu mou shook his head. It was clear that it was only the nu mou's strength that was keeping the body from flopping over as he slowly laid it back, laying it out.

Thomas could feel his heartbeat in his ears, roaring in the silence of the throne room. His eyes were locked on the bangaa's body, entirely motionless. A pool of blood was beginning to grow out around him, staining Guinness's fine purple robes. Sure, he and Maxwell had never gotten along. In St Ivalice, Thomas had felt almost certain that he'd hated the larger boy. Even in Ivalice, he'd hated the bangaa's strength and confidence, and that cold, unfeeling look he could summon at a moment's notice. But still, Maxwell had been the last thing tying him back to St Ivalice. Suddenly, he was alone. Frighteningly alone, with nothing familiar left in the entire world.

"He was brave."

Remedi's voice echoed in the otherwise silent throne room, and Thomas, Marche, and Vili all turned to look at her. Guinness was still leaning over Maxwell, slowly reaching to close the bangaa's eyes.

"A brave, powerful fool. Regardless of who wins this war, they will sing songs about his—"

Her voice was lost as Guinness suddenly spun around and raised both of his hands. He roared out a command word for a spell, and lightning erupted from his palms, rushing forward in blinding lines towards the Queen. She didn't even react, waiting for her shield to take the blow. She was not the only one who was surprised when the bolts of lightning actually thundered in and slammed against her chest. She was thrown back by the electricity, and Guinness stood up, feeding more energy to his spell. The queen writhed in position for a moment, occasionally letting out a jittering scream of pain.

Abruptly, darkness burst outwards from her, washing out from the queen in a wave. It slammed into Guinness, and knocked him back half a step. The nu mou lost his concentration, and his spell cut out.

Remedi was already standing up again, holding a hand out as the last of the electricity arched in towards her. Abruptly, the energy bent and gathered in her open palm, concentrating there. It formed into a tight ball of writhing, blinding energy, trying to break free from her control. The queen herself looked wild; there were dark red burns drawn across her pale skin, and her red hair had broken free from its well-tended arrangement in places. Her eyes were wide and furious, and her voice thundered as she spoke.

"One nu mou, one viera, and one human during the War of Ambervale. One moogle out in the city at Maxwell's hand. One bangaa just now at my hand. The Prophecy of Five Bloods is fulfilled." Her chest heaved once, and then she roared out, "Beg for your lives."

She turned suddenly, and whipped out the hand that held the ball of energy. Lightning, tinged with Remedi's dark energy, rushed out from it in a straight line directly at Vili. The viera fell back a step, caught completely by surprise as the energy thundered in towards her.

Just as it would have hit her, Marche dove in front of her, holding his shield out in front of himself. There was a moment where he hung in the air, electricity coursing over the surface of his shield as he sheltered Vili from the spell. The shield slowly grew lighter and lighter, the steel going from blueish grey to red, to orange, before reaching a blinding yellow. The acorn design across the front of it fizzled, and then disappeared amongst the heat.

The shield burst, exploding into several pieces that went flying across the room. Marche called out, and was thrown backwards by the momentum. His body slammed into Vili, and the two of them fell in a heap.

Guinness had just managed to get up to his feet, and he stepped forward, beginning to gather his energy. He stepped over Maxwell's body, standing between it and the queen, and raised his hands.

The queen was suddenly in front of him. The words to his spell died in his throat, and his eyes widened in surprise as she rushed him. He fell over backwards in surprise, scrabbling to try and get a spell off.

In response, the queen simply raised her foot, and then brought it back down lightning fast on his kneecap. There was a horrendous crunch, and Guinness roared in pain. The queen kept her heel planted on his shattered knee, grinding her weight down upon it to keep him from escaping or concentrating on a spell.

It was at this moment that Thomas joined the fight. He rushed in, whipping a knife at the queen's head. She turned sharply, pulling her foot away from the nu mou. She raised a hand, and there was a flash of darkness as she deflected the missile.

Thomas kept the barrage up, summoning knife after knife and making sure there was a constant stream of missles heading for Remedi's face. He had to keep her moving, had to keep her from talking at all. One word was all it would take… one word…

Abruptly, she lunged forward, ducking beneath one of his knives. Thomas cried out in surprise as her hand reached out, and he tried to backpedal away from her. The slightly burned fingers came forward, and dug firmly into the cloth of his shirt. As they started pulling on him, he yelped out, and brought one of his knives down on instinct.

The queen screeched, pulling her hand back as a thin red line opened along her wrist. She hugged it to her chest for an instant, before looking up and glaring at Thomas.

Their eyes met, and Thomas felt a breath fill his lungs as he drew his hand back, a knife already in it. She was raising her uninjured hand, and he could see the muscles flexing as she raised one finger towards him. Adrenaline screamed through his veins as his hand whipped forward, nearly spraining his wrist as he tried to get that knife in the air.

As his hand arched forward, she opened her mouth. He closed his eyes, wincing and looking away as his fingers opened, and he felt the hilt of the knife leaving his hands at the exact same time as her voice rang out in his ears.

"Dispell."

As the knife spun through the air, there was an almost imperceptible ripple through the air, running from her over to him. It hit him in the chest without him feeling it, but he still staggered back, staring down at himself.

He looked up at the queen just in time to see the dagger slam into her chest. As she began falling back, though, his head rocketed back, his nose flattening against his face and blood spattering from his nostrils. As he started falling back, there was hideous cracking noise, and a dozen bones broke all across his body. The moogle took one last step back, placing him just on the edge of the stairs leading to the lower level. He teetered there for an instant, trying to maintain his balance.

Abruptly, he was thrown backwards, and his voice came out in a thin, wheezy whimper of pain as his chest opened, and blood splattered from him.

He fell through the air for a moment before his body hit the stairs, and he rolled. He didn't feel most of it; he was too far gone at that point to feel much of anything. His body flopped and rolled down, coming to a halt at the stairs.

He lay there, eyes wide, and chest heaving as it begged for air that wouldn't come. He could just feel blood dripping from his mouth, leaking from his nose, pouring from his chest.

It was just as the blackness was consuming that he heard footsteps running past him on the floor. He didn't pay them much attention; he was too focused on a second set of footsteps moving more slowly. He felt more than saw somebody kneeling down next to him, and a hand reaching down to grasp his shoulder.

Thomas, with the little bit of strength he had left, managed to turn his head. He couldn't raise it enough to see much, but what he did saw reached past the pain and the shock in his head. He saw a leg, bent in a crouch. The leg belonged to a moogle, and the fur was brown.


	135. Li Grim

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long. I've already written about half of the next and last chapter, which will be _long_. I had the entire thing written for about a month there, but I just left it sitting on my computer because I didn't like it. I've since deleted a huge amount of it and started on it again. Again, sorry this is taking so long to do, but these chapters have been very difficult for me to write.

* * *

The rain hitting the ground sounded like gunfire. Millions upon millions of guns all firing off, thundering around him in a cacophonic roar. At first all he could do was slowly pull his numb limbs in, balling himself up and trying to cover his ears.

As he lay there trying to block out the horrible sound, the individual thuds of the fat raindrops hitting his body started registering. At first, it was subtle, almost like wind billowing and pushing his clothing against his skin. Skin… fur? Fur. Or would it be skin? His thoughts were thick and slow, and they were getting harder to put together as the raindrops started feeling like fingers drumming on him all across his body.

When the individual drops started stinging, he finally groaned, and tried to open his eyes. All he could see were a couple wet and broken cobblestones, and his own arms as he covered his head.

What the hell happened?

Slowly, very slowly, Isaac reached out and placed his hand on the ground. He rolled himself over onto his front, the movement difficult and slow. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, and shook with the effort of simply holding himself in that position.

The moogle stared down at his hand on the ground, the fingers flexing occasionally as they worked to keep him up. He turned his gaze downwards at himself, and his eyes widened as he saw that he was covered in soot.

That didn't make sense. He was in a rainstorm. The only way he could have been burned was if he'd been struck by lightning, but then he'd be dead.

Slowly, Isaac crawled along the street. As he moved, the knots in his muscles began loosening up. By the time he reached the shelter of one of the eves overhanging the street, his arms were no longer shaking with the effort of keeping himself up. He pulled himself into the relative dryness, and sat with his back up against the wall. His chest rose and fell for a short while as he caught his breath.

The moogle raised his paw in front of his face, and slowly worked his fingers, watching them move. It felt odd, for some reason he couldn't work out. It was… the normalcy. The sheer normalcy of everything, and how his body was working without difficulty. Why was that weird…

Isaac sighed, and closed his eyes. He shook his head to get some of the rainwater out of his fur, and reached that hand up to rub at his forehead. It was at his fingers moved up and brushed against the rim of his hat that he paused. He remained motionless for several long seconds, and then finally closed his fingers around the rim and lifted the fedora from his head. He opened his eyes as he held it in front of his face, and stared.

The thing had been destroyed. There was a massive hole in the black felt, centred just on the left side. The edges of the hole were thin and withered, and the rest of the felt was charred and stained with soot. The moogle glanced down at his soot-streaked clothes and fur, and then looked back to the burnt hat. His eyes focused on the centre of the hole, and he realised that it was exactly where the feather had been. The orange-ish red feather that Lini had given him after the original feather was lost in Sprohm…

The moogle's entire body stiffened, and his hand flew up to grope at his neck. He remembered Maxwell standing above him, and the Materia Blade coming down and biting through his throat.

Maxwell had killed him.

He'd been dead.

His eyes focused on that hole again, and he suddenly remembered the look on Lini's face when she'd handed him the hat. He'd left it behind without a thought three years earlier; he'd barely even remembered it until Lini took it out of that package and passed it to him. But she'd been so insistent on giving it to him, on making sure he got it and hoping that he would wear it again.

The moogle didn't move for a long time. Phoenixes were dangerous and rare creatures. They were considered myths or fairy tales in most of Ivalice. Occasionally, adventurers that got lost in the deep, wild parts of Ivalice told stories of seeing them: enormous birds made entirely of flame, constantly burning alive until they ran out of fuel, only to snuff out and burst back into new life. A creature terrifying and beautiful to behold, but every legend of them told of the amazing reward of finding a young, newly rekindled one.

"For Famfrit's sake, Lini," Isaac finally whispered. "You thought of bloody everything."

The moogle dropped the remains of that hat, and stood up. He stumbled, and had to hold out a hand against the wall to steady himself. He stood there for a few moments, slowly getting his balance back. Then, he turned and looked into the street. His eyes scanned it for a short while before they settled on the Materia Blade, half covered by a growing puddle. The moogle stepped out from beneath the eve, and staggered over to the blade. He bent over very slowly and carefully, swaying on his feet, and scooped the weapon up.

It took Isaac a good while to reach the palace. At first, the going was painfully slow and awkward, and he wound up using the Materia Blade as a crutch for quite a while. As he moved, though, his footing became more sure, and his grip on the weapon more stable. His back straightened, and eventually he was able to walk along upright at a decent pace. His feet occasionally slipped on the wet stones, but he moved more or less steadily the entire way.

By the time Isaac reached the main doors of the Palace, he was feeling as strong as he'd been before Maxwell had… well, before Maxwell had killed him. He was freezing cold from the rain and the wind, but beside that he was fine. The moogle placed his weight against the doors, and felt them slowly swing inwards. He stepped through into the shelter of the palace, and then finally gave himself a full body shake. Rainwater fell away from him as he stood there, catching his breath and beginning to warm up.

When the moogle finally looked up, his eyes widened, and he almost stepped back outside. The entire entrance hall was strewn with the carcasses. There were dozens of them, from monsters of all kinds. It looked like there had been an incredible battle there; an all out melee between all of the different species. Bodies marked with clawed gashes, acid burns, bites, and frozen skin and scales littered the granite floors all the length of the hallway.

Isaac stared at them in silence for a few moments, watching for any movement that would suggest anything was still alive. After probably a good minute of just standing there, he hesitantly stepped forward. He was careful to step around the corpses as much as possible, occasionally having to jump over a limb that lay in his path.

As the moogle drew closer to the centre of the hall, though, he was surprised to find a space that seemed mostly unmarked by the monsters' fighting. He hesitated before stepping into the relatively clean space, afraid that there might be some sort of a spell or trap that had kept the monsters at bay. When he stepped forward, though, nothing happened.

The moogle stood in the centre of the carnage for a moment, still turning around and staring at everything. When nothing moved again, the moogle finally sighed and walked forward, heading for the doors that led deeper into the palace.

As he pushed through the doors, his eyes were greeted with a long, wide hallway. He assumed that the throne room would be directly ahead, so he started walking forward. He hadn't gone more than a few steps, though, when he stopped, his body tensing. He felt his eyes fluttering with exhaustion, and he glanced around in confusion.

His eyes fell on a side door off to his right. He wasn't sure why, but he felt drawn to that doorway. He watched it carefully, and slowly licked his lips. He took a careful step towards it, and a sudden wave of exhaustion rolled over him. He blinked in surprise, and had to reach out and grab onto the wall to keep from falling to his knees. A powerful yawn wracked his body, and his eyes closed fully for an instant.

…_slash, duck, back up, double thrust, step to the left, step by, turn…_

Isaac looked up again, his eyes opening. He was on his knees, and he was leaning fully against the wall. He pushed himself up to his feet, and then started walking towards the door. He ducked through, and walked along the smaller hallway there for a short while. He'd recognized that feeling. He'd only felt anything like it once before, when he'd had to use his third eye on Caitlin in Bervenia. However, that time it had felt nowhere near as strong as this.

Last time he'd still felt a bit of… well, a bit of Caitlin in the thoughts. This time, there was nothing but movement and commands. They hadn't even felt like thoughts. He wasn't even sure that he had been tapping into Caitlin there; he assumed it was her, because he couldn't imagine there being a third person with a third eye in the palace, but he couldn't pick out anything to identify her by.

He reached a door on the left that led to a spiral staircase downward. He took the steps quickly, his pace picking up as he got lower. He occasionally felt more waves of exhaustion washing over him, and he was having to actively hold back his visions to keep from falling asleep. He'd never felt the third eye being so forceful before. Caitlin must have been relying heavily on her third eye for him to be drawn in like this.

He reached the bottom of the staircase, and without hesitation began running along the passageway. It was almost pitch black down here, but Isaac moved without difficulty. He remembered where to place his feet from having slipped into Caitlin's mind. Her sharp, focused thoughts were all he needed.

The moogle stopped as he heard sounds from in front of him. It was the very clear ringing of metal off of metal echoing down the passageway. He only hesitated for a heartbeat before he rushed down the hall again, the sounds getting louder all around him. It sounded like she could have been fighting a dozen enemies at once from all of the clashing swords, and yet Isaac didn't hear any voices.

Then, very abruptly, the sounds stopped. Isaac actually stumbled to a stop in surprise. There were a few long seconds during which he just stared forward, waiting for more noise. None came, though. It was during this silence that Isaac realised that his exhaustion was lifting somewhat.

It didn't take him long to put two and two together.

He started forward again, walking purposefully down the dark hallway. His paw found its way down to the hilt of the Materia Blade as he moved.

He stopped walking as a voice from up ahead broke the silence.

"Isaac?"

Isaac's breath caught in his throat for a moment. He coughed once to clear it, and then replied, "Caitlin? Is that you, kupo?"

A few seconds of silence. "Yes."

Isaac sighed. He stepped forward. "Thank Famfrit. I could… feel you fighting. Third Eye I suppose. You're alright, though?" The moogle looked down towards his blade through the darkness, and started focusing on it, trying to charge it with a fireshot.

"No!" Caitlin's voice interrupted him, throwing his concentration off. He looked up into the blackness again, and she went on. "I can feel you. Don't… don't start up a light."

Isaac didn't move for a bit. Caitlin's voice had an odd edge to it. There was aggression, but it was almost hollow. Finally, after a long silence, Isaac asked, "Are you alright, kupo?"

"I'm fine," Caitlin replied. There was another brief silence, and then she said, "Would you just… go back upstairs? I'll follow after you. No light."

Isaac nodded slowly. He knew she couldn't see him, but she seemed to know everything else he was doing, so he left it at that. The moogle turned, and then walked away. Shortly after he started, his ears twitched, and he heard Caitlin's footsteps behind him.

It took a short time for him to get up the stairs in the darkness. His steps were unsteady and stumbling now that the third eye connection with Caitlin was getting weaker. All the while behind him, Caitlin's confident steps paced his.

Finally, light began filtering down the spiral staircase. The moogle went up two more rounds of the staircase, and then stepped out into the hallway. He waited patiently as Cailtin's footsteps echoed up to him, getting louder.

The moogle's eyes only widened a bit when Caitlin came into view, covered in blood. He managed to catch himself, though, and stepped towards her. She held up a hand, though, stopping him. The moogle obeyed, giving her a closer once over. The blood was't her own; or at least most of it wasn't. The soldier was covered in small cuts and slashes, and had one larger, long wound open along her forearm. Her chest was rising and falling, but Isaac couldn't hear her heavy breaths.

At length, the moogle asked again, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"Your arm's hurt," the moogle said tentatively. "Can I heal it up for you?"

The human glanced down to the slash in her forearm, then nodded. Isaac stepped in closer, and silver light shone from his hands. The light sank into Caitlin's wound, and the slash narrowed a bit. The moogle and the human were both quiet as he worked.

"Hey Isaac."

The moogle's eyes flicked up to Caitlin's scarred face. "Yeah?"

"You and Robert always got along."

"Yeah, kupo."

Caitlin kept quiet for a few seconds after that. Isaac worked on in silence, knowing better than to push her.

Finally, Caitlin just muttered, "I miss him." Her voice was heavy. Tired. When Isaac glanced to her face again, there were no tears.

He licked his lips, and then ventured, "Did you love him?"

She actually grinned at that. "No. Well, not like that. He was… he wasn't like a brother. But I guess I did love him."

The two lapsed into silence again. Isaac wasn't sure how to talk with the normally closed and aggressive fighter. She seemed content to just stand there and let him do what he could for her wounds.

"Sorry," she finally said. "I guess you don't need to hear this from me."

"It's alright, kupo."

She nodded. "It's just that… well, I guess everything's going to end soon, one way or another. The two of us have never really been close or anything. But I don't think I'll get another chance to talk to somebody before… whatever happens."

Isaac was about to reply, but he stopped, his entire body tensing and the silvery light dying on his hands. Caitlin noticed the change, and eyed him sharply.

"Somebody just used Ultima," he finally said. "Maxwell's fighting."

"Maxwell? But I thought that because you were here, he—"

"He killed me," Isaac cut her off, and she just stared at him. He swallowed. "We should go."

The soldier nodded, and then the two of them took off at a run down the hallway. They turned back into the main hall, and tore along that. It took them about a minute to finally reach the massive double doors that led into the throne room, and they each slammed their shoulders into them to knock them open.

As the doors opened, both of them stopped, staring as a body flew from the upper level, landing heavily at the base of the stairs. It slid a few feet, trailing blood all the way, and came to a halt not too far from a massive suit of armour that appeared to be bleeding out.

Wordlessly, Isaac and Caitlin rushed forward. The soldier rushed by the body and took the stairs up two at a time, but Isaac stopped to check who it was.

He couldn't make out much at first; there was definitely fur on the body, but it wasn't easy to tell much else from all of the blood. As he knelt closer, though, Isaac felt the air catching in his throat. That fur was definitely white, and the body was much too small to belong to a nu mou.

Isaac leaned over the body, and nearly jumped when he saw the chest rise and fall once. Immediately, he took the shoulders, and turned the body very gingerly so that he could see into the face. "Thomas? Famfrit, Thomas, is that you?"

The eyes finally opened, and blinked as blood dripped into them. The juggler took another long, haggard breath, and then rasped out, "Isaac. Max said you were dead."

Isaac stared at Thomas for a long moment, unable to answer. Finally, he managed to swallow the lump forming in the back of his throat, and he whispered, "Well, he was wrong last time, kupo."

If the juggler heard the response, he didn't show it. Instead, he just shook himself again and said, "He saved us."

"Who? Maxwell?"

"Yeah. He's dead. Died saving us. I'm sorry."

Isaac's mouth felt very dry. He coughed once to clear his throat, and finally said, "You have nothing to apologize for."

"Couldn't help him. I think… I think I got the queen, though. I'm nobody's dog."

"I know, kupo."

"Sorry I couldn't save… and that I'm…"

Isaac forced out a chuckle, and then muttered, "Stop apologizing you idiot."

Again, it wasn't clear if Thomas heard. He lay still for a few more long seconds, breathing haggardly. When he did speak again, his voice was even weaker. "Stay with me. I don't want to…" His voice cut out into a harsh, wet-sounding wheeze. His body shook with the force, and a grimace crossed his face.

Isaac nodded very, very slowly. He slid his hand down into Thomas's, and gave it a squeeze. He didn't get a squeeze back, but he didn't expect one. "I'm right here, kupo."

There was a rustling not far away, but Isaac ignored it. He remained where he was, and didn't jump when he heard Grans' voice.

"That Maxwell doesn't know his strength. Said he was going to just stun me for a bit… knocked me clean out." Isaac heard her stepping up closer, and he knew she was just behind him. There was a moment of silence, and then she said, "You two stay here. I don't think this battle is over quite yet, but we'll handle it from here."

Neither of the moogles responded. Isaac felt her hand come down lightly on his shoulder and give it a squeeze. Then she moved away, leaving the two of them as they were.

* * *

Montblanc watched Mewt for the entire battle. As far as Montblanc could tell, Mewt had altered the protective orb they sat in to make it invisible to all of the others in the room. The human's face didn't change for much of the combat; it kept its shadowed, reserved expression all throughout. The moogle frequently felt the urge to just lunge at the human and force him to help. Montblanc knew very well that his friends were outmatched.

When Maxwell marched up the staircase carrying Thomas, Montblanc very nearly lost his control. The news of Isaac's death didn't even faze Mewt. Not that it would; the prince had never met the mogknight. However, it seemed to tug harder at Montblanc than it ought to have for some reason.

He held it in, though. Montblanc knew that the human was still carrying that knife. The moogle was getting a bit dizzy from blood loss, now. He would only get himself killed by trying to force Mewt.

The prince's face didn't waver until Maxwell staggered back from attacking the queen, that dark axe embedded in his chest. Montblanc started shaking when he saw that, and the moogle knew it was from more than just loss of blood. When he looked over at Mewt, though, Montblanc was surprised to see a tremor run through the human's face. It was only momentary, but it was definitely there. Mewt's face immediately returned to its placid state, but it wasn't quite as cold as before.

When the battle rejoined, it was short and brutal. Montblanc nearly looked away as his clanmates were beaten back. He flinched when Marche was thrown back into Vili, and he finally couldn't hold back. "Help them, kupo."

Mewt didn't respond. He was staring, his mouth wide open. As the queen shattered Guinness's knee, a horrified look crossed the human's face. Montblanc glared at him, and yelled this time. "Those are my friends. That's your friend! Help them!"

The moogle looked back just in time to see Thomas square off with the queen. Montblanc thought he would be sick as he recalled the juggler's words, that the queen could kill him with a word. "Please stop this. You can stop her."

"I can't…"

"You can! That book is powerful! You can stop her!"

"She's my mother!"

"She'll _kill_ him!"

At that moment, Thomas threw one last knife. As it left his hand, the juggler suddenly flew backwards, blood exploding from him. An instant later, the knife thudded squarely into Remedi's chest, and she fell back.

Mewt and Montblanc were silent as they stared in horror. Thomas hit the ground with a dull thud and didn't move. The queen lay on the granite, shaking occasionally before finally going still. Blood expanded out from both of them in pools.

"He killed her."

Montblanc swallowed back the revulsion building in his guts and looked over at Mewt. The prince's face was pale, his fingers shaking on the book. The moogle took a deep breath. "And she killed him. That's what happens in conflicts like this."

"She's dead. Again. It's just like…" The prince's voice faltered, and he didn't go on.

"I'm sorry, kupo."

Mewt didn't respond. He was staring wide-eyed at his mother's body. Then, quietly, he whispered, "No."

"Kupopo?"

Before Montblanc had even finished the question, Mewt had the book open. He snapped his fingers, and the golden quill reappeared in his fingers. Montblanc felt panic rushing through him, and he lunged towards the human. Before he got more than a step, though, the pen had pressed against the paper.

Light exploded from the book, flooding the prince as he wrote. It roared over Montblanc, gold and blinding. The moogle fell back, covering his eyes and crying out. There was a deafening roar, and Montblanc knew that it wasn't just being contained to their little bubble of space.

Just as suddenly as the light appeared, it went out. Montblanc pulled his hands away from his face, blinking to clear the sunspots from his vision. Just next to him, he could hear Mewt panting; it was the only sound in the entire room.

Down below, Marche was helping Vili up to her feet. The two of them were looking around, tense and alert as they searched for the source of the light. Guinness had gotten up into a sitting position, a pained look on his face as he too scoured the room.

"What did you do?" the moogle finally whispered, not even looking over at the prince.

"I won't watch her die again." Mewt's voice was soft but steady. The door to the throne room swung open, but neither Mewt nor Montblanc turned to look at it as the prince went on. "Last time I couldn't do anything. This time I can."

As he finished speaking, Montblanc's eyes were drawn to movement by the queen's body. At first it was just a small twitch. Then, Remedi's chest jerked upwards and remained there, unnaturally lifted from the stones. Slowly, it rose further, pulling the rest of the body up with it. Her arms and legs hung lifelessly at her sides as she rose up, as though somebody were lifting her by the knife sticking from her chest.

As her body left the granite fully, it gave an unnatural spasm. Beneath her, the stones began glowing, a pale blue light gathering along the surface and gradually rising in a column to enshroud her. The light seeped into the queen's body, and her skin began tinting with the colour.

The hairs all across Montblanc's body began prickling up on end. He swallowed, and then repeated, his voice harsher, "What did you do, kupo?"

"I'm feeding her a portion of the Gran Grimoire's power."

The moogle's pulse quickened. "How much?"

Remedi's body twitched, and her eyes opened. They glowed with intense blue light, and the light flooding into her intensified. Montblanc felt Mewt tense next to him, and the dread running through him got stronger. The queen slowly rose up until she was in a standing position. She twisted, cracking her back as her skin grew harder and began glowing with its own blue light.

"It's been far too long," she finally said. Her voice still sounded much like Remedi's, but it had a slightly odd, resonant quality to it. It set Montblanc's teeth on edge.

She made a sharp, whipping motion with each of her wrists, and the fabric of her clothing tore apart as her arms extended out into crystalline blades. Her back arched, and the rest of her clothing tore away as all of her skin turned into pale blue crystal, her features twisting and morphing. Mewt's cry of terror was lost as her legs fused together and a deep, purple glow struck up from deep in her core.

That's when she turned and fixed her eyes directly onto Mewt and Montblanc. The moogle froze, his heart in his throat.

"How much power did you give her?"

Mewt didn't respond. He simply stared at the creature that had overtaken his mother, his face a mask of horror.

The creature raised one of its arms to point at the two of them.

"It can't penetrate this shield," Mewt muttered. "It's impossib—"

The purple light in the creature's core pulsed, and the multicoloured shell of protection surrounding Montblanc and Mewt shattered. Before the final shards of the shield had finished dissipating, the creature's bladed arm lunged forward, stretching out towards Mewt.

Montblanc hit the boy in a tackle, closing his eyes and focusing on the boots on his feet. There was an instant of disorientation, and then he and Mewt hit the ground on the opposite side of the throne room, right next to the railing between the upper and lower sections of the room. Montblanc turned just in time to see the blade smash into the stone sculpture they'd been perched on. There was a crash as the stone shattered and dust exploded from the point of impact.

"She attacked me." Mewt's voice was distant. Montblanc glanced up at him; he still had his arms around the boy's waist. The prince's eyes were wide, his face pale. "Why would she attack me?"

"Because that thing isn't your mother, kupo!" Montblanc snapped at him. He'd spoken to Eileen about her theories a few times over the past year; now all of the nu mou's words came pouring out of his mouth. "It's Li Grim, the goddess of dreams! Her power must be bound by that book you're carrying. She's been posing as your mother to get close to you since this whole thing started. Now, you've given her some of her powers back, so she must not need you anymore!"

"That can't—"

The human's words died on his lips as Li Grim turned her head towards the two of them. The two glowing sparks of purple light that made up her eyes narrowed, and her other arm came up, lancing forward at them faster than Montblanc could react.

Something streaked in between Li Grim and her prey, and there was a terrible screeching of metal. Caitlin's swords shook as they held Li Grim's arm back, the human's feet set to hold her ground.

"Cait?"

"Get to the lower level!" The human's voice was strained, and sweat was already breaking out across her brow from the effort of holding Li Grim back. "Isaac's there. He can cover you two while we fight this."

Montblanc nodded, and grabbed Mewt's hand. The human seemed surprised by the contact, and was too stunned to resist as the moogle pulled him towards the stairs, leaving Caitlin to her struggle.

Caitlin breathed a strained sigh of relief as she heard Montblanc and the human retreating. Li Grim's eyes were locked on her, and somehow she knew that they were furious.

Before the creature could attack, though, she had to turn, pulling away from her strike against Caitlin. Her two bladed arms rose in a cross above her head as Marche lunged in, bringing his knightsword down on her. Li Grim let out an odd noise, and then pushed forward.

Marche held his strike for about a second before he was lifted clean off his feet and thrown back. He slid along the granite floor for several meters before he managed to roll backwards and back up to his feet.

The paladin stood there gasping for breath, his knightsword grasped in both hands. Li Grim watched him carefully, and then slowly turned her gaze to look at Caitlin. The fighter was joined a few seconds later by Grans as the nu mou walked up the stairs to stand next to her. Finally, Li Grim turned her gaze over to Guinness, still on one knee next to Maxwell's body.

"I assume the viera is somewhere nearby?" Li Grim's voice had an unnatural echo to it, making it sound almost hollow. "So I face the assembled strength of Clan Nutsy."

"Stand ready, everyone." Marche's voice was low. He had lowered himself down into a fighting stance, and his knightsword was pointed carefully at Li Grim.

"This clan has been the one flaw in my otherwise perfect world." Li Grim was quiet for half of a breath. "Now I finally get to wipe it away for good. Of course, I have to make sure that brat doesn't escape…"

She pointed at the ground at her feet, and the granite reared up sharply, rising into two identical shapes. The odd bulge of stone quickly gained detail, armour and limbs taking form and hardening into steel. All five of the members of Nutsy immediately identified the figures as twin representations of Mateus, the Totema of the humans.

As they finished forming, Li Grim spoke again. "Go. Slaughter the moogles. Bring the prince to me."

Wordlessly, the two Mateus nodded, and then sank back into the granite. As they disappeared, Li Grim stretched. "Come at me whenever you're ready to die."

None of the members of Clan Nutsy moved for a long time. Everybody's eyes turned slowly towards Marche, watching the human and waiting to see what he would say. The paladin's chest rose and fell very slowly, his eyes never leaving Li Grim. At last, he cleared his throat.

"Alright. Grans, you get to Guinness and get him somewhere safe so that he can heal himself up. Everybody else, don't let your guard down for even a breath."

With that, he charged.

* * *

Thomas waited until Isaac looked up before he screwed his face into a grimace. He wanted to breathe deeply, but every time his chest moved it hurt. It couldn't be long now… couldn't be… couldn't it hurry up?

Isaac was talking to somebody, but the voice was muffled, and whoever it was was outside of Thomas's range of vision. The juggler closed his eyes and tried to block out the confusion. Couldn't they just leave him in peace? He only had a bit longer to go, and then he could finally…

He felt Isaac move sharply, and opened his eyes. The brown-furred moogle was standing up and drawing the Materia Blade. He said something to whoever else was there, and then looked down to Thomas again.

"Sorry Thomas. I'm going to be right here, so don't worry."

With that, the moogle stepped away. Thomas tried to turn to watch, but couldn't see. His chest blossomed with fresh pain, and he bit his lip hard. His eyes scrunched up, and when they opened again another brown-furred moogle was leaning over him.

"Thomas, kupo?" Montblanc. It was Montblanc. The former mage glanced towards somebody behind him. "We have to move him away. Come on, gently now."

Hands lifted Thomas, and the moogle whimpered as pain flashed through him. Somehow, he managed to gasp out, "Montblanc."

"Kupopo?"

"Who's Isaac fighting?"

Montblanc glanced away, and then back to the juggler. "Don't worry, kupo. He's alright."

"You're afraid." Thomas wheezed a bit, and then shook his head. "Isaac looked nervous, kupo. Who's he fighting?"

Montblanc was silent for a moment, a helpless look on his face. The moogle jumped when another voice, belonging to the human helping to carry Thomas, spoke.

"Two copies of Mateus. They just appeared. He's trying to hold them off while the rest of Nutsy fights m… fights Li Grim."

Thomas didn't even look at the other person. He simply nodded softly, and then muttered, "Alright. Take me to Famfrit, kupo."

He felt the two people carrying him pause. Montblanc cleared his throat. "Are you sure? That's quite a way to carry you, kupo…"

"I don't have much time left." Thomas managed to swallow, and the taste of blood filled his mouth. "Get me to Famfrit."

Montblanc and the human glanced to each other, and had a silent conversation with their eyes. Finally, they nodded, and started carrying Thomas over towards the fallen Totema. They moved slowly and carefully, not wanting to disturb the juggler too much. All the while, Montblanc was casting glances over his shoulder at the fight taking place between Isaac and Mateus.

As they drew closer to Famfrit's body, Thomas felt a buzzing in the back of his head. He closed his eyes, feeling it growing closer. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd asked Montblanc and the human to take him to the totema, but he somehow knew that it was important. If he could make it there, then maybe…

"Montblanc!"

The human yelled this, and suddenly Thomas was falling. He hit the ground with a thump, and pain rocked his body. He groaned pitifully, unable to do anything else. He shut his eyes, but an intense flash off somewhere to the side managed to glow past his eyelids. There was intense heat, and the moogle squirmed, looking away and opening his eyes.

He stared forward at the prostrate form of Famfrit, not a meter away from him. The armoured totema was lying in a puddle of Its own blood, barely even moving Its chest to breathe. His eyes were locked on It, and he couldn't look away. The sounds of battle all around him faded, and he barely even noticed the occasional tremors running through the ground. With great effort, the moogle reached forward with both hands and pulled himself towards Famfrit.

It took him longer than he thought it should have. The first tug set off lines of agony all through his body, and he had to stop moving and just lie there for a moment. As he drew closer, though, he found that the pain was getting further and further away. By the time he reached the edge of Famfrit's blood pool, he was able to hold up his torso with his hands. This allowed him to gaze down at his reflection in the pool.

The moogle took a deep breath and then spoke.

"Blood for blood and flesh for flesh, kupo." The blood dripping from his mouth didn't bother him. "Accept your avatar's sacrifice and rise to your people's aid."

The moogle kept himself in that position for a very long moment, his chest rising and falling softly as blood continued dripping away from him to mix with the Totema's on the floor.

Abruptly, his elbows gave out, and Thomas collapsed. He had a few short moments to feel the Totema's blood soaking into his fur before everything faded away.


	136. Isaac

A/N: 7 and a half years. A hell of a lot of distance travelled. A hell of a lot more growing up. Writing this chapter was one of the most emotionally draining things I've ever done. I'll post a more complete note on my profile page. Thank you everyone.

…

Isaac hit the wall hard, and all of his breath left his lungs. He forced himself to roll along the wall with the impact, his feet stumbling underneath him as the entire palace shook around him. He finally managed to get his feet firmly under him, and he stood straighter, raising the Materia Blade. He just barely got the weapon up in time for the massive axe head at the end of Mateus' weapon to smash into it.

The moogle leaned into his block, putting all his strength and weight behind it. He actually managed to hold the Totema back for a breath, but then his feet rocked back slightly, and his torso started falling. The moogle cursed under his breath, and balled up, hitting the ground hard and rolling backwards with the force of the blow.

He went end over end, rolling parallel to the wall, and finally managed to stumble back up to his feet, raising his blade in the same movement. Moonlight burst from the weapon, slashing out at Mateus. The Totema didn't even bother blocking the attack. Moonlight slammed into Its heavy armour and drew a shallow scratch into the plated steel. The Totema didn't seem to notice; It just kept coming onward.

Isaac bit back a curse, and turned to glance at the other Mateus. This one was still recovering from Its previous attack. The two of Them had come up with a very effective strategy: one would attack Isaac physically, keeping constant pressure on the moogle while the other charged up and fired off powerful magical blasts. Between the two of Them, Isaac barely had time to breathe. One alone would have been a formidable opponent. The two of Them at once were simply too much for him to handle. At this point, Isaac was just buying time for Nutsy and distracting the two Totema from Thomas, Mewt, and Montblanc. He couldn't win this fight, and he wouldn't be able to hold out for very long.

Isaac tightened his grip on the Materia Blade, both paws clamped on the hilt as Mateus drew closer. When It was about ten feet away, though, It stopped. Isaac tensed, not sure what to expect.

"Do you really still think that you can win?" Mateus' voice was every bit as disorienting as ever, speaking with the voices of countless humans. "Your courage is admirable, Isaac, but it will not serve you well this time."

The moogle eyed both copies of the Totema cautiously, but still responded. "You're only giving me time to catch my breath. Whatever your plan is, kupo, I suggest you abandon it. It won't work."

"No?"

_Everything around Isaac turned black. The moogle blinked once, and then turned sharply, trying to see anything. He could still feel the ground beneath his feet and the vibrations running through it, but he couldn't see it. He couldn't hear anything, either; none of the sounds of the battle on the upper level of the throne room were reaching his ears. When he looked down at himself, though, he could clearly see his own body._

"_You forget, Isaac." The moogle turned towards Mateus's voice, and nearly fell over. Standing before him, perfectly illuminated in the darkness, was Ben. However, it wasn't Ben as Isaac remembered him in Ivalice. This was a much younger Ben, with fully brown hair and pale blue eyes that didn't glow. He was shorter than Isaac remembered him, and his muscles far less defined. Even his skin looked different: softer and less weathered. He was wearing a simple winter jacket, not the kind that one would find in Ivalice. Ben opened his mouth and spoke. "I've watched you fail before."_

_Isaac stiffened and took an uncomfortable step backwards. Ben didn't move any further away, though. He remained in position, staring at the moogle. Isaac licked dry lips, and finally muttered, "You aren't real, kupo."_

"_Depends on what you mean by real."_

"_I saw you die."_

"_Mateus is the collective consciousness of all humans, Isaac." Ben raised an eyebrow, giving him a sarcastic, condescending look that Isaac recognized very well. "I'm just projecting one fragment of that consciousness."_

"_This isn't going to work, kupo."_

"_You've reached your limit, Isaac." Ben acted as though he hadn't even heard the moogle. "You can't win this fight, and Clan Nutsy up there can't win theirs. Besides, what are you even fighting for?"_

"_To go back," Isaac snapped, narrowing his eyes. "To make things right."_

"_All of your friends are already gone, Isaac." Ben's grin widened, and took on a cruel edge that the moogle had never seen before._

"_If we go back to St Ivalice—"_

"_They may be alive again, yes. But are any of them really your friends anymore?"_

_Isaac stopped, and stared at Ben. "What?"_

"_Think of what you've become, Isaac." The voice changed mid-sentence, getting slightly lower, and Ben's image flowed seamlessly into Maxwell's. Again, it was Maxwell as Isaac remembered him from St Ivalice: still tall and strong, but nothing compared to the bangaa that Isaac had come to know. The boy shoved his hands into his pockets, and spoke with Maxwell's calm, measured voice. "You aren't the same person you were six years ago."_

"_I've accepted that."_

"_Will they? You aren't a child anymore, Isaac. You've lost all of your innocence, but kept all the naivety. You're a pathetic shell of what you once were. Would any of them accept you?"_

_Isaac remained silent. He tried to keep up his aggressive glare, but found it faltering. Truth be told, he didn't have a response._

"_Let's look at the possibilities, Isaac." Max was using his normal rational tone. "Let's say that they actually forget everything that's happened here over the past six years. You're still going to remember." Maxwell took a step forward. Isaac tried to step back away from him, but again, it made no difference. It was as though he was suspended in the air. Maxwell held his hands outwards, and looked down at himself. "Are you going to be able to just forget the things that I've done? Will you be able to treat me the same? I killed you. I killed Ben. I was responsible for the death of Lini. You might try to bottle it up, but the signs will leak through to the surface. You'll treat me ever so slightly differently, and I'll notice it. We'll pretend nothing's the matter, but there will always be a gulf between us. Our friendship is already dead, Isaac."_

_The moogle regarded Maxwell coolly. He ignored the boy's words as much as possible. He had to focus. Mateus was just trying to throw him off. None of what the Totema was saying was true._

"_Even worse, Isaac." The voice changed, jumping in pitch. Isaac had just enough time to place that soft twang in the voice before Maxwell's body shifted and melted down, turning into Jacqueline's tall, beautiful form. She was far shorter than she'd been as a viera, and she had none of that exotic, angular build that made most viera so remarkable. However, she was every bit as beautiful, and she had that distinctly effortless way of moving and speaking that defined Jacqueline. "When you get back, you'll know the truth."_

_Isaac raised his blade in front of himself carefully. "What's that supposed to mean?"_

"_Oh, don't pretend you don't know. Was easy, wasn't it? Deciding between me and Ben?"_

"_What!?"_

"_Didn't even need to think," Jacqueline went on, ignoring him. "You saw what was happening, and you acted. Ain't too hard deciding between your best friend and his girlfriend." Jacqueline stepped closer, and this time Isaac didn't try to back away. He could feel his grip loosening on the Materia Blade, but he couldn't bring himself to bring it up again. "You were still lying to yourself when you were in St Ivalice. Now you get it, though. You don't really care about me, do you? Sure, you don't mind me, but if you had the choice I wouldn't be part of your little group of friends."_

"_Bullshit."_

"_You stabbed me in the chest, Isaac." She said it with a crooked, amused grin. "Sends a pretty clear message."_

"_I didn't have a choice!"_

"_Yes you did, Isaac. It just wasn't too hard to choose. You go back, you'll remember that. You'll know it. Can you actually face me and pretend that you care when you know how easily you'd get rid of me?" _

_Isaac searched for a reply. Finally, though, he just let out a frustrated snarl, and yelled out, "This isn't real. You aren't actually Jacqueline."_

"_On the other hand, what if we all remember?" The voice grew a bit stronger, the tone more forward as Jacqueline morphed seamlessly into Eileen. She had that rough, almost tomboyish look about her, and that same aggressive choppiness to her actions that Isaac associated with her. Her hands were on her hips, and as she spoke, he could feel the slightly harsh, belittling tone that she used sometimes. "All of us know exactly what you did. Sure, we all understand why you had to do so many terrible things and we accept them. What about the two of us?"_

_Isaac took a long few seconds to reply. Finally, he just snapped, "Stop it."_

"_I like you Isaac. You've always been a friend, and I care about you. But if we go into this, both of us are always going to remember one tiny little detail: Lini."_

"_Shut up."_

"_You were still attracted to me all the while you were with her, weren't you?" She stepped forward. Isaac knew it was pointless to try to back away, but he willed her to leave him alone, to get away. "Did you ever tell Lini how you felt about me? Tell her that you were unfaithful?"_

"_I was faithful. I was attracted to you, fine. I never acted on it, though. I was always faithful to her."_

"_Well that's what makes it even worse. It wasn't about lust. It wasn't some physical drive that you couldn't fight. You legitimately loved me all the while you were with Lini. You and I both know it. You couldn't have betrayed Lini more painfully if you had killed her yourself."_

"_I loved her!"_

"_Well then how valuable your love must be! What makes you think I would settle for somebody as pathetic as you if you can't even sort out your feelings enough to be with one person at a time? And do you actually think that Lini didn't notice?"_

_That gave the moogle pause. He stared at the girl in front of him, feeling ice running down his spine. "What?"_

"_Lini knew how to read you like an open book, Isaac. Of course she knew that you had feelings for me. All those long, lingering looks? The sweating and awkwardness whenever I was around? Everybody knew it, Isaac. To think that you thought Lini was stupid enough to not notice. I can't imagine how that must have made her feel."_

"_That's enough, kupo."_

"_The one person that she thought she could depend on, the one that managed to crack that cold shell around her, the first man she ever loved was in love with somebody else the entire time."_

"_Shut up! Just shut up! None of this is real!"_

"_You didn't deserve her, Isaac, and you don't deserve me. We could try to make things work, but they wouldn't. Eventually, I would come to my senses. You know that I'm smart enough. I would realize it eventually, and then I would leave you alone with your confusion."_

_Isaac couldn't take it. He brought the Materia Blade up, clenched in both hands, and prepared to slash. If he couldn't manage a mog lance, then he would throw the weapon at her. He didn't care. He wanted the words to end._

"_And now we'll look at the best case scenario."_

_Isaac nearly dropped the Materia Blade as Eileen's voice got lower, her form shrank, and her skin darkened. There was a fourteen-year-old version of himself before him. Although the boy was taller than him, the youth was clear in the human's face. The human looked down on him, and kept speaking._

"_Let's say that none of us remember what happened here." Isaac was barely aware of the words; he was too busy staring at the human as he spoke. "Things go back to exactly as they were before. Assuming nothing goes wrong and we don't manage to ruin it somehow, we get three and a half years with our friends. Then what? You know that there's no way Eileen, Maxwell, or Jacqueline are staying in St Ivalice, and Ben's probably going to get out as soon as he can. What about us?"_

"_It wouldn't work like that. They wouldn't just leave me behind."_

"_Oh? So you think any of them are going to stay there just for us? That any of them will give up their futures just to make us happy? Well I guess the others were right. We're just as greedy and self-centred as they thought." The boy took a step forward, and suddenly he was right in front of Isaac, staring down at him. Isaac still had the Materia Blade held above his head, but his grip was loose and flimsy. The human crouched down slightly so that his face was right in front of the moogle's, and he muttered, "It all ends the same way. We all used to fall under Mateus' dominion; It knows how we think. In the short run or the long run, you're going to end up alone."_

_Isaac stared as the human slowly reached out, his finger pointed. He brought the finger forward towards Isaac's chest. Isaac wasn't sure why, but he didn't want the human to touch him. He was afraid. Something bad would happen if that finger poked him. He tried to suck his chest in, or bring the blade down, but he couldn't. Nothing would move._

_The human's hand came to an abrupt stop not an inch from Isaac's chest. The human version of Isaac looked surprised by this, and looked away from the moogle's face to stare down at his own wrist. There was a small, white-furred paw clamped around the wrist, holding it tightly. The human tried to push forward, but his wrist wouldn't budge._

"_I think that's about enough, kupo."_

_The human version of Isaac went careening backwards, struggling to keep his feet beneath him. He tripped, and as his body touched—_

-the ground, light came rushing in to fill the darkness surrounding Isaac.

The moogle sucked in a deep, shocked breath, not moving as he watched the human version of himself melting away, turning back into the massive, armoured shape of Mateus. Isaac licked his lips, and then finally glanced over to the figure that had grabbed the Totema and thrown It away from him.

It was Thomas. Isaac's eyes got even wider if possible, and a smile started to break out across his face. It only took a moment for his good mood to falter.

It looked like Thomas. It certainly had all of his features, and it was wearing all of Thomas's clothing. However, there was something off about him. He stood a bit too straight to be the juggler, and he looked around with a disconnected superiority that Thomas had never possessed. The moogle was looking right back at Isaac, or at least towards him. It felt like those eyes were looking through him, at something far behind his body.

Isaac's voice was thin as he finally managed to ask, "Thomas, kupo?"

The thing that looked like Thomas took a few seconds to respond. Then, in Thomas's voice: "No. I'm sorry, but my Avatar is dead, kupo."

The mogknight blinked once, very slowly. He felt a small pang deep in his gut at the news that Thomas was dead, but he'd known that the moogle wasn't long for the world. However, from what the moogle had said… "Famfrit?"

"Indeed, kupo." Famfrit nodded Thomas's head. "The power of the Avatar of the Moogles: to give up his own life so that I might take control of his body and unleash my full powers."

"And what about Mateus?"

At that, Famfrit turned quickly and raised a hand. Isaac had just enough time to see movement out of the corner of his peripherals, and then Mateus's bladed weapon came down at Famfrit's head. The white moogle grabbed onto the shaft of the weapon, and the muscles all along his arm bulged out as he struggled to hold it back.

Isaac stumbled away from Mateus and Famfrit, barely keeping his feet under him. Any fight between the two of them would be well beyond anything he could handle. He'd had a taste of Mateus's power; he didn't want another.

Mateus turned Its body slightly, and It brought the other end of Its weapon around at Famfrit. The moogle released his grip on the opposite end of the weapon, and then jumped over the bladed head. He landed easily, and raised a hand towards the other Totema.

Intense white light built up in the moogle's paw, and erupted out from the palm at Mateus. The larger Totema ducked Its head and staggered away, letting Its thick armour take the blow. Wherever the light touched, the armour sizzled and the metal bubbled and burned. An acrid, bitter smell filled the air, and Famfrit stepped forward, keeping up the pressure on the other Totema.

Mateus retreated a few more steps, Its footing unsure, before it finally managed to right Itself. The Totema stood up straight, and flailed out with Its free hand at the burning light. There was a blinding flash, and Famfrit's spell sprayed out to either side, incinerating the granite wherever it touched. The two Totema stood like that for a moment, Famfrit still casting his deadly spell and Mateus somehow managing to deflect it, before both of them quite suddenly cut off their magic and charged at each other.

Isaac turned away, covering his face and backing away from the two Totema. The ground shook beneath him, and he looked around, trying to find a sign of Montblanc or Mewt. He couldn't see either of them, though. He couldn't imagine them going back to the upper level, not while Marche and the others were fighting Li Grim. He did see that the other copy of Mateus lay on the ground, the armour covering Its chest torn open. Inside, there was just a giant, empty cavity.

Isaac looked back just in time to see Mateus bring Its weapon down at Famfrit's head. Famfrit sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow. Mateus, though, had already removed one hand from the shaft of the massive weapon, and It reached out to snatch at Famfrit. Its fingers closed around his arm, and It quickly wrenched the moogle upwards.

Famfrit didn't look concerned. He immediately twisted himself until he was facing Mateus, and pointed at Its face with his free hand. Light gathered around the hand, quickly building up until it was blinding. Seeing the magical attack building, Mateus turned and threw Famfrit, sending the moogle flying across the room at one of the pillars.

Famfrit managed to turn himself in midair, flapping his wings to control himself. He hit the pillar feet-first, and his legs bunched to absorb the impact. Cracks gathered all along the granite surface, spreading out from where the moogle had landed. For one short second, Famfrit stayed there, crouched and glued to the surface of the pillar. Mateus was turning to face him, bringing Its weapon around.

Famfrit pushed off from the pillar, jumping at Mateus. As he pushed off, the cracks all along the pillar groaned, and with a roar the stone split into massive shards of granite. The moogle shot towards Mateus like a bullet, and Mateus swung Its weapon around like a club towards him.

Even Isaac's keen eyes couldn't make out the moment that Famfrit and Mateus clashed. There was a deafening crash, and blinding light shone. Isaac had to stagger back, covering his face and looking away. It only lasted for an instant, though. Isaac was left slightly unbalanced, his chest heaving and his eyes wide.

He gathered himself up, turning back to look at the outcome. Famfrit stood, his chest rising and falling heavily. The granite floor around him was scorched to black, drawing out in front of him. Pieces of broken armour were scattered across the floor in a trail leading away from him. Aside from the scorch and these bits of armour, there was no sign at all of Mateus.

Once his shock had dissipated, Isaac started towards the white moogle, stumbling a bit as he dealt with the aftershocks of the attack. "Tho—Famfrit. How did you… kupo."

The other moogle turned to look at him, and Isaac saw sweat dripping through the white fur. The Totema shook his head, though, and said, "You should know better than anybody else, Isaac. The power of a Totema, once joined with Its avatar, is far beyond the power of a Totema on its own." He looked down at the scorched remains of a pauldron at his foot, and gave it a small nudge. "Especially when it's a cheap, summoned fragment of a Totema like this."

Isaac was still having trouble keeping up with everything that was happening. As he stared at the Totema in front of him, though, he suddenly remembered. The Totema were the collective power and will of each race. Famfrit would know… well, Isaac wasn't sure how much, but a damn lot about every moogle.

"Famfrit, I have to ask you—"

"There is no time for any more questions." The Totema turned Thomas's head sharply to stare at Isaac, and then glanced up towards the upper level of the room. "Li Grim and Nutsy are still doing battle. We must help your friends."

"But I have questions, kupo."

The white moogle had already turned his back on Isaac, though, and was heading up the stairs. He didn't even look back over his shoulder as he responded. "You have many questions. Few of them have short answers. Once this battle is over, we will have time to speak."

The white moogle stepped up to the top level, and then he rushed forward, leaving Isaac's field of vision. The brown moogle stared after him, his mind whirling. After his fight Mateus, he did have questions. So many questions. But the most important question was a short one.

The moogle took a few deep breaths. His paw tightened on the hilt of the Materia Blade, almost forgotten in all that had just happened. Isaac's brow furrowed, and then he ran forward, taking the steps up to the second level two at a time.

One last time. One last fight.

Isaac came up the last step, and rushed across the upper level. In the centre of the room, Li Grim was turning and spinning, her long, bladed arms cutting swathes through the air. Everywhere they passed, the space rippled and darkened for a moment, replaced by a momentary vacuum. That light glowing deep within Li Grim was constantly flashing outward, occasionally bursting forth from the tip of one of her blade arms. Every time it did, a line of intense, purple-black energy arched away from her. The bolts, instead of roaring like normal magical energy, were greeted by a momentary dull silence. Li Grim herself looked as flawless as she'd ever been, her movements all perfectly placed and timed.

Marche and Caitlin were moving around her, parrying blows and dancing around the chaos left by her attacks. Caitlin's eyes were shut, and there was an odd, glowing spot in the centre of her forehead. She moved with inhuman grace and precision, each part of her body in constant motion. Sweat was dripping freely from her, staining through her shirt, but her face showed none of the strain. Marche's movements were nowhere near as fluid as the fighter's, but there were constant flashes of white light coming up around him. They cradled his knightsword, and seemed to add speed to his steps and his blows. Each time his sword collided with one of Li Grim's arms, the space around the impact seemed to just… fade away for a moment. It was disorienting to gaze upon, but it did nothing to slow down the paladin.

Grans and Guinness were moving slowly, torturously around the edges of the combat. The white mage's leg had a rough splint tied around it, and every time he took a step, his forehead creased and he bit down on his lip. The bolts of energy firing off from Li Grim were all directed at him, trying to strike down the mage and keep him out of the fight. Whenever one launched out, though, Grans would simply grab the mage roughly by the collar of his cloak and yank him out of the way. The motions were clearly agonizing for Guinness, and dragging the heavy mage about was beginning to take its toll on Grans as well. The remains of her whip, shrivelled and frayed, lay on the granite on the edges of the room; Isaac assumed that she'd tried to deflect one of the bolts of energy with it.

Between desperate dodges and the crippling waves of pain, Guinness was sending out intense flashes of white light towards Marche and Caitlin. Occasionally they manifested as white screens softening Li Grim's strikes. Other times, he simply healed small injuries that had appeared on either of the humans' bodies during the fighting. He didn't cast any black magic; his time was fully used up keeping Marche and Caitlin alive.

Occasionally, on the very edges of the fight, there would be a momentary flash of black. Each time, an arrow lanced out, coming at Li Grim from some sort of awkward or difficult angle. These forced her to interrupt her normal routine to deflect the arrows, affording the rest of the clan a precious instant to catch their breath. Once or twice, Li Grim actually managed to launch one of those bolts of emptiness at the flash of black. Each time, Vili would dive out of the way of the blackness, rolling away from the bolt along the granite. She would come up to her feet, take a breath, and then disappear again.

Famfrit was just wading into the melee as Isaac took the last step up to the upper level. The Totema shouldered in, and began striking at Li Grim as well. He carried no weapon, not even one of Thomas's many daggers. Instead, the moogle's paws let out concentrated blasts of burning light. Li Grim was forced to raise screens of emptiness against these blasts, shielding herself from the harmful energy. She began directing attacks against Famfrit as well, still managing to keep Caitlin and Marche on their toes. Famfrit, having no weapons to block with, was forced to dodge around these blows. He, too, avoided the swathes of dark non-energy left in the wake of her attacks.

Isaac rushed headlong into this. He brought his free hand down to clamp around the hilt of the Materia Blade as well, and lowered his head. As he charged, he felt energy building up in and around him. He felt his eyes drawn to the panels of stained glass breaking up the walls regularly along the length of the room. Even in those few seconds as he charged forward, he saw them brighten. Whereas before they'd been dark with the rain outside, now they were coming to life. The light coming through them was slightly odd, though; it wasn't just the clear reds and blues and greens of the glass it passed through. Instead, it was all slightly lighter.

Isaac immediately knew what it was. Famfrit walked the earth. Though Isaac wasn't Famfrit's Avatar, he damn well was one of his mogknights, and the Ultimate of his people to boot.

The mogknight let the moonlight from the windows soak into his skin. When he was a few steps from Li Grim, Famfrit, Marche, and Caitlin, he closed his eyes. Silvery moonlight exploded from him, carrying him, and he swung his blade around at Li Grim.

Everything from there was difficult to follow. Isaac moved without thought, letting instinct and moonlight guide his actions. Each time Li Grim blocked one of his strikes, Isaac felt his moonlight bursting against her crystalline flesh. Each time she swung, he moved, stepping away.

He didn't know how much time passed, but he felt himself moving less and less on his own. He was part of Famfrit; without knowing how it happened, he felt himself and the Totema guiding each other's movements. He could feel the holy light rolling off of Marche, mirroring and blending with his own moonlight. Every time Isaac closed his eyes, his Third Eye opened, and he felt Caitlin's movements. Whenever he felt his skin sting with a scored hit or his muscles ache with exhaustion, an arrow lanced in to cover him while Guinness's cool magic flowed through his body.

Through it, though, he felt the gnawing, corrupted emptiness at the centre of it all. Li Grim wasn't fighting as part of the dream world that she had created; she was fighting as something outside of it. Something alien, something wrong. Fighting her was more than just a conscious, emotional choice. It was something coded into his body.

Isaac didn't know how long things carried on like that. He, and the six others fighting alongside him, were constantly on the edge of death, blocking or dodging Li Grim's attacks with no room for error. Even as silvery light flowed through Isaac's brown fur and fuelled him, he could feel himself growing tired. Through the bizarre, almost transcendent connection he had with them, Isaac knew that the others were similarly growing tired. Any effect that they might have been having on Li Grim wasn't clear. She was letting out immense amounts of energy, but that might not mean anything. She was beyond them. Even Famfrit was nothing but the collective power and energy of mortal beings. Li Grim was a goddess, a creature whose power fully defied their own.

It was as Isaac was stepping around behind Li Grim that things changed. He was bringing the Materia Blade around in a slash at her back, expecting her to turn with her supernatural speed and block it. Much to his surprise, though, she didn't. His blade connected with her crystalline skin, and passed through without any resistance. The silvery light around the materia dispersed immediately, and the brown moogle stared up in surprise. Around him, he could feel Famfrit, Marche, and Caitlin's surprise as they all had the exact same thing happen to them.

The light at Li Grim's core seemed smaller than usual, bundled into a tight, intense kernel. They all stared at it in dumb surprise for an instant, not sure how to react. The kernel wavered for an instant, and then rushed out, blinding all of them with incredible light.

Isaac raised his hands over his eyes to shield them, and suddenly his feet were leaving the floor. He careened backwards through the air, trying to reach out for anything to hold onto. There was no pain; it wasn't like he'd been hit by an explosion or anything like that. There was just an intense wave of pressure throwing him back.

His back slammed against a wall, and the air left his lungs. He tried to keep a grip on the Materia Blade, but it slipped away from him. Oddly, after hitting the wall, he didn't slide down it. He was plastered against the granite, having trouble breathing as the pressure kept crushing him against the stone.

Finally, the intense light blinding him dimmed. He blinked to clear his eyes of the spots, and his vision slowly came back. He was pinned on the wall about six feet up from the floor. The pressure was still holding him, keeping him from moving at all. As he looked around, he saw that all of the others were similarly held, the pained expressions on their faces making it clear that the pressure was just as strong on them. Guinness had his eyes clamped shut, and sweat was pouring from his forehead. The splint on his leg was cracking as the pressure tried to push the limb out at an odd angle.

Li Grim stood at the centre of it. She was motionless for a few long seconds. The light that had previously been at her core was now filling her body entirely. It wasn't blinding anymore, but it was still difficult to look at directly. She had both of her bladed arms raised above her head, and although there was no expression on her face, Isaac knew she was deep in concentration.

Her odd, echoing voice spoke. "I commend you for your strength. I tire of this game, though. With my current level of power, I can't keep this up for long. As soon as I strike down that boy, though…"

Marche made a strangled noise, and Li Grim's head turned towards him. Her features didn't change, but Isaac got the impression she was grinning. Then, one of her arms twitched.

There was a long, awful moment during with nothing happened. Then, she twitched that arm again. And again, more erratically. She looked around for a moment, seemingly at a loss. Then, her eyes focused squarely on Famfrit.

The white moogle was pressed back against one of the stained glass windows, the magic protecting the window keeping it from shattering under the pressure. Famfrit's head was lowered, and his forehead was creased with concentration. He didn't look up as Li Grim slowly floated up and then towards him. She came to a halt floating a foot in front of him, several meters above the floor.

"I understand. That moogle. He's with the boy. He's protecting him, isn't he? Using those teleporting shoes to stop me from teleporting Mewt." She leaned closer, so that her featureless face was just in front of Famfrit's. "And you're feeding the moogle your power so that he can protect him."

All was silent in the throne room. Every one of them, Isaac included, was struggling against Li Grim's power, trying to get away.

"Isaac." The mog knight glanced up as Thomas's voice spoke. The white moogle hadn't moved, and there was still that crease in his forehead. "The answer to that question on your mi—"

Li Grim moved faster than Isaac's eyes could follow, and Famfrit's words died on Thomas's lips, turning into wet wheezing. A long, red gash lay open on the moogle's throat, though oddly it wasn't bleeding. Famfrit hung there for a moment, his eyes very wide.

Li Grim gave a small nod. The moogle's body fell, released from her magic. As he fell, blood exploded from the wound in his neck. There was a wet thump as the body hit the ground, and blood pooled around the head.

Isaac didn't even watch as Li Grim turned away from the dead moogle. He knew that she was looking at him, giving him that featureless, smug grin. He didn't care. He was too fixed on Thomas's body, on the blood pouring from it, on those last words.

Li Grim returned to the centre of the room. She gave herself a shake, and then twitched one of her bladed arms.

There was a flash, and Mewt appeared in the centre of the room, just in front of Li Grim. Montblanc was holding onto the prince's waist, his eyes clenched tight with concentration. After a few seconds, the moogle's eyes opened, and he stared up at Li Grim in surprise. Mewt was also gazing at Li Grim, his arms wrapped tightly around the massive grimoire, still open as it pressed against his chest.

Montblanc stepped away from Mewt, stumbling as he put himself between Li Grim and the prince. The moogle's skin was noticeably pale through his brown fur. His clothing was soaked through with blood, particularly around the gash in his upper arm. The moogle was barely standing as he faced Li Grim, and he kept staggering just trying to stand there.

"Honourable." Li Grim's hollow voice sounded almost amused. "Very stupid, though."

She gave a small gesture with an arm, and Montblanc cried out as he went flying. He slammed against the wall just above the entrance to the throne room, and was held there just like the others.

This left Li Grim and Mewt in the centre of the room staring at each other.

All was silent for several long moments. Isaac finally turned to look at the two of them, his head still in a haze after watching Li Grim kill Famfrit. The moogle couldn't see Mewt's face from where he was, so Isaac couldn't tell if he was frightened.

Finally, Li Grim spoke. "It's time that you give me back the rest of my power, boy." She nodded towards the grimoire in Mewt's arms. Even from that distance, Isaac could tell that she was hungry for it.

Mewt took a moment to respond. When he did speak, though, his voice was oddly soft. "You impersonated my mother. You went into my dreams and used my memories of her to impersonate her."

"Yes." Li Grim's voice was emotionless. It was a cold statement of fact. "Give me the book."

Mewt kept staring at her. Then,

"No."

Li Grim lunged forward, and the open book fell into Mewt's arms. It exploded with multicoloured light, and Mewt disappeared amongst the flash. Li Grim spun, her arm slashing at open air. Many-coloured light burst out against her blade arm, and Mewt appeared there, holding one hand up to block Li Grim's attack. The Gran Grimoire hung open in the air in front of him, and his free hand was scribbling on one of the pages with a golden quill. The other hand was blasting out the light, repelling Li Grim.

Li Grim and Mewt disappeared, and then cold purple and warm kaleidoscopic light burst out on the opposite side of the room. There was a dull roar followed by impenetrable silence for an insant, and then both lights disappeared again.

The two sources of light started blinking around the room, occasionally pausing long enough to see Li Grim and Mewt at their centres. It was difficult to follow and disorienting. Each time Mewt attacked, the entire Palace shook and roared. Whenever Li Grim's magic blasted out, everything fell oddly silent.

Every time the pair stopped long enough for the others to see them, Mewt was writing furiously in the Gran Grimoire. Many-hued light fell away from the pages wherever the quill touched, spilling through the air towards Li Grim. Li Grim repelled the light with her bladed arms and her own magic, fighting the human back every step of the way.

At first it seemed like an even battle. Both of them were bending and warping the world around them, sending blasts of pure energy and pure nothingness at each other. After a few seconds of combat, though, Isaac's keen eyes started picking up that Li Grim was struggling. She was keeping up with Mewt, but it was clear that the prince still carried the greater weight of influence over the world around them. On top of that, the magical light at Li Grim's core was growing less constant. It dimmed occasionally, and the pressure holding Isaac to the wall kept flickering slightly weaker.

Li Grim and Mewt blinked into existence in the middle of the room. Just as Mewt was bringing a wave of many-coloured energy in at her, though, Li Grim flickered out of existence again. Mewt actually stumbled, looking surprised.

The purple light flared up, this time a foot in front of Marche. The paladin was still held prostrate against the wall. His eyes widened as Li Grim appeared, and every muscle in his body flexed as she lunged at him with one of her blade arms.

The next moment was disorienting for Isaac. The moogle was momentarily blinded as molten, many-coloured light rolled over him. The pressure against his chest and back disappeared for an instant before returning. The moogle was dizzy, and as he looked around he found that he had moved. Now he was pinned against one of the columns lining the hall. There was somebody else pushed against the column just below him, but he couldn't see whom.

The moogle looked around wildly, trying to find Marche again. The paladin was still pressed against the wall, perfectly unharmed. Li Grim now stood on the ground just in front of him, but was not facing the human. Mewt was collapsed on the ground before her, his chest rising and falling. The many-hued light had left him, and the Gran Grimoire lay open on the floor several meters away from him.

Isaac finally looked down at the other figure pressed against his column as Li Grim began advancing on the prince. The moogle stared for a few seconds at the enormous, crumpled form. It was pinned, just like him, but it wasn't struggling.

It took Isaac another few seconds before things clicked in his head. He didn't move as he realized that he was looking at Maxwell's body.

Everything else faded for the moogle. He stared at the bangaa, unable to think. Thomas had told him that Maxwell was dead. For Famfrit's sake, Isaac had been ready to kill the bangaa himself. Actually seeing his body lying there, though, was entirely different.

Li Grim was still moving towards the prince. Isaac's brain was moving sluggishly as he tried to keep up. Mewt had teleported him there. He knew that much. But why? To give him one last moment to say goodbye to his friend before they were all lost? That couldn't be it. The prince had had a chance to do one thing before taking the blow meant for Marche. Why send Isaac to Maxwell…?

It was about then that Isaac noticed the blade still clamped in Maxwell's fist. It was blue.

Isaac strained every muscle in his body. Silvery light exploded from him as he struggled. Li Grim's magic was weaker than it had been before; her fight with the prince must have drawn much of Li Grim's reserves. He could move, could drag himself downward, moving as though through water. The moogle actually growled, muscles in his chest and arms beginning to cramp with the effort of pulling himself down towards Maxwell's body.

His paw clamped shut around the blade's silver hilt.

Isaac rolled forward as the pressure on him disappeared. He turned as his feet hit the ground, and his other paw grabbed the golden hilt of the other blade sheathed at Maxwell's side.

He turned back around to face Li Grim, who was almost to Mewt's collapsed body.

The moogle charged, bringing the twin blades Avuir around. His index fingers flicked out, and they found the triggers built into the gunblade attachments.

Li Grim slowed as all of existence leaned in towards Isaac. Magical power built in both of the blades in his hands, drawing all of matter in. Isaac's eyes narrowed, and he brought the two blades up.

"Ultima."

Isaac's finger pulled the trigger on the blue blade. Energy roared out of him, ripping through the air towards Li Grim. She spun, bringing one of her blade arms around to deflect it. The Ultima energy exploded against her crystalline skin, sending her sliding backwards. It was still pushing on her as Isaac's finger hit the trigger on the red blade.

"Ultima."

The second Ultima-laden bullet flew. Li Grim raised her second blade arm, crossing it behind the second as the next blast of Ultima thundered in. The purple light at her core flared up, and she leaned forward as the twin blasts pushed her backwards until her back slammed into the wall. Cracks spread along the granite, centred on her.

Isaac was stumbling with exhaustion at this point. He kept on running towards her. He could see the others out of the corners of his eyes. They were all still pressed against the wall. He knew exactly what had to happen. This was a gambit. He had to make her exhaust all her energy blocking his attacks, freeing the members of Clan Nutsy. If he couldn't do that, they were done.

Li Grim was still off-balance. Isaac closed his eyes, and he forced himself to think far back to that awful fight with Llednar. He forced himself to think of Lini, bringing the twin blades Avuir around at the biskmatar.

When Isaac opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself one step away from Li Grim. Both of his arms were trailing behind him, the twin blades held like wings out from him. His own voice sounded exhausted and raw in his ears as he bellowed.

"Ultima."

The two blades came together in a scissoring motion. Purple light rushed out from Li Grim, and Ultima exploded against it. Isaac held the position for a long time, feeling the energy rolling off of him and through the blades into Li Grim's magic. It felt like it went on for hours.

Isaac's body leaned back. His feet left the ground, and the force of the blast carried him away. His arms felt like lead, but they still held tightly to the hilts of the two blades.

He hit the ground, and found that he couldn't move. His chest heaved, and every muscle in his body burned. He could just stare up at the high, vaulted ceiling of the throne room.

A shaking voice spoke. It belonged to Li Grim.

"You can't win. This world is mine. I control it. It is _mine_."

Another voice. Marche's.

"In some way or another, you've hurt everybody that I love. Your power made this world, yes. But your power comes from all of us. There's no reason for any of us to give you power anymore."

That echoing, feminine voice screamed in rage. Somewhere, out of Isaac's vision, there was a weak flash of purple light, and then an intense flash of white. Then there was silence.

All was quiet for what felt like a long time. When sound returned, it was the soft echoing of feet on the granite. Occasionally, there was a pained grunt from a voice that sounded like Guinness. Throughout it all, Isaac couldn't move. Or maybe he just didn't move. He wasn't sure.

After a few minutes, the large head of a nu mou leaned over his vision. Isaac stared dully up at Guinness for a few seconds. The nu mou shook his head.

"You could've killed yourself."

"Did we win, kupo?"

The mage nodded slowly. "Yes. We did."

He leaned down, and Isaac felt cool white magic soaking through the burning pain in his muscles. When Guinness had finished, he took Isaac by the shoulders and helped him up. Isaac let the nu mou move him, and when he was on his feet, he leaned against the mage's side, too exhausted to stand on his own.

The other members of Clan Nutsy were gathered around Mewt and Marche. Even Montblanc was standing, the gash in his arm sealed over and his face seeming a bit less pale. Isaac's eyes wandered over to where he'd last seen Li Grim. There was an indentation in the wall from where Isaac had thrown her with his attacks, along with a deep, sharp puncture. There was no other trace of her.

Guinness started guiding Isaac over towards the rest of the group. Mewt was speaking.

"Now that she's destroyed, all the rest of the power in this world is in this book." Isaac saw that the prince had picked up the Gran Grimoire, and held it open in his hands. All the others were staring apprehensively at it, knowing its intense power. "If we close it, that should be enough to… well, to do whatever happens."

"How much power is left in there, kupo?" Isaac was surprised to hear his own voice speaking. The others all turned to stare at him in surprise.

Mewt, for his part, looked stunned for a moment before answering. "Not a lot."

Isaac licked his lips. He knew that there wasn't enough power to bring somebody back to life. That wasn't possible. But… "Could you summon Famfrit?"

Mewt looked uncomfortable for a moment. Then, he muttered, "I don't know. I don't want to risk it, though. That would take a lot of energy, and I don't know what would happen if we used up the rest of the power in here."

"Try, kupo." Isaac's voice was hard. He felt Guinness tensing beside him.

"I can't do that, Isaac. This book is what's keeping this world together. If we close it, that's one thing. Using up the rest of the power—"

"I don't care, kupo," Isaac snapped. He was still speaking, and his brain wasn't keeping up. "Do it anyways."

"I can't—"

Isaac moved before he knew what he was doing. He felt Guinness grabbing for him, but he slipped by. He ran right through the centre of Clan Nutsy before any of them could react, the Avuir Blades still held in his paws. Marche started reaching for him, but Isaac had the surprise. The moogle reached out, and his tired muscles screamed in pain as he grabbed the front of Mewt's robes around the gold and silver hilts. Isaac lifted the boy up clean off the ground, arms shaking with the effort. Marche's hand clamped around Isaac's wrist, the grip like iron. Isaac ignored him.

"I need him!" Isaac didn't even look to the members of Clan Nutsy as he spoke. He stared up at the terrified prince, and then his eyes flicked away. They settled on Thomas's body, now entirely empty and devoid of life. "I needed him to tell me…"

"To tell you what, Isaac?"

The moogle's chest rose and fell heavily. His breaths were the only sound in the enormous room. Then, finally, the moogle's voice came out, very quietly. "I need to know if Mateus was right. I need to know if I hurt her, kupo. And I… Everything I've done for the past six years has been for my friends." The moogle paused to take a very long, deep breath. "I want to know that I didn't waste all of that time and pain."

Isaac's grip was getting weaker and weaker on the prince's shirt, and seeing this, Marche gradually let go of the moogle's wrist. The two humans kept their eyes trained on the moogle, waiting for any sudden movements. None came, though.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Isaac's fingers opened fully. Mewt stepped back from the moogle. Isaac was still watching Thomas, as if he was expecting him to move at any moment. There was a soft clang as the blades slipped from his paws, but other than that he was silent.

"You are a very strong young man, Isaac." The moogle didn't react as Guinness spoke. The nu mou's voice was awkward, and slightly quiet. "I don't think you understand just how much people care about you. The truth is—"

"With all respect, Guinness," Isaac said, not looking up, "I don't want to hear it. I can't justify this. I can't justify… any of it, kupo. I've just been fighting so hard for so long, and I'm tired." There were a few more moments of silence. Then, the moogle finally looked away from Thomas's body and towards Mewt. "I'm sorry. I think that I just… I want to go home, kupo."

Mewt nodded gently, and then glanced to Marche. Isaac and the prince stood separate from the others as the paladin bid his goodbyes to his clanmates. Isaac didn't move to pick up any of his blades or to even acknowledge the members of Clan Nutsy. He just waited where he was.

When the time finally came, Isaac wasn't paying attention. He heard the creaking as the old tome's spine turned, and then the soft thump as the pages came together. He closed his eyes as the warm air in the Palace stirred, chilling immediately. He gave a small shiver when the wind kicked up and ruffled his fur slightly. The wind kept picking up in speed, growing stronger and stronger. In moments, it was a deafening, howling gale, cold enough to make Isaac shiver through his fur. The moogle opened his eyes, and meant to ask Mewt if this was how things were supposed to happen, but his voice caught in his throat.

Everything was black. The world was gone. There was just that frigid, overpowering wind. Isaac staggered, trying to take a step, but the wind immediately caught him and threw him backwards. Instead of hitting the floor, though, the moogle just kept on falling, falling through the roaring and cold and the darkness, falling forever, feeling like the wind was stripping him away, stripping away clothing, skin, muscle, bone, thought, falling and falling until he touched—

"You want to know if you hurt her?"

There was only darkness. The voice that spoke was bodiless, and so was Isaac. He tried to look, to move around, but he had no eyes or limbs to control. That voice spoke again.

"You want to know if you hurt her? Fine then, go and find her."

Then… he didn't know what. He didn't see anything. Definitely not. He didn't even know if he could see. But there was a face. There was a voice. There was warmth, and a familiar smell, and soft lips on his, and it was burning all around him, all through him.

"But remember. You found her in Ivalice by choosing to leave your friends. You won't find her in St Ivalice by just staying with them forever."

Then it was gone.

Isaac hit the snow hard enough to slide for about a foot. He clenched his eyes shut as the freezing cold stuff immediately started melting against his body heat, soaking into his jacket.

For a moment, the boy simply lay there, eyes shut, recovering from the vertigo of having fallen. Nothing hurt, thankfully, but it was still disorienting.

Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, and stood up. He brushed the melting snow and slush off of his clothes, and looked around the street. It was empty, just like it always was at this time of night.

He reached up to brush some snow from his hair, and then blinked. The boy cast around himself quickly, and his eyes eventually settled on a black felt fedora, lying in the snow. It had fallen off of his head the moment he'd started falling.

Isaac sighed and grabbed the hat up, brushing it off. He cast one last glance around the street, and then slowly, ever so slowly, let his gaze wander upwards. The night sky was empty of clouds. A canopy of stars hung above him, but Isaac couldn't help but let his eyes wander to the massive, glowing ball of the moon. A full moon.

The boy stood in the middle of the street and just watched that orb of light for a few minutes, entranced by its glow. Eventually though, the chill night air and the melted snow seeping into his clothing got the better of him. Isaac slapped the hat one last time, and then placed it on his head. He turned back towards home, just beyond the border of town.

He started walking. He was already running late, and he had school in the morning.


End file.
